Chapter 8 Hanna
HANNA
The gifts continued.
A brace of pigeons and a string of dried mushrooms appeared.
The next day, a box of small cakes and candies. This surprised Hanna the most, it seemed such a frivolous treat considering her circumstances, but she stood at the gate and looked out into the forest, mouthing a thank you to the man who might be watching.
Later that night, she ate them all alone in front of the fire, sitting curled up around the box as her father snored upstairs.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a moment of lightness, carefully choosing and inspecting each delicacy in the light of the fire before popping it into her mouth.
Hanna was sweeping the cobbles in front of the bakery door, lost in thought and humming a tune lightly, when she heard a loud, brash laugh ring out from across the street.
Instantly, cold dread rushed down her spine, and she stiffened, her chest going tight, not needing to look to know who the laugh belonged to.
It was him. The younger Lord Emsley. Henry.
She took a deep, fortifying breath and swung the broom once more with determination. Refusing to raise her eyes or look at anything but the leaves she swept neatly to the side.
It was of no matter to her if he was back visiting the estate. Emsley was a libertine who came and went as he liked, much to the displeasure of his father, the Honourable Lord John Emsley.
Hanna was sure that the game he had played with her had been repeated across the county and beyond. She was no longer the naive young girl she had been when Emsley seduced her at eighteen.
No. She realised now that toying with the staff was a mere pastime for the peerage. Nothing to be taken seriously. A distraction from the boredom of eating, riding, drinking and gaming.
Hanna sniffed in disdain and scowled at the cobbles.
Then, her head dropped as she remembered her vow to contact the man and tell Emsley of the child. Now that he had returned, Hanna would have no recourse to put the message off. It was the perfect opportunity. She just didn’t know if she was ready.
Hanna sucked in a heavy breath and finally turned to look, and came face to face with the devil himself.
Emsley looked in ruddy good health, golden hair carefully curled and tied with a ribbon beneath his hat, lace spilling decadently from his cravat and cuffs.
“Look at this,” he said with a curl of his lip, circling her as he tapped his cane on the cobbles. “My little dove has found a new place to rest.”
“I am not your anything,” retorted Hanna with a defiant glare.
Emsley glanced discreetly around, then beckoned her into the alley. Hanna reluctantly followed, knowing this might be her only chance to speak with him.
She could do it, she must. For James.
Henry turned towards her and pursed his lips, inspecting her with a smirk. “I expected to see you at the manor. Imagine my surprise when I heard of your disgraceful departure.”
Hanna frowned at his distasteful words, gathering her courage. “I need to speak to you-”
“Now, now. There will be plenty of time for a chat later. I want you to come to the hunting lodge six days from now. I am hosting a little hunting party and you, my dear, would make the perfect entertainment.”
Shock and disgust almost closed her throat. “I will not,” Hanna managed to whisper, clutching her skirts with hands that shook with distress.
Henry flashed her a confused mein. “Why ever not? I will pay you well, it’s more than a chit like yourself can ask for, really-”
“I am not your doxy!” hissed Hanna, the urge to run growing stronger with every moment. She had been so, so wrong. She should never have tried to talk to him.
“You, you-”
He raised his brows in mock surprise, gesturing with his hand. “Yes, go on-”
Hanna stared impotently at him, the words lodged in her throat.
“Well, we shall see,” murmured Lord Emsley, flicking the lint from his sleeve and sauntering back towards the street. He stopped and turned to her. “We will speak on this again. I daresay, next time you will not refuse me.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Hanna to sink back against the wall and sob into her hands.
After a while, she sniffed and straightened her back, scrubbing her palms over her cheeks and taking a deep breath through her nose.
There was nothing for it but to carry on. There was no one to come and save her, she would just have to work harder.