Chapter Nine #2
“Yes.” Eoin bobbed his chin but didn’t break eye contact. “But more than that, I appreciate the fact you’re here. By my side. It’s nice, novel, I suppose—having someone’s support simply because they wish to help me.”
It felt like the grenade had exploded inside Hannah…
except she was being hit with shards of guilt instead of shrapnel.
For the first time, Hannah began to realize how betrayed Eoin would feel when he learned the truth behind her less-than-altruistic offer to assist. Because Eoin had ceased being the enemy and was slowly becoming something more.
A partner, perhaps? Yet that didn’t fully describe the nascent feelings rattling around in Hannah’s chest.
But even if she hadn’t started this quest for all the right reasons, Hannah was determined to help Eoin locate his family. And now she had the additional duty to protect him from whatever scoundrel wished him dead.
“You’re joining us?” It was obvious that Eoin’s Aunt Joan was attempting to keep her voice neutral. However, it rose just a bit at the end, exposing her displeasure at her nephew’s decision to eat with the family.
“Yes. The lovely Miss Wick has convinced me that a more leisurely breakfast is better for one’s digestion.” Eoin shot Hannah a slight smile, which she found more convincing than if he’d suddenly changed his character and broken into a broad grin. His acting was commendable.
“I am not sure anything would improve his naturally dyspeptic humor,” Lord Hugh whispered to Lord Francis.
Hannah assumed that the man had meant to say the words under his breath, but he’d sorely misjudged his volume.
Everyone, including Eoin, could hear him clearly.
Eoin, though, never changed his expression.
He merely kept shoveling eggs onto his plate from the sideboard.
Hannah decided her best strategy was not to pretend that she hadn’t heard. She wanted Eoin’s relatives shaken.
“Oh, but he has every reason to be upset this morning!” Hannah placed her food down on the dining table and then clasped her hands together in a dramatic sweep.
“Oh, I didn’t mean—” Lord Hugh’s gaze darted over to Eoin. It was obvious to Hannah that he was trying to judge if he’d upset the new duke. He seemed to lack any true contrition, though.
Hannah, however, ignored his stumbling attempts to smooth over his mistake. “I daresay, even a veritable saint would feel out of sorts this morning after what my dear Eoin endured.”
Hannah paused and placed both palms on the table, as she bent forward. Dropping both the volume and pitch of her voice, she finished with, “Someone tried to kill him.”
Hannah watched everyone’s reaction. Lord Hugh smirked while Lord Francis shook his head, his expression a cross between annoyance and bemusement. Lady Joan rolled her eyes. Lady Eliza, who had been scouring the gossip rags, let the broadsheet flutter to the tablecloth.
“Did you say kill?” Lady Eliza’s voice rose an entire octave at the end.
“Don’t fash yourself, Eliza.” Lady Joan leaned over to pat her younger sister’s arm. “Miss Wick is just bamming us. Either that, or she’s one for melodrama.”
“Oh, but I am quite serious.” Hannah shifted her gaze around the table, and she noticed Eoin doing the same.
From her perspective, she didn’t think any of them were acting particularly guilty, but perhaps Eoin was sensing a whiff of suspicion that she was overlooking.
Her job was primarily to goad the four siblings. Eoin’s was to watch.
Hannah turned to Eoin. “You found a—what was it, again, in your chambers?”
“A grenade.” The two words rumbled from Eoin with little inflection. Gone was that man who’d looked so dejected and vulnerable last night. The stoic duke had returned.
“A pastry? Was it poisoned?” Lady Joan asked in confusion as she frantically pushed her plate away from her.
“No. It wasn’t a dessert,” Eoin said.
“It certainly sounds like one—a fancy French one made from white sugar.” The more Lord Francis described the fictional sweet, the more excited his voice became.
Hannah had no idea if the siblings were actually feigning ignorance or if they honestly had no idea what the munition was.
It wasn’t precisely common, and the troops who employed them were not generally from the elite classes.
“Your confusion is likely because the word is French in origin, but it has nothing to do with—” Eoin began as if he was simply giving a scholarly lecture rather than describing a device that could have easily killed him.
“Oh, now I remember!” Lord Hugh sounded a bit like an excited schoolboy who’d finally figured out the lesson. “It’s something thrown by soldiers.”
“It’s a hollow iron ball packed with gunpowder and connected to a fuse.
When the flame reaches the residue, the entire contraption explodes, sending flames and metal shards everywhere.
” Eoin’s emotionless delivery even caused Hannah to shiver, and she was well versed in a grenade’s destructive force.
Lady Eliza squeaked in dismay, and she immediately clutched at her throat.
Her sister was a little less dramatic, but she did emit a loud gasp.
Lord Hugh paled while his brother reached for his stomach.
“You wouldn’t want to eat that,” Francis observed, rather unnecessarily.
“Did we almost all die last night?” Lady Eliza demanded, her pale-blue eyes huge pools of frightened dismay.
“No,” Eoin continued in the same bland tone. “It would have only killed me—unless, of course, the bed had caught on fire and burned down the house. Likely even in that case you would have had time to escape.”
Lady Eliza emitted a strangled sound. Lord Francis reached over to pat her back. “Now, now. A sensitive thing like you would have smelled the smoke immediately and raised the alarm.”
Lady Eliza sniffed. “I suppose you are right.”
Hannah noticed that none of the four siblings seemed to be concerned about their nephew’s near death—only about the danger that they’d personally faced. They did seem surprised, but perhaps they were better actors and actresses than she’d given them credence for.
Now that she’d shocked them about last night’s events, it was time to launch an entirely different line of inquiry.
“Whatever happened to the Horse and Hen?” Hannah asked, keeping her voice light and airy. If the Aucourtes could act brainless and blithe about danger, then so could she.
“The Horse and Hen?” Lady Eliza asked. “Why are you asking about that old place again? It was closed down years ago when it was discovered to be a den of traitors—our elder brother Henry included.”
“Father played a role in seeing the owners hanged,” Lord Hugh added. “He blamed the place for leading Henry astray.”
“Pity. It was one of the best places to watch—” Lord Francis started to stay.
“Oh!” Lady Eliza burst out. “Why must we talk about that terrible place as if nothing happened last night? I almost died!”
Lord Francis heaved out a beleaguered sigh before he reached over to pat his sister’s shoulder again.
Hannah noticed that his hand moved more rapidly than last time.
It was clear that Lady Eliza’s outbursts annoyed him, but it was equally apparent that he’d rather attempt to soothe her than deal with her caterwauling.
“We’re all perfectly safe, Eliza,” Lord Francis reminded her. “Just go back to reading your tittle-tattle. Maybe you can even attend a ball soon to cheer you up.”
“They aren’t nearly as fun as they were during my youth.” Lady Eliza sulked. “I learn better gossip by reading the newspapers.”
“What did you used to watch at the Horse and Hen?” Hannah asked, utterly refusing to allow Lady Eliza’s fears to disrupt the entire conversation.
“There’s no use talking about the past.” Lady Joan speared her soft-boiled egg with a rather surprising ferocity, especially since she was using a spoon. A few droplets of runny yolk even ended up on the tablecloth. “Father would not approve.”
“But he’s gone.” Eoin spoke again, and by the way his relatives jumped, it was clear that they’d half forgotten about his presence, despite his considerable size. “I am duke now, and I am interested in the answer to Hannah’s question, especially as it pertains to my mother.”
“Oh, they simply had the best tavern maids. It’s no wonder that your father fell for one.” Lord Hugh’s attempt at a grin was both garish and more than a tad unsettling.
“Are you afraid of Grandfather’s ghost?” Eoin asked.
“What? No. What in heaven’s name are you blathering about?” Lord Hugh paused to take a healthy swig of his special tea and then a second. “I don’t believe in spirits.”
“Then why are you lying?” Eoin asked evenly.
“I am not fibbing.” Lord Hugh swung a desperate look in his younger brother’s direction.
Lord Francis took his own gulp of gin-laden tea and then cleared his throat. “It’s no falsehood. The place had prettier girls than many a brothel.”
“First, you should do well to remember that my mother worked at that establishment,” Eoin said stiffly. “Second, you always tug your ear when you lie, Uncle Hugh.”
“I don’t!” Lord Hugh exclaimed as he simultaneously reached for his lobe. As soon as his finger had brushed against it, he realized his error. His pale-blue eyes grew huge, and he slapped his hand down on the table with enough force to send the silverware clattering.
“This entire meal is giving me indigestion.” Lady Eliza shoved her plate away before she jumped up from the table. Clutching her stomach, she hurried from the room.
“Now you’ve done it!” Lord Hugh cried out as if his sister was truly suffering a dire malady. It was clear to Hannah, though, that Lady Eliza’s dramatic exit had only provided her brother with the perfect excuse to avoid Eoin’s questions.
“Once she gets into a state, she is inconsolable,” Lady Joan moaned as she gently laid down her silverware. “It will take all three of us to calm her down.”
“Most assuredly,” Lord Francis chimed in.
The three then arose in unison and then just as quickly vanished after Lady Eliza. Eoin sighed when the pocket door slid shut behind them. “That was decidedly unproductive.”
“Not entirely,” Hannah disagreed. “There is something important about the Horse and Hen. Lord Hugh is acting cagey. It may be dangerous, but I think we may need to make another visit there. Perhaps after we talk to your butler.”
Because it was clear that things were more complicated than Hannah had assumed.