Chapter 8
HANNAH WAS WORRIED about Sir James. He had left the drawing room only moments before dinner was announced, and he hadn’t come back.
She’d been caught up in her conversation with a sweet young woman named Miss Tate and had looked up right as Sir James slipped through a side door.
The urge to follow him had nearly overcome her, but she had held fast to propriety.
She’d assumed he would return within a few minutes.
Now dinner was over, the ladies were back in the drawing room while the men lingered over port, and Hannah was slowly inching toward the door Sir James had gone through.
It was ridiculous to think she might find him on the other side of the door almost two hours after his disappearance, and yet she couldn’t ignore the pull toward him.
She would simply check that he wasn’t trapped in some closet, and then she could stop worrying.
“You are Miss Faircott, yes?”
Hannah jumped and spun to face the young woman who had been sitting next to Sir James when she and Mother first arrived. “Er, yes?”
The woman’s lips twisted up in a grin. “Are you uncertain?”
Hannah hoped her blush wasn’t as vividly red as it felt. “No. I am Miss Faircott.”
“I’m Louisa Denham. Sir James was my guardian before I came of age.”
This was Sir James’s former ward. The one he had purchased a ribbon for.
Hannah took her in with new eyes, noting her bright smile and luminous blue eyes.
Miss Denham was beautiful and carried herself with confidence, and Hannah felt impossibly small beside her.
“Oh,” she said, wishing she had said anything else.
Miss Denham’s grin widened, and she took hold of Hannah’s hand as if they were the best of friends. “He is practically a brother to me now. I have to say, Miss Faircott, I’ve been eager to make your acquaintance all night.”
“Why?” Again, Hannah berated herself for her choice of words. Or word, rather. She had never been this ineloquent in her life, and she couldn’t fathom why she had become so tongue-tied now.
Miss Denham shifted closer. “Because I have never seen James besotted before now.”
The only thing that came out of Hannah’s mouth this time was a squeak.
As if that told her everything she needed to know, Miss Denham bounced on her feet.
She looked around the room, unaware of the way Hannah’s head was spinning, then dropped her voice so low that Hannah had to lean in to hear her.
“He’s around here somewhere. James would never leave his mother behind. ”
Shaking her head to rid herself of the word that repeated in her mind—besotted besotted besotted—Hannah swallowed and attempted an actual sentence. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you looked like you wanted to find him, and I thought I would help you.” Miss Denham nodded at the door Hannah had been inching toward.
Hannah’s eyes found her mother across the room. Thankfully, she was deep in conversation with a group of ladies, but how long would she remain occupied? “I couldn’t possibly go looking for him. What would people say?”
“Nothing, because they will suspect nothing. Is that your mother?” Miss Denham didn’t give Hannah a chance to respond before she said, “I am quite good at distractions, though I can only promise you a few minutes.”
A few minutes was all Hannah ever seemed to get with Sir James, and she would take every one of them she could get. “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing Miss Denham’s hand, but her own fingers were trembling. Was she really about to sneak off for a private rendezvous with a man she barely knew?
Miss Denham’s smile softened. “I have known James Hartwell almost my entire life. The man is more honorable than anyone I know and always does what is asked of him, no matter how much it costs him. Better still, he is kind and goodhearted and will never do anything that might cause you harm.” She gestured to the door.
“I suspect he is in the music room just through that door, and as long as you return quickly, no one will ever know you spoke to him.”
“This feels like courting disaster,” Hannah admitted even as she took a step toward the door.
“That’s what makes it exciting!” Miss Denham nudged Hannah forward another step. “And if you think of it as courting James Hartwell instead, all the better!” Her next nudge was more of a shove, and before Hannah could change her mind, she slipped through the door and pulled it shut behind her.
James leapt to his feet in surprise. He’d been sitting at the pianoforte but now stood several feet away from the instrument, his eyes wide and fixed on her. The room wasn’t fully lit, but there were enough candles for Hannah to see his face clearly.
“Miss Faircott,” he breathed.
Hannah couldn’t decide if he was relieved to see her or panicking, and that did nothing to quell her nerves. “Your…Miss Denham said you were likely in here.”
He tapped his fingers against his leg. “She knows me well,” he muttered.
“Were you not hungry?”
“Not particularly.” He did look somewhat green, so Hannah believed him. “Were you…” His gaze jumped to the door behind her, then to the other closed door across the room, and the panicked look in his eyes grew stronger. “We should not be here alone.”
Hannah’s heart sank. Perhaps Miss Denham had been wrong when she said Sir James was besotted.
At the moment, he looked ill rather than enamored.
“I was worried about you,” she said weakly.
“Forgive me.” She didn’t know what, exactly, she was asking forgiveness for, so she turned to go back to the drawing room.
“Miss Faircott!” Sir James was suddenly at her side, a hand on her elbow and his brow furrowed. “Wait. Please. I’m the one who needs forgiveness. Again.” A small chuckle escaped him as he looked down at the floor. “People rarely worry about me, and you caught me by surprise.”
With hope blossoming in her chest, Hannah smiled. “You should be used to that by now.”
Lifting his head, he matched her smile with a small one of his own. “I don’t know if I could ever get used to you, Miss Faircott, and I mean that in the best way.”
Hannah wasn’t certain how that could be construed in a positive light, but she believed him when he said he meant well. She thought she might believe anything this man said. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but are you well, Sir James?”
He was still holding her arm, something they realized at the same time. Sir James pulled his bare fingers away so slowly that Hannah shivered beneath his touch.
Sir James noticed. “Are you cold?”
“No,” she replied immediately.
“My mother is pushing for me to marry.” Wincing, Sir James stepped back and tugged on the sleeves of his jacket. Hannah hoped he would explain the change in topic so she could know how to feel about it. Thankfully, he did. “That is why I ran from the drawing room.”
“Because…” Hannah frowned as she sorted through the possible reasons he would run. “Because you don’t want to marry?”
“I don’t want to marry the person she has chosen for me,” he corrected and started to pace in small circles.
Who did she choose for you? Hannah couldn’t bring herself to ask that question out loud; she feared the answer.
She was brave enough to admit her own truth, as she knew exactly how it felt to be pushed toward someone against one’s will. “Me too,” she said with a weak laugh. “That is, my mother is trying to marry me off to someone.”
Sir James froze mid-step. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her,” he guessed.
“And why you have been avoiding your mother.”
He strode back to her side. “Do you think their goals are the same?”
Hannah considered that as the flicker of hope inside her grew brighter. “Are you suggesting our mothers are trying to set us up with each other?”
“We have to acknowledge the possibility, don’t you think?” His brow furrowed, and a pained edge entered his expression that mirrored her own as she considered his words.
She should have been excited by the idea.
Sir James was handsome and honorable, and something about him pulled her in whenever they were together.
Their personalities seemed well-suited to each other.
And yet her stomach was churning with nerves as she thought about it.
Sir James did not look especially happy about the possibility either.
If he knew she was his intended, would he agree to a match because he wanted it?
Or would he simply be doing as he was told, as Miss Denham said he always did?
They had not had enough time to explore their own potential; what if things fell apart if the choice was taken away from them?
She was not so foolish as to think she could find a match built only on love and affection when she was in need of someone with means, but a partnership created out of obligation sounded far worse than living in humble circumstances.
“And what if we are not meant for each other?” Hannah asked quietly.
His worried expression matched her own anxiety. “Are we not?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Do you…”
He shook his head. “My mother has chosen to be discreet up to this point. And I have also been avoiding her, as you know. Avoiding the future she has planned for me. I hoped…” Sighing heavily, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I always wanted this to be a choice I made for myself.”
He was just as in the dark about his match as she was, which meant she had no idea what she should do.
Allowing her mother to introduce her to her match would answer the question of the man’s identity, but what if she was disappointed?
What if she was not? If Sir James was her intended, how could she ever know if his feelings—or hers, for that matter—were real and lasting?
“I have an idea,” she said, more hesitant than she’d ever been with this man.
Sir James’s fingers pressed against her arm again. “I am eager to hear it.”
“Keep avoiding your mother.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth, regretting it even more when Sir James dropped his hand.
“Avoid my mother,” he repeated. “To what end?”
This was either a terrible idea or the best she’d ever had.
“Eventually, we will no longer be able to evade the truth, but right now, we are in control of whatever this is between us. I am interested in knowing you because of who you are, not because my mother has told me to take an interest.” She was being too bold, but it was no worse than what Sir James had said at the haberdashery yesterday.
“What if we hold on to this control as long as we can?”
Tilting his head to the side, he studied her long enough that nervous tears pricked at her eyes.
He must have seen a hint of her fear because he gently brushed the back of his finger along the delicate skin over her cheekbone.
“There would be no pressure,” he surmised, and his shoulders sagged with relief.
“Nothing to sway our feelings beyond reality.”
Hannah nodded. “I believe you are a good man, Sir James Hartwell, and you deserve to have this choice.”
“As do you, Miss Hannah Faircott.” A small smile lifted the corners of his lips, and he brushed her cheek again, this time with the pad of his thumb. His touch left a burning trail behind, which prompted his smile to grow.
Hannah was most assuredly blushing, and she hardly cared. Sir James’s comment alone made the hope in her chest bloom into something radiant, dimmed only by a small sliver of doubt. “But what if we are not meant for each other?”
Sir James shook his head, and though his smile faltered, his words came out confident. “Let us not think about that until we have to.”
That sounded far better than worrying she might leave Upper Lambourn in heartbreak. Nodding, Hannah reached up and wrapped her fingers around Sir James’s wrist to hold his hand in place. “For now, we are two people open to possibilities.”
“For now,” he agreed, his gaze drifting from her eyes to her nose, to her mouth.
Knowing she could get caught up in the man’s gaze for hours if she let herself, Hannah spoke the three words she least wanted to say: “I should go.” She had likely been away for too long already.
Sir James nodded, lowering his hand as he looked at the door she had come through.
As Hannah was still holding his wrist, his fingers momentarily slipped around hers before he pulled away.
“You are likely to attract notice on your return to the drawing room,” he said with a frown.
“We need to find a way to keep your reputation secure.”
Hannah hadn’t thought about how she would rejoin the others without being seen, and fear gripped her heart.
If she thought being set up by her mother was difficult, being forced into a marriage because of scandal would be intolerable.
Even with someone like Sir James. “Miss Denham said she would distract my mother,” she whispered, “but she said nothing about the other guests.”
Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, Sir James strode to the door and eased it open just enough to peer through the crack.
Voices spilled into the music room, two of them louder than the rest. Hannah couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, but Sir James chuckled.
“Now is likely your best chance,” he said and gestured for her to enter the drawing room.
Though she should have checked for herself, Hannah trusted his judgment and slipped through the door as he opened it for her. She had to squint in the brighter light, so it took a few seconds before she could take in the scene.
Miss Denham had indeed caused a distraction, but she was not with Hannah’s mother. Instead, she was in the middle of a heated conversation with Mr. Everett that had captured the attention of the entire room, men and women alike.
“You are insufferable!” Miss Denham snapped as Hannah crept to the nearest chair and sat.
Mr. Everett barked out a laugh. “I am who I am, and you are the only one who seems to think I should pretend otherwise.”
“This is my future!”
“You are asking me to sacrifice my future for yours!”
“Asking that of you is my only choice. Can’t you see that?”
Before Mr. Everett could respond, Sir James appeared through a doorway near where the two were arguing, placing himself between them.
He spoke in low tones, first to Miss Denham, then to Mr. Everett, and the intensity and strength in his expression sent a pleasurable shiver down Hannah’s spine.
Sir James had been attractive from the start, but Hannah was beginning to realize there was much to learn about the man.
And she was eager to learn it all. What she needed was a way to talk to him again, but that was a far bigger problem than she currently knew how to solve.