Chapter Nine
Hannah’s heart was reacting in the most curious way.
Aye, she was accustomed to the tug of physical attraction.
She’d even indulged in the pull from time to time.
One of those relationships had even lasted a year when she’d been seventeen.
He’d been a sweet boy, but they hadn’t been a perfect fit, and in the end, they’d parted ways.
But she’d never experienced this fiery, almost painful force.
Eoin’s teal eyes were filled with an undeniable admiration as he gazed up at her.
His shoulders were slumped, and she could see him fighting back the shivers that were threatening to erupt all over his body.
He was vulnerable right now—this huge, fearsome-looking man.
Someone had very obviously tried to kill him in a horrific manner.
By all rights, he should be erecting every defense that he possessed.
He was indubitably capable of stoicism. But he was choosing to remain open to her—to let her witness his emotions, even his need for her.
Cautiously, Hannah laid her hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t shake her off, she gently squeezed. It was either that or gather him close—and she wasn’t sure if either of them was ready for that.
“I simply recognized what the device was. I am sure you would have reacted the same had you seen one before.” Hannah’s statement felt weak even to her own ears. It was so perfunctory with no emotion, no feeling. Yet he had called her the brave one.
Hannah, too, felt on edge. Facing death did that. She wasn’t sanguine about the fact that she’d just carried a deadly device in her bare hands.
“I am trying to be logical about this attack, but my mind is just too cluttered,” Eoin confessed. “I don’t know how you’re standing.”
“I’ve locked my knees,” Hannah admitted. Somehow that honest admission seemed harder than seizing the small bomb. Eoin was supposed to be the enemy—her enemy—but here she was admitting weakness.
Eoin huffed out a rough chuckle. “It is no wonder.” Then he patted the mattress. “You should sit too.”
That was a bad idea, sharing a bed—even innocuously—with a man who looked like Eoin. But try as she might, Hannah couldn’t muster the volition to walk over to the chairs.
She flopped down beside Eoin with more devil-may-care confidence than she actually possessed.
It was a strategic mistake. She slid, quite emphatically, against Eoin.
When her thigh squashed into his muscular one, she was acutely reminded that she was not wearing her usual layers.
There were no petticoats to provide a buffer.
Only two thin sheets of linen separated their skin.
Hannah was a strong woman. She was accustomed to hefting trays of coffee, mopping floors, hoisting bags of beans, and then grinding them into powder.
She had biceps that she was proud of—after all, she’d earned them.
Yet pressed against Eoin’s massive frame, she felt…
delicate, not fragile but delicate. And that sensation thrilled her in an elemental way.
What had happened to her good sense?
“I suppose I should try to decipher who is trying to kill me.” Eoin’s voice sounded somber—and not in his usual stoic way. There was a sadness to his tone that caused an echoing pang of sorrow in Hannah’s own heart.
“The most likely candidates would be my uncles,” Eoin continued. “My Uncle Hugh has the most to win upon my demise as he is my heir presumptive. But Francis would likely throw in his lot with his brother. The two rarely do anything alone.”
How devastating must it be to consider that your own family members wished to kill you? Hannah’s maternal side had utterly rejected her, but they hadn’t plotted to murder her. And she’d never known them. But Eoin had been raised in the same household as his uncles.
Hannah leaned a little closer to him. She wished she could dismiss his theory for his sake, but she couldn’t deny its truth. And false hope wasn’t just empty in this scenario but deadly as well.
“They could very well be the culprits, but it speaks to their villainy and not to your worth.” Hannah could not believe that she was supporting the grandson of her familial enemy, but she realized how accurate her words were.
Eoin rubbed his hands over his face, and Hannah sensed a deep weariness welling up inside him. “I have oft wondered about my own measure. Since the age of six, my grandfather groomed me into the lord he wished me to be. But now that I have obtained the position, I am unsure of my role.”
The stark honesty of Eoin’s confession startled Hannah. She had never thought of a duke having doubts—although she supposed Alexander had plenty of them. But then, she’d never really thought of her cousin as a nobleman. He’d always just been Alexander.
And now she was starting to see Foxglen, not as his title, but as Eoin. And that… that was dangerous indeed.
“You are a newly minted duke,” Hannah said, “and your first thought was to locate your mother and sister to ensure that they were living good lives. Your second has been to scour the account books to determine what funds are available to reinvest in improvements for your tenant farmers. I believe you have the makings of a fine gentleman, and I’m not given to complimenting nobs. ”
Eoin’s fingers slid from his cheeks, and he shot her a shy grin, which immediately set her heart a pumping. Dash it all. This was not in her plans.
“Thank you. It’s good to have the support of someone who’s been managing a business for years.”
Hannah could sense nothing but sincerity in Eoin’s words.
A pleased warmth suffused her, and she couldn’t deny that she was being charmed.
No other compliment would have melted away her natural defenses so quickly.
She never thought a high-and-mighty duke would be the one to recognize her value when so many other men of every class dismissed her intelligence simply because she’d been born female.
Hannah suddenly found herself battling the urge to place her head upon Eoin’s exceedingly broad shoulder. She yearned to just sit in companionable silence, their bodies touching as they each drew quiet strength from the other.
But she wasn’t in his bedchamber for sweet domesticity—or fiery passion. She’d come for a purpose, and the presence of the grenade still soaking in the washbasin was empirical proof of the urgency of the matter.
“Although we certainly cannot dismiss your uncles as suspects, they may not be the persons behind this attack.” Part of Hannah hated breaking their fragile intimacy with talk of attempted murder. But it needed to be said—for more than one reason.
“Do you think we inadvertently stirred something up when we blundered into the Horse and Hen?” Eoin asked.
Hannah nodded. Although Eoin was surprisingly sheltered, he was also exceedingly keen. “The timing is suspicious unless there were other attempts against your life since your grandfather’s death.”
“This was the first,” Eoin confirmed. His voice was back to sounding dull again. Hannah hated that, yet she had no choice but to make these inquiries.
“Are you certain that there weren’t other incidents—more subtle ones that you might have overlooked? A carriage racing in your direction as soon as you started across a street? An object seemingly dropped accidentally from a window just after you passed under it? The sense of someone trailing you?”
Eoin thought for a moment, his eyes focused on a distant spot that only he could see. Finally, he shook his head. “No. Not that I recall anyway.”
“Then we cannot rule out the possibility that we stumbled upon a conspiracy yesterday.” Hannah debated for a moment if she should confess that she suspected his family members of nefarious activities.
It seemed unlikely that his uncles had any connection to the Horse and Hen.
Although the two obviously frequented disreputable establishments, they would hardly choose places that shabby.
Still, that did bring to mind another issue.
“If the attempt was triggered by our visit to the Horse and Hen, it would suggest a more sophisticated operation than the condition of the establishment would indicate.”
“I agree.” Eoin rubbed his temple but the gesture seemed more thoughtful than weary, and at least he wasn’t scraping his hands over his entire countenance. “I should have thought of it myself.”
“Someone threw an explosive through your bedroom window in the middle of the night,” Hannah pointed out. “Of course you’re not thinking properly.”
“But you are,” Eoin pointed out.
“I was most likely an accidental bystander, and besides, this isn’t my first brush with danger.”
“It isn’t?” Eoin glanced at her, his sea-blue eyes filled with palpable concern.
“Daughter of a pirate.” Hannah held up her hand and laughed.
But that wasn’t the whole truth. It was her family’s endeavors to save the downtrodden in London that put her in the most peril.
But even if she was gradually warming to Eoin, she couldn’t divulge secrets that would jeopardize not just the Black Sheep but Sophia and her friends’ personal safety.
“Ah,” Eoin answered, but Hannah sensed that he knew that she wasn’t telling him everything. “Then what does a piratess recommend for how to proceed?”
Hannah sighed. “First, I suggest we start with the nearest suspects. We should discuss tonight’s incident at breakfast tomorrow with your aunts and uncles.
Their reactions might be telling. I’ve also been meaning to talk to your butler.
Servants always know more than they let on.
As for the Horse and Hen, hopefully one of my friends from the Black Sheep will uncover pertinent information.
If not, we may need to pay the tavern another visit. ”
“Thank you,” Eoin said, his blue eyes shining in the flickering candlelight.
“For what?” Hannah asked. “My advice?”