Chapter Twenty-One
Papa? Eoin glanced frantically from Hannah to her apparent father and then back again.
The two shared little resemblance. He was a handsome fellow, but in a more rugged way than Hannah’s classic beauty.
His hair—threaded liberally with silver—must have been a dark brown in his youth.
And while his eyes were lighter like Hannah’s, his irises were a striking cornflower blue with nary a hint of green.
Yet both father and daughter carried themselves in the exact same manner—with a boldness that would not yield to anyone or anything. Neither hid their feelings but permitted them to flow unabashedly even in the presence of strangers.
And right now, the emotion rushing from Mr. Wick was not just exceedingly palpable but also very easy to identify. Rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. The kind that only a parent protecting their young could muster.
Had the man heard the rumors swirling through London? Had he come posthaste to demand that Eoin take responsibility? If so, Eoin was already down on one knee.
“As long as your daughter accepts my troth, I will happily marry her.” Eoin forced the words out as quickly as he could, as he debated whether he should rise to greet his potential father-in-law or, if given the circumstances, it was more polite to remain kneeling.
“Unhand my daughter this instant and get to your bloody feet, so I can properly beat some sense into you, you young, insolent whelp.”
“I am proposing,” Eoin frantically tried to explain. “You do not need to force me—”
“Force you? Are you daft, you great nob? I don’t want my daughter wedding a stinking Aucourte.”
“Pa—pardon?” Eoin asked, thoroughly confused.
“Papa, please calm yourself,” Hannah said. “Eoin is only—”
“Eoin? You call him Eoin?” Mr. Wick bellowed at his daughter.
Eoin tensed, ready to jump up and place himself between them, but Hannah did not seem at all perturbed by her father’s shout.
Or at least she didn’t look cowed. She seemed exasperated.
Exasperation, that was good, right? Perhaps it was common for her father to bluster at Hannah’s suitors.
“You should listen to your daughter, Mr. Wick, and regain your composure. Elsewise, you will be the one being taught a lesson by me.” Lizzie stepped forward and smacked her right fist against her open left palm.
Eoin suppressed a groan. Although he appreciated his older sister’s immediate and unquestioning support, her assistance was the exact opposite of helpful.
“This is a family matter. I ask that you stay out of it.” Mr. Wick didn’t even bother to turn toward Lizzie. His angry glare was apparently reserved just for Eoin.
“As Eoin is my brother, this farce does very much involve me.” Lizzie’s left hand also formed into an ominous ball.
“As much as I appreciate your support, this is something I must handle myself,” Eoin said quietly just as their mother whispered loudly, “Lizzie, do not interfere unless Eoin specifically asks us.”
“I don’t bloody care how you’re related,” Mr. Wick thundered as he stomped closer to Eoin. “I just want this nob to stand up and let go of my daughter.”
Punctuating his words, Mr. Wick bent over and grabbed Eoin’s lapels. He started to yank, but Méibh took violent umbrage to the fact that someone was touching her human. She attacked in a flurry of feathers and rage.
“Owwww!” Mr. Wick leaped backward, and Méibh followed, her beak striking furiously. Mr. Wick tried to sidestep her, but she was intent on wreaking the most amount of damage.
“Owwww!” Mr. Wick grabbed his left ankle and hopped on his other foot. “Ye gads! How can such a tiny bird inflict more damage than Pan? Its beak is flat. Pan’s is sharp.”
Hannah shrugged, seeming entirely unconcerned about her father’s predicament. “Pan is vicious but lazy. Méibh pecks with more zeal.”
“Owwwwww! Can you call off your attack goose?” Mr. Wick gripped his other leg now, and Méibh fluttered her stub-wings as she assaulted whatever her beak could reach.
“She doesn’t listen to my commands,” Eoin said as he bent down to catch the battle fowl. When he cradled her in his arms, she calmed slightly. Yet her neck still moved furiously, and she landed a few strikes against Eoin’s arms.
With the gosling secured, Hannah turned toward her father, her arms akimbo. “Why you here? How are you even here?”
“I am the one who should be asking the questions. I walk in to find you with an Aucourte—”
As Eoin’s initial shock began to ebb, it struck him that Hannah’s father seemed particularly obsessed with the Aucourte name. But why? Had Eoin’s family harmed Hannah’s in the past? But if that were true, why hadn’t Hannah told Eoin? Maybe she simply did not know.
“You interrupted my proposal, so I think that entitles me to a few inquiries.” Hannah marched over to her father, her stride almost identical to his.
“Your mother and I sent a letter ahead, but we must have arrived before it,” Mr. Wick snapped. “We thought we were overdue for a visit, and seeing what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, I daresay that we were right.”
“I am exactly where I wish to be, Papa,” Hannah said.
Eoin should have felt comforted by her words, but he didn’t. There was something in her intense expression, like she was trying to send her father a wordless message. Eoin could not help but think that he was missing something critical.
“No! I won’t have you putting yourself in danger for a revenge that should be mine.” Mr. Wick was no longer shouting, and his earnest worry was apparent now that his volume was lower. “You need to end this ruse.”
Revenge? Ruse? A sick feeling twisted through Eoin, mixing with the anxiousness that he already felt at meeting Hannah’s father. The man clearly despised him or at least his family.
“Papa, this isn’t the time to—” Hannah began to say, but Lizzie out-shouted her.
“What is this about retribution and schemes?” Lizzie stormed toward Hannah. “What is your father talking about? Were you using my brother? You promised me that you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“Oh, do not act as if your family is the victim in this!” Mr. Wick was once again roaring as he rounded on Lizzie. “I return home to hear that my daughter was not only attacked by a bear, but that she was cavorting with the new Duke of Foxglen.”
“She’s the one who installed herself as my brother’s fake mistress!” Lizzie shouted right back. “I was worried that she was after his money, but she assured me she was not. Perhaps she was plotting something else!”
Eoin’s head was spinning so furiously that he could not extract one single logical thought.
Or perhaps too many facts were hitting him at once, preventing him from putting them in a proper order.
He could grasp only one at a time. “Lizzie, what are you talking about? When did you talk to Hannah about me?”
“That is between us women,” Lizzie said succinctly.
“Did you threaten my daughter?” Mr. Wick snapped.
“Papa—” Hannah tried to interject, but her father talked right over her.
“Was she not good enough for your precious family? Because she was the daughter of pirates? You Aucourtes are nothing but a family of thieves. Your grandfather stole the land that my family had tilled for generations and hid behind the law. And then when my brother and I snared a few rabbits to help feed our families, the damn duke used his connections to have us sent to the Colonies as indentured servants. My brother was fourteen, and I was but twelve. We were locked up with hardened criminals for over a month before Sophia’s grandfather rescued us.
And you—you have the audacity to claim that my daughter could hurt your brother! ”
All of Eoin’s swirling thoughts settled. An empty coldness rushed to take their place. He turned helplessly toward Hannah. “Did you know about our mutual family histories when you agreed to help me?”
All color had fled from Hannah’s normally pink cheeks, and her freckles stood out against the pale whiteness.
She looked younger and vulnerable, and the sight sliced at Eoin.
He didn’t want to hurt her. For a moment, her eyes flicked away, but she clearly forced her green gaze back in his direction.
She did not verbally answer his question, but she nodded—a short, fast bob, but it was an affirmative.
“Then why—why did you help me?” Eoin’s throat ached as if he’d pushed giant boulders up his esophagus instead of words.
He dreaded the answer, yet he needed to ask the question.
Not just for his sake but for hers. Eoin didn’t want Hannah to be forced into playing a charade.
She shouldn’t have to feign to like him to achieve recompense for what his grandfather had done to her family.
“At first—and I mean at first—I wanted to learn more about your uncles,” Hannah explained.
Eoin’s rationality returned and, with it, almost blinding pain. “That’s why you knew about the rumors that my family was involved in illicit activities. You were hoping to destroy the Aucourte name just as you did with Viscount Hawley.”
“I cannot deny that’s why I initially agreed to help, but even in the beginning, I—”
“You promised—” Lizzie began to rail, but their mother grabbed her arm.
“Lizzie, you are not helping. Let your brother and Hannah discuss this.”
“But—” Lizzie began to protest, but their mother simply marched over to the open door with her daughter in tow.
She splayed her hand over Lizzie’s head and half guided, half shoved her through the narrow opening.
Lizzie’s protests were muffled by the thick stone walls, and Eoin’s mother quickly exited the room after her eldest. When she pulled the oak panel shut, the chamber fell silent.