Chapter Twenty-Four

"These are beautiful gardens." Red strode beside Hannah, taking a casual loop around the lawns with her.

"They are," she agreed.

Autumn was wearing on and the fresh spring and summer blooms were fading, but Aunt Ellen's garden was laid out with paths that wound between trees and ferns as well as some winter plants so as to keep it interesting when there was little color.

However, as beautiful as they were, Hannah rather found the discussion of such matters an odd one to be having with Red. After all, he was hardly the gardeny type.

"I like your aunt," he said finally after doing a loop around a stone statue of Venus coming from her shell.

"She's a character and that does not sit well with everyone, but I like her very much."

"Does she get lonely?"

She shook her head. Her aunt's lover had died several decades ago—or so her father muttered disapprovingly, but Aunt Ellen had never indicated she wanted to have another man in her life. She suspected there were not many men willing to take on a free spirit like her.

"She might bicker with Flora, but they are the best of friends. Flora has been with her since she was a young woman."

"But you do not visit much?"

"I have not seen Ellen since I was—" she paused to think "—about four and ten I think. I suspect my father feared she was a bad influence on me."

"And was she?"

"In some ways, perhaps."

They continued their stroll up to the small orangery at the end of the garden. The brick building was in the style of those that could be seen at estates much like Red's, with long windows and a tall roof but only housed a handful of plants. A small wrought iron table and two chairs sat tucked amongst them.

"Shall we?" Red asked.

She nodded and sat. The weather was still cool and a slight chill had wrapped about her so she welcomed the warmth of the small room, designed to house more exotic plants. The long windows and brick design kept in any heat the building captured.

"Aunt Ellen is a great believer in independence, a hard thing for women to come by. She found it by way of taking lovers, but I do not believe she ever saw them as a means to an end. My aunt is not a planner, so her gaining a roof over her head was mere luck."

"Ah."

"She does not approve of me staying at home with Father. I recall her claiming I would turn into his nursemaid one day."

"Does that worry you?"

Hannah blinked. "I did not think it did. At least not back then. Of course I was only young with no clue as to what my future held."

"But it worries you now?" He looked at her as though trying to solve a puzzle. His gaze searched her eyes, her face.

She eyed the green frond of one of the plants, tracing the veins through its leaves with one finger. "I suppose." Turning her attention back to Red, she sighed. "I have spent a lot of time looking back, wrapped up in the past. I never really thought of the present or even the future."

"You are thinking of it now, though."

"Yes." The word came out harsh.

"What do you think of when you think of the future?"

You, she longed to say. A future with you. But how could she admit to such fanciful notions.

"I suppose...I suppose whether I was to spend the rest of my days running errands for my father or waiting for him to return."

A heartbeat of silence passed between them.

"What would you do instead?"

She licked her lips. Now was her chance. But any words froze on her lips. They all sound ridiculous. I want to come to Cornwall with you. Be your lover. Be your wife. She did not care either way.

"Hannah," he said when she did not respond, his voice gruff.

"Yes."

He stood abruptly, and she blinked up at him, unsure what his intentions were. She soon found out. He lifted her bodily from the chair and pressed his mouth down on hers. She found her back pressed up against the brick wall of the orangery. His chest crushed hers. Her eyes were open for the briefest moment, able to see the fierceness and desperation in his face. She closed them once the sensations took over, no longer able to detach her mind from body.

He kept her pinned while his mouth moved across hers. His tongue probed, and she opened her mouth to him, meeting his tongue with her own. She found herself undulating into him, pressing herself against every inch of hardness there was. An ache gathered between her thighs and in her breasts, but no matter what she did, it would not be eased.

Red tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her, panting. His hair was mussed and his lips—saints preserve her—his lips were slightly swollen and all the more kissable. She ran a hand through his hair and down his cheek to feel the rough stubble there. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Hannah, you drive me wild. How is it you do this to me?"

"I-I—"

He clutched her hand and pressed it between them. She gasped at the feel of his hardness there, pulsing against his placket. She cupped her hand around his arousal to feel the true shape of him, and he groaned.

Red brought his mouth down on her neck, nipping and kissing his way up and down the arch. Sweet frissons swept through her like an endless tide that could not be held back. His hand came up to cup her breast through her stays. She moved into the touch, finally getting a little relief from the desperate ache in her nipples.

She cupped him again, and he darted back.

Hannah flattened her palms against the wall on either side of her. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." He shook his head vigorously. "No. God, it was too good. Any more of that and I would have..."

"Would have?"

"Would have taken you."

She closed her eyes and opened them, lest she was dreaming. Goodness, she should have known that was where it was leading—the ache between her thighs, the desperation for more. Had he continued, she would have let him take her.

"Red—"

He lifted a palm. "Allow me to be something of a gentleman for a change. Let us return to the cottage. You and I being alone is a dangerous thing, I think."

She straightened her shoulders and took his offered arm. There was no sense in being disappointed. Why, it was not as though she could have let him have her in the garden where her aunt could have come across them at any moment. Knowing Aunt Ellen, however, she would probably be immeasurably proud of her niece for taking an earl as her lover.

Aunt Ellen had installed herself back in the drawing room by the time they had returned. Her knitting needles clicked together as she added new row after row of pale pink wool together. She beamed at them. "Did you enjoy the gardens?"

"Yes, they are wonderful. You do look after them well." Hannah sat opposite her aunt, and Red squeezed in next to her once more.

"I have some help of course." She narrowed her gaze at Hannah. "Did you visit the orangery?"

Heat rushed into her face. "Yes." The word came out slightly strangled, and Red shifted in the seat, making her all too aware of his hard thigh pressing into hers.

"You have a bit of fern in your hair, dear," her aunt said, barely looking up from her knitting.

Frantically fumbling for it, Hannah patted her hair. Red came to her rescue and plucked out the bit of plant that must have found its way into her hair when she had been pressed against the wall.

Aunt Ellen peeked up at her, a sly smile on her face.

"Do you mind if I check on the men and the carriage?" Red asked.

She envied him being able to escape.

"Of course. Dinner shall be served in an hour so do not leave us for too long if you wish to change before dinner." Aunt Ellen lowered her knitting. "Though we never stand upon ceremony here."

"Thank you." Red bowed and ducked out of the low doorway.

Her aunt watched the doorway for a few moments giving Hannah a chance to brace herself. Apparently satisfied Red was not going to be returning anytime soon, Aunt Ellen placed down her knitting on the side table.

"Is he your lover?"

"No, of course not." Hannah should not have been surprised by the question and yet she was taken aback still.

"Was he your lover?"

"No, Aunt Ellen."

"Have you ever taken one?"

"Aunt, you are obsessed with the idea of lovers. We cannot all live as you did."

"And how is that? You cannot live with fun? With passion? With love?"

"Did you love your lovers?"

A soft small crossed the old woman's face. "Not all of them. I fancied myself a little in love with a few, but I did not love a man properly until my last."

"The man who gave you this cottage?"

"Indeed. He was married though they lived apart. It was a frightfully awful marriage." Aunt Ellen laughed. "When I first met him and he tried to entice me into his bed, I arrogantly told him I could never take just one lover. How wrong I was."

"Did you not worry about your reputation? Did people not give you the cut?"

"A few did but do not forget, my dear, that many rich and powerful men and women took lovers. As long as it was done quietly, few cared as long as they had something to gossip about." She waved a hand. "Enough about me. What of you? Do you wish him to be your lover?"

Hannah opened her mouth and clamped it shut.

"There is no need to be shy, Hannah. You are a strong, independent woman, but you are too tied to your father. It is about time you truly spread your wings. What better way than enjoying some time with your handsome earl."

"I cannot just take a lover," she spluttered.

"Why ever not? Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

"Not really."

"Then there is no harm done. Any man who cares more about the state of between your legs than you are not worth having anyway."

Hannah was beginning to feel a little faint after all this talk. It was all well and good hearing bawdy talk in the inns and even having witnessed the odd naughty tup outside a travelling inn on her journeys, but it was a little different when it was her aunt directing the conversation at her.

"I am not sure I want him as my lover, Aunt."

"Ah." Her aunt pursed her lips. "You love him. You want more from him perhaps."

It was about time she summoned the courage to give words to her feelings. "I think so."

A weight seemed to lift off her shoulders. Once she had uttered the words, the confusing fog vanished. She nodded to herself. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"So you would want marriage and all that?"

"Yes."

Her aunt shrugged. "He seems a good man, but will he stifle you?"

Hannah shook her head. "Never." She twined her fingers together and eyed them. "But it is impossible, even if he feels more than desire for me."

"Oh he does."

She snapped her gaze up. "How do you know?"

"I see the way he looks at you. It is clear as day how he feels for you."

"But even if does...care for me, our lives are very different. He is a high-ranking noble. I am a mere gentleman's daughter. He lives in Cornwall, far from everything and Father—"

"Forget your father."

"Aunt, I love my father dearly. That will not change. Does he not need me?"

"How long has he been away in France?"

"Nearly five months."

"He does not need you, my dear. He loves you, and you love him. That will not change because you are a few hundred miles from each other. That has not changed since he was in France, has it?"

"No."

Aunt Ellen leaned forward and closed her hands over Hannah's own tightly wound together fingers. "You do not need to do your father's bidding to show your love for him. You are a grown woman with interests of your own. I think it is about time you pursued them, even if that means following this earl to the end of the country. If you believe he will support your dreams and desires, then you must take the chance. Cease looking back and start moving forward."

Hannah looked at her aunt's bony fingers, her skin so cold against Hannah's and yet comforting. Did Red truly love her? Would he still support her interests if they married? She supposed he had come this far with her, but she could not forget that she had paid him to do so and this idea of a curse had forced his hand. The only way to be sure, would be to ask him. Maybe she would summon the courage tonight.

Maybe.