Chapter Twenty-Five

While the carriage was made ready, they opted for a stroll into the village. Red offered Hannah his arm and they followed a short winding lane to the main bulk of buildings. Just outside of Winchester, it benefited from being so close to the big town in that the merchants only had a short trip to replenish their supplies. The great variety of goods on offer displayed this fact from the drapers to the milliners. Each revealed an abundance of their specialty.

Hannah paused briefly to look in the shoemakers where sets of ladies and gentleman's samples were on display. Red glanced around the village. A few early risers strolled amongst the shops, fashionably dressed, though most of the passers-by were merchant men or servants. A lone carriage rolled down the road with little haste, men on horseback overtaking it as they partook in their early morning exercise.

"There is a subscription library here." He motioned over the road. "Your aunt is well situated."

She glanced up from the shoes. "Oh, that must be new."

Red took her arm once more, and they went to look in the window. "You rarely see such things in small towns. I should explore if such a thing is viable in Penshallow."

"But you are not much of a reader."

His lips quirked. "You do think me an uneducated lout, do you not?"

"Of course not." Her tone was instantly defensive.

Apparently, after yesterday, he could not tease. Tensions were too high. Even now he felt it running between them. It pounded with his every beat through him, rushing through his veins, whispering to him. You wanted to take her. You wanted to take her.

He still did. He had hardly slept at all for wanting her. All it would have taken was for him to slip out of bed, ease open the door, creep across a few creaky floorboards with great care and sneak into her room. That would have been the hardest part. Once he had gained entry into her room, he had little doubt he could have succeeded in drawing her into his arms and seducing her.

"There is quite the library at Redmere House. I confess I have little time to read these days, but I enjoyed many of those books in my youth."

They continued their stroll along the lengths of the road. The yeasty scent of freshly baked bread emerged from the bakers and wrapped about them. He inhaled deeply. Perhaps it would clear his senses.

However, when he glanced down at Hannah who was peering up at him quizzically, he knew there was little chance of that. Her hair had been styled by Flora this morning and although the style was a little old-fashioned, the delicate curls at her neck and the tight drawing back of her hair put emphasis on her features. His attention was drawn to her lips, the arch of her neck, the point of her chin. He wanted to take that chin in hand and draw her mouth to his.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You are a mystery to me sometimes, Red. Sometimes I think I will never truly know you."

"You know me."

She did. She had been the only person in the world to recognize the gentleman underneath the roguish exterior.

"I suppose I do. But you still surprise me."

He grinned. "As do you. I do not think that is a bad thing."

Like yesterday, when she had surprised him with her passion. He had nearly choked on his own breath when she had begun touching his arousal.

Although that could also be considered a bad thing because he had not been able to rid himself of the memory and had spent the rest of the day in a state of half-arousal.

As they reached the chandlery and neared the end of the street, a young man paused in front of them and eyed Hannah. Recognition flickered on his face, and Red felt Hannah stiffen beside him.

"Hannah St. John?"

She nodded. "And you are Barnaby Shaw."

"Well remembered. What brings you to Oakley?"

"I am here visiting my aunt. We are on our way to London."

"Forgive me," he said, finally noticing Red. "Mr. Barnaby Shaw at your service."

Red had taken an instant disliking to him. He could not say why, logically, as Hannah was so fond of saying, but there was something in his keen gaze as it landed on Hannah that made him curl a fist.

About half a head shorter than Red, Barnaby had sandy hair, neatly trimmed and was not unhandsome. With a strong jaw and clear blue eyes, Red imagined he was well sought after by the women. Barnaby's build was a little leaner than his own, but well-cut and tailored clothing made up for that.

Red lifted his chin. "Lord Guy Kingsley, Earl of Redmere."

Barnaby bowed low but met his gaze boldly. Apparently the sound of Red's title had little impact on the man.

"And what of you, Barnaby? What is the reason for your visit?"

"I am here to visit my cousin. She has just recently given birth to a baby boy."

"You shall have to give her my congratulations."

Barnaby smiled. "She shall be pleased to hear of you. You look well indeed."

Hannah arched a brow. "That is not what you said last time we met."

The man's smile dropped. "You must forgive the words of a jilted young man. We are so full of pride at that age."

"You were hardly jilted, Barnaby."

He chuckled. "My heart certainly felt jilted." He looked to Red. "How easily these women may break our hearts, eh?"

"Indeed," Red said stiffly. Jilted? Had they been engaged? Was there some affection? Love? Who the devil was this man?

"How long are you staying in town?"

"We leave before lunch," Red put in.

"Ah. That is a shame. I thought we might be able to catch up. Are your, erm, circumstances still the same? I may address you as Miss St. John?"

Hannah nodded, and Red did not like how the man's eyes sparked with excitement.

"Perhaps we could catch up quickly, before you leave?"

Red made a grunting sound. Christ, he might as well have not been stood there. Barnaby was intent on ignoring him and focusing his full attention on Hannah.

"I am sorry, but we do not have time."

The man's face crumpled a little. "You are still in Alresford, are you not?"

"Yes, my father still lives there."

"I shall have to endeavor to stop by."

"I am sure he would welcome the visit," Hannah said coolly.

"I hope you would too." Barnaby gave her a hopeful smile.

"That is if I am there. I do travel quite a bit."

"Well, I shall take my chance and hope for the best." He lifted his hat. "It was a true pleasure seeing you again, Hannah."

Red bristled at the use of her name. "Come, my dear," he said, his voice overly snooty. "We had better get on if we are to make it to London in time. No doubt there is many there who are eager to see you."

Barnaby gave a quick bow and ducked away, put back by Red's comment. Red hoped the man imagined Hannah had hundreds of suitors in every town and a simple country boy would never be good enough for her.

Hannah chuckled a little as they did a loop back around and strolled down the opposite side of the road.

"Persistent chap," Red muttered.

She sighed. "Yes, he has not changed."

"How do you know him?"

"My Father and his are good friends though he lives on the other side of Winchester. We spent some time together throughout our childhood, and they both came to visit a few years ago. That was the last I saw of him. I'm afraid I rather hurt his pride."

"His pride seems well enough now."

"Yes, it does. I am surprised he even wished to speak with me."

"You did not wish to speak to him," Red stated.

"Not at all. He was quite rude to me upon his last visit."

"How so?"

"He inferred he had romantic feelings toward me. I did not have any for him, however." She glanced up at him. "I tried to be kind, but he did not take it well. He accused me of spending too much time with my nose buried in history books to see what was in front of me then declared no one would marry a bluestocking."

Red winced, fully aware he had called her as much many a time. "Foolish man. He had to have had fragile pride indeed."

"I am well-aware how weak the male pride can be. When your father is involved in study and research, you see them clamor over the prizes and the accolades."

"Come now, we are not all so terrible. I would not relish being turned down by you, but I would certainly never stoop so low as to declare such nonsense."

"You would not," she agreed. "But he was a young, silly man." She peered back to where they had been standing. "I do not think he has changed particularly."

"So you are not interested in him?"

"Not at all."

Relief made his body relax. Of course she was not. Hannah was no fickle creature, yet he could not deny, the idea of her being pursued by anyone else made his skin hot. He had wanted to thrust his fist right through the nearest window when Barnaby had looked at her with such admiration.

"I do wonder if he did not have a point, though," she mused.

"That fool? I am not sure he would know a point if you thrust it in his face."

She laughed. "It is true, though. I have spent much of my life studying and researching. How much did I miss because of it?"

"Hannah, your interest in history is admirable. It is a far better way of spending your time than playing piano or embroidering cushions. Do not regret that."

"I will always adore history, nothing will change that. I want to know more, always, but even my aunt expressed that I have missed out on much because of following my father about." She pursed her lips. "I wonder, sometimes, about the places I have been. I hardly remember them except for what we went there to study."

"There is no reason you cannot change that."

"Yes," she agreed.

A quiet bubble of hope began to boil in him. Hannah wanted life to change. She could have no idea how courageous it was of her to admit as much. The majority of men and women, Red had discovered, loathed change. They would do whatever they could to keep things the same, even if it was against their own interests. Few had the courage she did.

And if she wanted her life to change, he could offer her the biggest change of all. But would she really be willing to be with a smuggler and take on all the risks that came with it? Even her inferior rank did not concern him. He had no father to impress any longer, and he cared little for what anyone else thought. The local people would probably be pleased he had picked someone of lower rank.

Good God, he was gone. He had fallen entirely. He wanted to marry this bluestocking and take her home to be a smuggler's wife.

They made their way back along the lane toward her aunt's cottage. He felt as though he were walking in a daze. Something inside him had twisted and changed. He was a new man, excited for a future he prayed he could get. His life had been about the present and little else. When their next shipment would come. Could they avoid the excise men yet again? How would he disperse the goods? Whilst he had accused Hannah of looking back too much, he had not been looking forward at all. He had lived in stasis for too long.

He narrowed his gaze at the approaching man—one of the footmen, he realized. A heavy weight came to rest in his stomach. What now?

"One of the horses has thrown a shoe, my lord. We will have to get him reshod."

The weight in his gut lifted. "Do you think your aunt will mind if we stay an extra night?"

Hannah beamed back at him. "Of course not."

A foolish grin worked across his face. Another night with Hannah. Maybe he would broach the subject of him courting her tonight.

Maybe.