Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

H anna sat across from Emma in the drawing room of Hayward Manor, the light of the early afternoon streaming in through the tall windows.

“How have you been, Emma?” Hanna asked gently, pouring tea into her sister’s cup. “I’ve missed you.”

Emma offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve missed you too, Hanna. Things have been… a bit strange here if I’m being honest.”

Hanna raised an eyebrow, curious. “Strange? How so?”

Their father had always been a domineering presence in the household, controlling every aspect of their lives. Hanna could recall all too clearly his sharp words and the heavy expectations he placed on them. To hear that things were stranger than usual roused her concern.

Emma leaned forward slightly, her fingers nervously smoothing the folds of her dress. “Father has been… different lately. He hasn’t spoken to me much at all. In fact, he’s barely been around. He’s been in meetings all week, locked away in the study.”

“Meetings?” Hanna repeated, her interest sharpening. “What kind of meetings?”

Emma shook her head, her confusion evident. “I don’t know. A few men came by the other day—Lord Whitcombe, Lord Redbourne, and Sir Harold, I believe. They’re some of Father’s friends, aren’t they?”

Hanna’s heart gave a small jolt. She knew those names well enough. Lord Whitcombe was known for his questionable investments, always sniffing around for an opportunity, and Lord Redbourne’s reputation was not much better—he had a history of dubious dealings in the mercantile business. As for Sir Harold, he was a sly man who never missed a chance to better his position, no matter the cost to others.

Hanna frowned, her mind racing. “And they were meeting with Father? In the study?”

Emma nodded, her eyes searching her sister’s face for answers she couldn’t provide. “Yes, they were all here, sometimes together, and at other times one or the other would be here with Father. Father has been acting so… preoccupied ever since. He hardly even acknowledges me when I pass by. He’s been very… secretive.”

Hanna felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine. What could he be up to now? The thought unsettled her.

“Do you think it’s business-related?” Emma asked, her voice tinged with worry. “He seems… more determined than usual. I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.”

Hanna pressed her lips together, thinking. “It’s hard to say. Lord Whitcombe and the others… they’re not men I would consider trustworthy. And they never usually come here. Father generally meets them in the club.”

“Do you think it’s because of your marriage to Edwin?” Emma asked, her expression softening. “I mean, everyone knows that Edwin’s brother is the one behind Father and the others’ ruin. Maybe Father thinks that going into business with Edwin will help him in some twisted way? I can’t fathom why he wanted to be in business with him to begin with, given everything that happened.”

“It’s the vineyard—they invested in it jointly before Edwin became a duke,” Hanna explained quietly. “And it is possible that since it is profitable, Father is using it as leverage to get involved in some other businesses.”

“Is it profitable?” Emma asked.

Hanna nodded. “Yes, Edwin let me see some of the accounts. In fact, he lets me help him sometimes— properly help, not the way Father used me just to enter numbers or fix mistakes. Edwin asks for my advice.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t like the idea of him involving himself with mooncalves like Whitcombe and Redbourne in anything serious. It is one thing for them to become swill-bellied at the clubs, but anything more? They have reputations that could harm more than help.”

Emma sighed, her fingers tightening around her teacup. “I don’t like it either. Meanwhile, I am forgotten. Not that I want Father’s attention. Far from it. But he has not facilitated my going to any dinners. There are scarcely any as it is, but he hasn’t even tried to get me so much as an invitation to tea.”

Hanna’s heart squeezed at the sight of her sister’s forlorn expression. “Oh, Emma,” she murmured, reaching across the table to take her sister’s hand in her own. “I promise you, we’ll find a way to get you out in Society. I’ve written to Arabella about hosting a ball when she and Harry return. It will be a joint affair between Edwin and me and them, and we’ll make sure you’re properly introduced. We’ll find someone worthy of you, someone who will treat you with the love and respect you deserve.”

Emma’s face brightened at that, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes. “Truly? Oh, Hanna, that would be wonderful!”

Hanna smiled, though her thoughts remained clouded with concern. Something wasn’t right with their father, and she would have to find out what. If he was using her connection to Edwin for some underhanded dealings, she would need to tread carefully. For now, though, she didn’t want to burden Emma with her worries.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Emma,” Hanna promised. “You’ll have the life you deserve, I swear it.”

Emma smiled warmly, squeezing her sister’s hand in return. “Thank you, Hanna. I’m so glad you’re here.”

As they continued their tea, Hanna’s mind wandered back to her father’s meetings, her unease growing with each passing moment. Whatever he was plotting, it couldn’t be good. She would have to find a way to uncover the truth—before it was too late.

Eventually, she rose from her seat and smoothed down her skirts. “I think I shall visit with some of the maids,” she said, with a gentle smile. “I haven’t had a chance to see them since I left.”

Emma, standing to leave for her chamber, gave an understanding nod. “Of course, I shall see you soon, then. I do so adore visiting you at Ashford—it’s such an impressive estate. I can hardly wait to return.”

Hanna’s smile brightened, but her thoughts were already drifting elsewhere. “I cannot wait to have you there again, Emma. Truly, it means so much that you come.”

With a final embrace, Emma took her leave, and Hanna’s pulse quickened. The moment her sister was out of sight, she made her way quietly toward her father’s study, her heart drumming in her chest. She had not missed the opportunity Emma’s words had given her—if her father was truly involved in something dubious, she could no longer stand idly by.

For Edwin’s sake, for her own… she had to know the truth.

As she approached the closed door of the study, she paused just outside, straining her ears for any sound. Nothing. Silence reigned. But a moment later, she heard the faint clink of glass against wood from the parlor, followed by a low groan.

Her father. Drinking again, no doubt. That meant she had time, though not much.

Steeling herself, she slipped into the study, holding her breath as she carefully shut the door behind her. The room was dim. The light filtering through the partially drawn curtains cast long shadows over the large oak chest where her father kept many of his records. She walked to it swiftly, her heart racing faster with each step.

The chest loomed before her, its heavy lid as imposing as the secrets it undoubtedly held. With trembling fingers, she lifted it, wincing as the wood groaned slightly. The inside was cluttered with papers, ledgers, and letters, all jumbled up together without care. She sifted through them, her heart pounding in her throat, as though each rustle of parchment might betray her presence.

After a few agonizing moments, her fingers closed around a stack of letters. Carefully, she pulled them free and glanced over the top one, her heart sinking as she read the angry words penned by one of her father’s business partners. The letter accused her father of advising poorly, of mismanaging funds entrusted to him—of dishonesty . Each word was a nail driven into the foundation of what little trust Hanna still had in the man who had raised her.

She flipped through the rest of the letters quickly, her breath growing shallow as she found more of the same—accusations, expressions of disappointment and fury. She hesitated for only a second before folding the incriminating papers and tucking them securely into her reticule. Edwin would need to see these. Perhaps they would offer some insight into her father’s dealings, some clue as to what he had been plotting, and why those men—Whitcombe, Redbourne, and Sir Harold—had been involved.

But as her eyes scanned the remaining documents in the chest, something else caught her attention—a letter bearing a familiar seal. Her breath hitched in her throat as she recognized the Duke of Ashford’s broken seal in the wax. What on earth was a letter from Edwin’s family doing here?

With a trembling hand, Hanna reached for it, her mind racing with possibilities. Was this connected to Edwin somehow? Could her father have been meddling in their affairs?

But before she could take a look, the heavy tread of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, accompanied by a low groan. Her father. He was approaching.

Hanna’s heart leaped into her throat as panic surged through her. She had only seconds to act. The letter fell from her fingers as she hastily closed the chest, the thud of its lid much too loud in the sudden stillness of the room. She stood, breathless, her mind scrambling for some plausible excuse, her pulse a wild beat in her ears.

The door creaked open, and her father’s voice called, “What are you doing in here, Hanna?”

She froze, the letter slipping slightly from her hand as she turned to face him. There he stood, his tall broad form filling the doorway, the scent of alcohol wafting into the room with him. His eyes were narrowed on her, suspicion etched in every line of his face.

Hanna swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. She had to think quickly, to deflect whatever accusation he might hurl her way.

“I came to look for you, Father,” she offered, her voice steady despite the panic coiling in her chest. “I thought we ought to speak. I-I wanted to make things right between us, after our last argument.”

Her father sneered, stepping into the room with a lumbering gait, clearly affected by his drink. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” he drawled, collapsing into the winged armchair by the fire with a thud. “I’ve already been humiliated in my own home. First by Arabella’s husband, then yours.”

Hanna’s back stiffened, her heart still racing. “Perhaps Harry and Edwin care about their wives more than you realize.”

Her father laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mirthless. “Care for their wives? Ha! They wouldn’t even have wives if it weren’t for me,” he spat, his lip curling with disdain. “I’ve done them a favor, and this is how they repay me?”

The air in the room felt heavy, oppressive, but Hanna held her ground. “There is no need to pretend you did it out of charity,” she said quietly, her voice growing stronger with each word. “You arranged those matches for your own gain.”

At that, her father’s eyes darkened, and he rose from his chair in one swift movement, towering over her.

“I thought you had come to apologize, Hanna. But it seems you’re only here to lecture me once more. Tell me.” His voice dropped, menacing. “Were you in my study to spy on me for your husband?”

Hanna felt heat rise within her, the accusation stinging. Her hands trembled, but she kept her head up, defiance simmering in her chest.

“Of course not, Father,” she replied sharply. “I would never stoop to that level.”

“Nor would you do my bidding and spy on him in return. Or have you had a change of heart?”

She inhaled sharply. “I have not. I will not spy on my husband,” she insisted, feeling only a little guilty for actually spying on her father for Edwin.

The Earl stared at her, his gaze hard, searching. Then, slowly, deliberately, he strode around the desk and pulled out a document from one of the drawers. A dark, triumphant grin spread across his face as he held it out toward her.

“If you won’t do as I say, then perhaps this will change your mind.”

Hanna hesitated, dread pooling in her stomach, but she reached for the document nonetheless. As her eyes skimmed the words on the page, her blood ran cold.

It was a letter of intent. Her father’s friend, Lord Whitcombe, was affirming his commitment to marry Emma.

Her heart sank, fury and fear coursing through her. “This… this is madness,” Hanna stammered, the words nearly choking her. “You cannot do this, Father. You’ve always threatened us with these horrid schemes, but I won’t allow it—not this time.”

Her father’s smile was thin, cold. “This is not a mere threat, Hanna,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with menace. “This is not like when I spoke of marrying you or Bella off to Lord Redbourne. That was child’s play—idle words. This is different. Whitcombe is serious, and the arrangement has already been set in motion.”

Hanna’s heart pounded wildly, her hands shaking as she clutched the contract. She could hardly breathe, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her like a boulder. “You would sacrifice Emma’s happiness, her very life, just to serve your own ambitions?”

Her father scoffed, waving her words away. “Emma’s happiness,” he sneered. “What do you think that girl will become if I don’t act now? Old, unmarriageable. A burden . She needs a husband, and Whitcombe is more than willing to take her.”

“She needs someone who will treat her with kindness, not like a pawn in your twisted game,” Hanna shot back, her voice trembling with the force of her anger. “Lord Whitcombe is vile, and you know it. Everyone knows he ruined his maid and sent her away to live as a pauper. Nobody wants him. And his first wife?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Whitcombe’s first wife was a fool.”

“She threw herself off London Bridge because he was so horrid to her,” Hanna protested.

“Eh, Whitcombe is wealthy and well-connected, and that is all that matters. If you had half a mind for business, you would see that this is for the best.”

“For the best?” Hanna’s voice rose in disbelief. “For you , Father. Not for Emma. Not for any of us.”

Her father took a slow, threatening step toward her, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Do not test me, Hanna. You will do as I say, or you will face the consequences. And you will spy on your husband, or Emma’s future will be sealed.”

A cold sweat broke across her skin, the edges of her vision narrowing as panic set in. She couldn’t allow this—couldn’t let her father use her sister this way. But what could she do? The document in her hands was real, binding. If her father truly went through with it, Emma would be trapped. And if she refused to spy on Edwin, who knew what further lengths he would go to?

Her heart raced, her mind spinning with a thousand desperate thoughts. She could feel the walls closing in on her, her father’s words crashing down like the iron bars of a cage.

“I do not even know what you want me to do. What is it you suspect Edwin of doing?”

“I do not know. But I think he had ulterior motives when he asked for your hand. I do not believe he simply wishes to undo what his brother did to me. You know, when he first came to me, he told me that some unknown entity, a third party, was seeking to block my business endeavors out of anger over what his brother did,” he sneered. “Redbourne told me that this isn’t true. He discovered that the business I attempted to invest in was ruined by none other than your husband’s friend, the Marquess of Chester.”

Hanna wetted her lips, unsure what to say. Her father saw conspiracy wherever he went, and it was not a surprise he’d accuse Edwin of deception.

“I want you to find out if that is true—if Edwin is after me or if he genuinely wishes to succeed together. That is all. That is not so hard to find out, is it?”

“I can’t do it, Father,” Hanna said again, but her father chuckled.

“We shall see about that,” he said coldly. “One way or another, you will fall in line, Hanna. You always have.”

He turned away from her then, dismissing her as if the conversation was over, leaving her standing alone in the study, clutching the damning contract in her hands.