Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

E dwin sat at his desk, staring into the fire crackling in the hearth. The soft glow of the flames danced across the room, casting long shadows on the walls of his study, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts had been consumed by Hanna’s visit to her father.

They had agreed she would search for anything that might shed light on his misdeeds, but it wasn’t merely the evidence he eagerly awaited. He had been thinking of her all afternoon—the way her presence had come to mean more to him than he dared to admit.

He had to tell her the truth behind his request and their marriage, he knew this. But when and how he ought to broach such a subject eluded him thus far. He had to find a way to tell her without upsetting her, without causing her to lose trust in him.

The clock in the corner ticked steadily, its rhythm marking the slow passage of time, until at last, he heard the familiar creak of the front door. He rose from his chair and quickly headed to the hall, eager to greet her. His pulse quickened at the thought of seeing her again, but as soon as his eyes landed on her, he froze.

Hanna stood at the threshold, her face pale, her expression distant. She didn’t meet his gaze, and the sight of her, so subdued and unlike herself, made his heart race with concern.

Something was amiss.

“Hanna,” he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the hall to her. “What is it? Did your father say or do something to upset you?”

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers clenching the fabric of her gown, then shook her head slightly, though her eyes remained downcast.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she murmured.

Edwin’s brow furrowed. “You look unwell,” he pressed, stepping closer to her, his hand almost reaching for hers. “Are you sure nothing happened? You’re as pale as I’ve ever seen you.”

Hanna swallowed, a flicker of something—was it fear?—crossing her face. She turned her gaze to the staircase. “I—I have a megrim,” she said abruptly, her voice lacking its usual warmth.

Without another word, she pushed past him, her footsteps quick as she ascended the stairs, leaving him standing in the hall, bewildered.

Edwin watched her retreating figure, the soft swish of her skirts fading as she reached the top landing. His chest tightened. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones—the way she had avoided his eyes, the forced detachment in her voice. No, there was something darker at play.

This was the Hanna who’d first arrived in his home weeks ago, the Hanna who did not want to be near him, who feared him and who’d rather have starved herself than be married to him. But he’d thought they were past all of that.

Had he been wrong?

His hand fell to his side, his fingers curling into a fist as he wrestled with the urge to follow her. What had happened? What had her father done to unsettle her so? She had left to search for evidence, but it seemed she had returned with a burden far greater than they had anticipated.

Later that evening, Edwin sat at the long dining table, his eyes drifting to the empty seat beside him, where Hanna’s place had been set. The soft clatter of silver against porcelain filled the quiet room as he absentmindedly stirred his white soup, his appetite dulled by the gnawing weight of guilt. Ruby, curled up at his feet, snored softly, his presence a small comfort.

He had been the one to set Hanna on this path, to ask her to involve herself in her father’s affairs, and now, seeing how distant she had been upon her return, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had placed a burden on her that was far too heavy.

The memory of her pale face and hollow voice from earlier in the day lingered, tightening the knot in his chest. He pushed the soup away, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his temples, wishing he could undo the weight he had thrust upon her.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps broke the silence, and Edwin looked up as Hanna entered the room. She moved quietly, her expression guarded but composed, and without a word, she took her seat beside him, arranging her napkin on her lap with slow, deliberate movements.

“I am sorry for being late,” she said, her voice even, though there was a tightness to it, as if something weighed heavily on her mind.

“There is no need for apologies,” Edwin replied gently, studying her face, searching for any sign of what was truly troubling her. “I only hope you are feeling better now. Has your megrim subsided?”

Hanna hesitated, her hand stilling on her napkin for a brief moment before she raised her eyes to meet his. There was a flicker of confusion in her gaze, as though she had momentarily forgotten the excuse she had given him earlier. But then she quickly recovered, offering him a small, distracted smile.

“Yes, it has,” she responded.

Edwin frowned, sensing something was off, though he could not quite place it. “And your visit to your father’s… Did everything go well?”

For a moment, Hanna’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she were weighing her words. She shifted in her chair, glancing down at the plate before her, her fingers lightly tapping the edge.

“I was unable to find any evidence,” she finally said in a measured voice. “But I will try again.”

Edwin’s heart sank at her words, though it wasn’t the lack of evidence that concerned him. It was the way she avoided his gaze, the way her voice held a certain distance, a reluctance that gave him pause. There was something unspoken, something hidden beneath her words, but he did not press further. Not yet.

He nodded slowly, though unease gnawed at him. “I see.”

The silence between them grew heavy, the clinking of silverware the only sound in the room. Edwin was about to speak again, to perhaps find a way to lighten the conversation, when a sudden noise outside drew his attention. The faint rumble of carriage wheels approached, followed by the unmistakable creak of it coming to a stop at the front of the house.

Edwin glanced toward the window, then rose from his seat to peer outside. The dim light from the sconces outside illuminated a familiar figure stepping down from the carriage.

He turned to Hanna. “It’s Emma. She has just arrived.”

Hanna’s eyes widened, and without a word, she quickly rose from her chair. There was a flash of something—relief, perhaps—in her expression, as though the unexpected arrival of her sister was a welcome distraction from whatever weighed on her heart. She didn’t wait for further explanation, hastily smoothing the skirts of her gown before rushing toward the hall.

Edwin stood by the window, watching as Hanna disappeared into the corridor, her hurried footsteps echoing through the house. His mind lingered on the conversation they had just shared—or rather, the conversation they had avoided. He could not shake the feeling that something more had happened at her father’s house, something she had not yet told him. The tension in her voice, the way she had looked away, unsettled him deeply.

But as much as he longed to confront her, to demand the truth, he knew he would have to be patient. Whatever Hanna had discovered—or whatever troubled her—would reveal itself in time. For now, he would wait.

Edwin stood in the dimly lit hall, watching as Emma hurried inside, her face flushed and her chest heaving with ragged breaths. The lamplight caught the tears streaming down her cheeks, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to compose herself. Her distress was palpable, and the sight of it stirred something within him—a deep unease that he could not ignore.

Before he could fully process what was happening, he stepped forward, his voice gentle but concerned. “Is there anything I can do to be of assistance, Lady Emma?”

But before Emma could answer, Hanna’s sharp gaze cut across the space between them. Her eyes flashed with protectiveness, and at that moment, it was clear she did not want him to interfere.

“I will tend to my sister,” she said, her voice firm, leaving little room for argument.

Edwin blinked, taken aback by the sudden coldness in her voice. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything more, Hanna had already slipped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and was guiding her toward the grand staircase. They moved swiftly, Emma’s soft sobs barely muffled as they disappeared from view.

He stood rooted to the spot, his confusion growing. The air felt heavier, more oppressive, as though the weight of whatever had upset Emma was pressing down on him, too.

What had happened? And why had Hanna shut him out so completely?

Just as he was about to turn away, Edwin felt a familiar brush against his leg. Ruby had trotted up to him, his soft brown eyes full of warmth as he gazed up at him, his tail wagging slightly. The sight of the dog brought him a brief, fleeting sense of comfort.

“Well,” Edwin murmured with a half-hearted smile, bending down to pat his head, “I suppose it’s just the two of us then, isn’t it, boy?”

But Ruby, in his usual fashion, seemed to have his own ideas. Instead of staying by Edwin’s side, he let out a soft huff, turned his back on him, and padded up the stairs after the two sisters, leaving Edwin standing there, utterly alone in the echoing silence of the hall.

His heart sank, the emptiness of the moment settling over him like a suffocating blanket. Everything felt wrong. Hanna’s distance, her sister’s tears, even Ruby’s desertion—it all gnawed at him, twisting his thoughts into tighter knots.

How had this all become so complicated? He knew the answer, of course. When he’d grown to care about Hanna, when he’d assumed the responsibility. He should have kept things neutral between them, a marriage of convenience like so many others in the ton. But no, his heart had decided to care for her.

Now, he was caught in this web of his own making, and for what? To vindicate his brother, who was already buried six feet under? He closed his eyes and paused his pacing, staring down at his reflection on the polished floor.

His jaw tightened. Perhaps it was time to tell her everything. If she was already pulling away from him, what more harm could the truth do? And yet, the thought of losing her trust—losing her entirely—was a fear so deep he could barely consider it.

A faint rustle from upstairs brought him back to the present. Hanna and Emma were up there, no doubt talking, sharing their secrets, while he remained in the dark. It was becoming clear that if he wanted to be truly a part of her life, to stand by her as a real husband, he would have to take that step, even if it risked shattering what little trust they had built.

With a heavy sigh, Edwin made his way toward his study. There was no use standing idly in the hall, waiting for answers that wouldn’t come. He would let the night pass, but soon— very soon—he would have to face the truth and the consequences of it, whatever they might be.