Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

H anna blinked as a shaft of sunlight spilled through the tall windows, momentarily blinding her. She shifted on the chaise, pulling the yarn behind her and carefully counting the stitches she had made. Each one had to be perfect.

There was nothing more frustrating than completing a project, only to find holes where stitches had been miscounted. This one in particular had to be flawless—it was meant to be a gift for Emma. Her sister had been beside herself with worry these last few days, terrified that their father might indeed follow through on his dreadful threat to marry her off to Lord Whitcombe.

Their father had made such threats before, ever since their childhood, always pairing them with one of his old friends. Yet, as Edwin had said, those had always been empty threats.

Until now. This time, it was real—Whitcombe had made his intentions clear, and Hanna did not doubt that her father, ever unpredictable and unstable, would carry it through. Marrying Emma off to Whitcombe was within his grasp.

And as for the threat to harm Edwin… well, Hanna wasn’t sure. Her father had become so erratic, especially when he was deep in his cups, that she couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility. The thought chilled her to the bone. She could only pray that Edwin would stop digging into the past and give up his mission to prove Benjamin’s innocence.

“I’m a dreadful person,” Hanna whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. “Indeed, I am wretched.”

Her father had confessed that Benjamin was innocent. Yet, here she was, withholding that very truth from her husband. Should she simply confess it to Edwin?

“No.”

She shook her head, aware that she had spoken aloud again. That would be reckless—dangerous, even. She had made her choice. If she wanted to save Emma from the likes of Whitcombe and keep Edwin safe, she had to do what her father asked.

With a heavy sigh, she set the yarn aside, letting it slip from her lap. She had already done her father’s bidding, and in return, he had agreed to hold off his arrangement with Whitcombe—at least for now. But Edwin… Edwin remained resolute, his determination unyielding.

He had not wavered.

Hanna needed to hear him promise to let the matter rest, but deep down, she feared he would never do so. She knew all too well that if it had been one of her sisters or her brother accused of such vile misdeeds, she would never cease in her efforts to prove their innocence. No matter the evidence.

“If only I had the original letters,” she muttered to herself.

If she could find them, perhaps she could tell Edwin the truth. But no. It was no use. She had already chosen her path. Her father had won.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the front door opening, followed by the low murmur of voices drifting down the hallway. Recognizing Edwin’s and Martin’s voices among them, she stood up, leaving her yarn and hook on the seat. The men were on their way to Edwin’s study, and from the snippets of conversation she caught, there were others with them.

“Glad you called on us,” one of the men said, his voice already fading as they passed the drawing room door.

From the back, Hanna could tell he was tall, with a shock of dark hair and broad shoulders. Another man walked beside him, shorter, with ginger hair.

She frowned, her curiosity piqued. Who were these men? And what was their business with Edwin?

She heard Edwin’s quiet reply, though his words were too low for her to discern, before the group disappeared into the study.

Hanna hesitated, torn between returning to her seat and following them. The latter won out.

As she made her way down the hall, she caught sight of Viola.

“Your Grace,” Viola said, curtsying. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Is something amiss?”

“No, Viola,” Hanna replied quickly, offering a tight smile. “Nothing is the matter.” She paused, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Those gentlemen with my husband just now—who are they?”

Viola tilted her head, thinking. “I saw them arrive in a hired coach, Your Grace. Mr. Baxter went out to pay the driver.”

Hanna’s brow furrowed. A hired coach? These men were not gentlemen, then. Most gentlemen had their own carriages. But if Edwin was paying for their journey, what business did they have with him?

“Shall I ask him?” Viola offered.

“No need to inquire further,” Hanna said, dismissing her with a nod.

She watched as her maid curtsied again and left, and then, almost without thinking, she found herself walking toward the study. The door was heavy, and muffled voices filtered through the thick wood.

She glanced quickly down the hall, ensuring no one was nearby, before pressing her ear against the door near the hinges—just as she had done countless times in her youth when she and her sisters would eavesdrop on their father.

“An untrained eye would find these convincing enough,” a man’s voice said from within. “But you’re certain?”

“I am,” came Edwin’s voice, low and tense. “My brother was many things, but he was not a man to make idle threats. He could be rash, even headstrong, but never cruel—not like these letters suggest.”

“Let me see them again,” the man demanded, followed by the rustle of papers. “It’s possible they’re forgeries. A skilled forger could do it—use copied words, blend them. And this… this is high-quality work, but it’s not impossible.”

Hanna’s heart raced as she listened, dread pooling in her stomach.

“And you believe Worcester to be behind this?” another man, likely Martin, asked.

“I do,” Edwin responded, his voice hard. “He was my brother’s partner. Worcester claims Benjamin was the one who misappropriated the funds, that he funneled them into… unsavory ventures. But I will prove him guilty.”

The first man spoke up. “Thomas is right—it’s a tangled business. Your brother lost his life because of it, and now you’re seeking to clear his name.”

There was a pause, and then the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

“Worcester… you mean, your father-in-law?” Thomas asked, whistling under his breath. “What does the Duchess think of all this?”

Hanna’s heart clenched, but relief washed over her when Edwin replied, “I wish to keep her away from it. She knows what her father is capable of, but there’s no need to burden her further.”

“And what is it you need?” Thomas asked.

“I need to prove Benjamin’s innocence,” Edwin said, his voice growing resolute. “And to expose Worcester. Whatever it takes, whatever the cost.”

“It’ll be a costly endeavor,” Thomas cautioned. “And dangerous.”

“I don’t care what it costs,” Edwin insisted fiercely. “I’ll pay it. I’ll never give up.”

Hanna’s blood ran cold. Edwin was more determined than ever. He would never stop.

Swallowing hard, she turned away from the door, her heart pounding in her chest. As she moved quickly down the hall, her eyes caught sight of her father’s carriage pulling up outside.

Her heart sank.

She stepped outside, her face still flushed from eavesdropping on Edwin’s conversation with the investigators. Her thoughts swirled in a tempest of guilt, fear, and uncertainty. She spotted the footman lowering the steps as the imposing figure of Lord Worcester leaned out of the window.

“Hanna!” her father’s voice boomed from the carriage. “Come here, girl.”

Hanna’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly smoothed her gown, casting a wary glance toward the house, where the men were still discussing their plans to uncover the truth about her father. She wanted nothing more than to avoid this encounter, but it was impossible now.

“I’m rather busy,” she called back, moving closer but keeping her distance from the carriage. “We have guests.”

Her father’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It will not take long. Come now, climb in.” He pushed the door open and waved a hand impatiently to usher her inside. “A brief ride, that’s all.”

Hanna hesitated, her gaze turning back to Ashford Manor. Edwin and the others were likely still deep in conversation. If she delayed, someone might notice her absence and inquire where she had gone. She could feel the weight of her father’s stare pressing on her, demanding compliance. With a resigned sigh, she stepped forward and climbed into the carriage.

The door clicked shut behind her, and as soon as she settled into the velvet seat, the carriage lurched forward, the clip-clip of horses’ hooves on the gravel filling the tense silence between them. Hanna sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her stomach churning as her father turned his sharp eyes on her.

“Well?” he began, leaning back and resting one arm on the cushion. “Have you spoken to Edwin again? Did he bring up the misappropriation of the funds again?”

Hanna felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She clasped her hands together tighter, unsure of how much she should say. If she revealed anything about the investigators in the house, her father would become even more dangerous. He would tighten his grip on her, perhaps harm Edwin or Emma in ways she dared not imagine.

“We… we haven’t spoken much of it,” she lied, her voice barely steady. “Edwin has been rather melancholy, quiet. I believe he has given up. He’s… rather sad about the whole affair.” She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “It seems he’s come to terms with the matter.”

Her father watched her closely, his eyes narrowing as if considering her words. Then, a grin slowly spread across his face, cold and triumphant. “Good. You’ve done very well, Hanna.” His voice was smug, a touch of condescension in it. “I knew you would.”

Hanna felt her stomach twist painfully at his approval. She wanted to recoil, to protest, but she could not. Every lie she told, every time she reassured him, only tightened the web in which she was trapped.

She had thought that protecting Emma and Edwin from her father’s wrath would ease her conscience, but now it felt like a noose tightening around her neck.

As if sensing her discomfort, her father leaned forward, his voice growing unnervingly warm. “Now, just to show there are no hard feelings, I think it’s time for some festivities. I’ll host a ball at Hayward Manor.”

“A… a ball?” Hanna’s heart sank. The thought of returning to her father’s estate, of watching him parade in front of their guests as if nothing were amiss, filled her with dread. “Is that… necessary?”

“Of course, it is,” her father replied smoothly, his smile still fixed in place. “A grand affair. We’ll invite all the important families. It’s high time we showed the world there’s no discord between our two houses.” He leaned back again, his eyes glittering with malice. “And it will give us all a chance to move forward. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Hanna felt trapped, as though the walls of the carriage were closing in on her. The very thought of attending such an event, pretending that all was well, made her feel ill. But what could she say? Refusing would only arouse suspicion and give her father more reason to push her further.

She forced a weak smile. “Yes, Father. Of course.”