Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“ R emember what I said. Stay away from the host. You know the stories. Stay away . Mingle all you can, find yourself some handsome gentlemen to dance with, set your cap for him, and reel him in,” the Earl said. “It is time I got another one of you out of my house.”

Hanna looked at Emma, who appeared utterly miserable. They had been looking forward to the ball, even though the stories they had heard about its host were truly horrific. Still, a scandal attached to a name paled in comparison to the boredom that had set in during the off-season.

Indeed, they had to wait quite some time to be let in, long enough for their father to actually catch up and send their lady’s maid as the appointed chaperone once more.

“I wish Father would go away or disappear into the refreshment room instead. I cannot believe he is here. He will ruin our chances. Everybody is going to remember what a horrid man he is,” Emma muttered under her breath.

Hanna shook her head. “There is more goodwill toward him now. What with his business almost going under, and with his association with Harry.”

“Even still, they know what he is. They know he is a drunkard. They know he is useless to the House of Lords,” Emma said. “We would have a much better chance at finding husbands if he?—”

“Girls,” their father interjected. “Do not whisper amongst yourselves. Pull your shoulders back, chests out, heads held high, and smiles, smiles, smiles,” he said. “There’s Lord Dover. He makes ￡20,000 a year, and he is desperate for a wife. Smile. I hear he likes big bosoms.”

Hanna gasped at the comment, and Emma grew red underneath her carefully applied white pearl powder.

“Father,” Hanna said, “it is crude to talk ab?—”

“And so what if it is?” the Earl scoffed. “You need to take advantage of every opportunity. Especially you, Hanna. You are four-and-twenty. If I do not find you a husband this year, you will be on the shelf. Is that what you want to be? An ape leader?”

Hanna’s heart fluttered, but not in the pleasant way it sometimes did when a handsome gentleman paid her attention.

She did not need to be reminded of her age and status in Society. In fact, she was acutely aware of it.

Knowing that her youngest sister was already married with her first child on the way didn’t help things. Arabella had done her very best to find her a match, and her brother-in-law had even hired the best matchmaker in town, but circumstances had prevented Hanna from finding a good match. She did not need to be reminded of this circumstance at every turn.

She inhaled deeply, then let out a breath, sweat beading on her forehead as she looked around. Every young lady was younger than her. Gentlemen looked at Emma, but not at Hanna. But her father was right. What if she ended up an ape leader?

Her stomach turned, and she felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

“Oh no,” she mumbled and looked at Emma.

“Are you having a fit?” Emma asked.

Hanna nodded. “I feel one coming. I must go outside. I must get some air,” she muttered.

She rushed toward the door leading to the garden. Candles had been lit outside, so she could tell the direction even though she had never been to this place before.

Her father called after her, “Do not tell me you’re having another fit! It is a disgrace. Get a hold of yourself. Use your smelling salts.”

His voice faded away as she put distance between herself, her father, and her sister. She grabbed the door handle, feeling the cool, smooth metal under her hand, and stepped outside.

She stumbled down the five stone steps and turned right, where a narrow, low wall ran along the edge of the veranda. She made it as far as the spot where the windows of the ballroom stopped and sat on the wall, her head hanging between her legs.

Her heart was beating fast, and her breathing was ragged. If she couldn’t calm herself, she would faint. And then where would she be? In addition to her family’s sketchy past, she would gain a reputation for being unreliable and dramatic.

“Miss?” a voice came from behind her, and she looked up as she sat up straight, gasping.

Standing before her was a tall gentleman with broad shoulders, black hair, and eyes so dark they looked almost black.

He squatted before her. “You must take a deep breath and count to four. After me, breathe in.”

Hanna wasn’t sure who he was, but she was quite desperate for relief. She had tried breathing exercises before, but whenever she was extremely anxious, she could not remember them.

The man breathed in deeply, indicating for her to follow his example. She did, held her breath, and counted to four.

“And now exhale through your nose and count to four again,” he said, demonstrating.

She did as he had instructed and was about to take another deep breath when he placed his hand on her arm and shook his head. “No. Count to four again before you take another breath.”

Hanna knew she should be alarmed by the feel of his hand on her arm, but she also knew that she was still in danger of fainting. Her heart was still beating extremely fast, and the world around her was becoming blurry.

“Breathe in,” the man instructed again.

They repeated the exercise several more times, and she felt her heart rate slowing each time.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked.

It was only then that Hanna noticed how deep his voice was and how raspy it sounded. Not the same raspiness characteristic of regular pipe smokers’ voices, but rather a pleasant, smooth raspiness—like the crackling of fire on a cold night.

“Do you feel better, My Lady?”

“Yes. I also feel foolish. Sometimes I get these fits…”

“Not at all. My sister-in-law had them sometimes. She didn’t particularly like large crowds,” he said.

“Neither do I,” Hanna admitted. “I prefer to be on my own or with my sister, or with a few friends…” she added, not wanting to come off as a hermit. “That is not to say that I don’t enjoy balls—I do. But sometimes I become overwhelmed, and then…”

Her breathing was growing ragged again, and she scolded herself inwardly for trying so hard to impress this gentleman.

“You must calm yourself, or we’ll have to start the breathing exercises from the very beginning,” he said with a smile, and somehow his easy manner made her instantly calm down.

“You are right. In any case, thank you. My father would have been mortified if we had to leave because of one of my fits.”

“I see, you are here with your father? I was about to offer to fetch your chaperone for you, but now I am not so sure. Is your mother harsh also?”

Hanna pressed her lips together and shook her head. “My mother passed away many, many years ago. It’s just my father, my sister, and I. My sister Emma. My other sister, Arabella, is married now.”

Something in the man’s expression shifted—recognition. Instantly, Hanna braced herself for rejection because she knew how people tended to react to any mention of her father.

“Arabella? Is your sister the Duchess of Sheffield?”

“Yes,” she said. “I am Hanna Hayward. My father is the Earl of Worcester.”

The man nodded. “I am familiar with him. I can see now why you would not want me to fetch him.” He got up and offered his arm. “Shall I escort you back inside then?”

She nodded, feeling sudden sadness wash over her. The moment she had said her name, the gentleman had lost interest in her. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

She stood up and took his proffered arm, and then they made their way back into the ballroom.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked.

Hanna nodded. “I am. My sister is over yonder, and my father is over at the… refreshments table,” she said as she watched her father down a glass of wine and reach for another.

The man looked at her father and nodded. “I see.”

“Well, I thank you once more. You were most kind to me.”

“I could not very well let a lady faint in the garden,” he said and then bowed his head before disappearing into the crowd.

It was twenty full minutes after Hanna had returned to the ballroom when she found Emma. Her sister stumbled off the dance floor, red in the face, and her eyes narrowed.

“Goodness gracious, I am lost,” Emma huffed. “Lord Farnsworth—the mouth on him! You should’ve heard him. What a cad!” She glanced over her shoulder at the young Baron who stood there, raising his glass in their direction.

“He suggested improper things?”

“Proper things, improper things, impossible things. It was dreadful. I thought I might faint,” she said, then grew serious. “Do you feel better? I tried to follow you, but Father would not let me.”

“I’m fine. I felt faint, but I recovered quickly,” Hanna said with a smile. “I just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”

“I should’ve suggested that we stay at home the moment Father announced he was going to come with us.” Emma shook her head. “I should’ve known he was going to make it impossible.”

“He’s never going to change. If we allow him to rule our lives, we will never find husbands. Where is he anyway?” Hanna asked with a shrug. “I saw him at the refreshments table when I came back in, but he’s nowhere to be seen now.”

“I’m not sure. I saw him disappear down the hall with some other gentleman halfway through the cotillion, which was two dances ago.”

“You were on the dance floor for three dances straight! Your dance card was full!” Hanna exclaimed, impressed and pleased for her sister at once.

“Only because I was standing like a wallflower after you ran off to the garden, and Farnsworth and two of his friends approached me, signing up for the dances. Do not fret, his friends were also dreadful. One a deuced bore and the other a gabster of the highest caliber.”

“Ah well, at least you got to dance,” Hanna said, trying to be positive.

Her sister opened her mouth to reply, but then her eyes grew wide.

“Oh, there he is now,” Emma noted, pointing to their father. “Who is with him?”

Hanna turned back, and her jaw fell open. Walking beside her father was none other than the gentleman with whom she had conversed in the garden. Why was he with her father? Had her savior turned on her and informed him of her troubles in the garden, after all?

Bracing herself, she watched as the two men approached.

“Ah, there you are,” her father said.

She noted that he appeared more reserved than usual. He had several drinks—she knew that—but he was acting surprisingly sober.

“My daughters,” he said. “Lady Hanna, Lady Emma.” He turned to the gentleman, whose eyes were fixed on Hanna’s face, which burned so hard she was sure she was as red as a tomato. “And this is His Grace, the Duke of Ashford. Our host.”

Her mouth, which she had just managed to close, wanted to fall open again, and it took all her power to keep her composure. This was the Duke of Ashford? The man about whom so many horrible rumors circulated? He was the one who had helped her?

“Your Grace,” Emma greeted, curtsying gracefully.

Hanna quickly followed suit, focusing so that she did not trip on her skirts.

The Duke bowed and kissed each of their hands. As he kissed Hanna’s, he looked up, and their eyes met. He looked at her intensely, his black eyes sparkling, and her stomach twisted. She had thought him so kind and handsome, and now here she was, looking into the eyes of someone who might very well be a monstrous murderer or, at least, someone who had the worst reputation in the ton.

“Your father has told me so much about you,” he offered.

“That is very kind of him. I did not know that you were familiar with one another beyond a mere connection through your brother,” she said.

The Duke flinched and looked away, focusing on her father. “Lord Worcester, it was a pleasure to see you again. Lady Emma, Lady Hanna,” he said with a courteous nod. “We shall talk again soon,” he said to her father.

There was something in his voice that gave her pause. It wasn’t the usual nonchalant manner in which someone might make such a greeting. There was something else there. Something… threatening? Hanna wasn’t sure why it sounded threatening, and then she reminded herself of his reputation and Emma’s words earlier. One couldn’t believe everything written in the scandal sheets. The ton thrived on rumors and gossip, and she would be foolish to believe everything she read.

As he walked away, she could not ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach, as if something had changed. As if her world was tipped slightly off its axis. But why, she did not know. All she could do was push the strange feelings aside and try to focus on the present.

Still, as she looked at the Duke of Ashford’s retreating figure, she could not help but feel a strange tingle in her stomach—as if this would not be the last time she’d see him.

And she was not entirely certain if that was a good thing—or a terrible one.