Chapter
4

Hannah wiped the last trace of moisture from the work surfaces with a rough towel. All the chores were done for the moment, yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave the kitchen. Truth be told, she was waiting for Nolan to come down from his mother’s room.

Her heart squeezed at the anguish he must be facing. Word had spread throughout the house that Mrs. Price was dying, and Hannah knew her demise would devastate Nolan. She pushed the stray wisps of hair off her damp forehead. How she wished she could do something to ease his pain.

“You’re still here? I thought you’d be done by now.” Mrs. Edna Bridges shuffled into the kitchen. Without her apron and cap, she appeared more like a grandmother than a cook.

Warmth curled through Hannah at the sight of her. Edna had certainly been both a mother and grandmother to her. Her dearest champion since Hannah’s first days at Stainsby.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” she scolded the older woman.

Edna took out the small copper kettle, placed it on the range, and stoked the fire. “My mind is stewing over things I can’t control.”

Hannah hung the towel on a hook near the oven to dry. “I know. I’m trying to keep busy so I don’t worry about Nolan and his mother.” She swooped in to take the kettle from Edna. “Let me do that. You sit and put your feet up for a few minutes.”

Edna nodded, and with a long sigh, pulled out a chair at the table.

A wave of sympathy hit Hannah as she watched the older woman sag onto her seat. Nolan might be losing his mother, but Edna was losing her best friend. Elizabeth Price had touched many lives during her time here.

“Would you like me to help you upstairs?” Hannah asked softly. “To see Mrs. Price?”

Edna pulled a square of cotton from her pocket and dabbed her moist eyes. “You’re a good child. Always thinking of everyone else.” She patted Hannah’s arm. “I’d like that very much.”

Hannah moved to take the kettle off the heat. “We’ll have our tea later.”

The older woman leaned heavily on Hannah as the pair climbed the back staircase with slow and steady steps. On the second level, they stopped for a rest.

Edna mopped her brow with the handkerchief. “These old knees can’t take the stairs anymore.” She huffed and puffed for a few minutes until she motioned for Hannah to help her continue. “Good thing my quarters are off the kitchen. I’d never make it to bed at night.”

As they ascended, Hannah strained her ears for any approaching footsteps, hoping she might see Nolan on his way down. When they finally made it to the top story, Hannah led Edna to a bench before tackling the long hallway.

“You rest here a moment. I’ll go and see if Mrs. Price is alone.”

Edna nodded and waved her off, still struggling for air. As Hannah made her way down the long corridor, her shoes made little noise on the carpeted floor. She paused outside Elizabeth’s door, listening for any voices inside. All appeared quiet. She’d raised her fist to knock when the door burst open before her.

Nolan stopped short of barreling into her. He said not a word, but stared wide-eyed, like someone who’d just received a terrible shock.

Hannah’s hand flew to her throat. Surely his mother hadn’t passed away? “Nolan. What’s happened?”

He blinked and focused on her, as if suddenly realizing her presence. His hands curled into fists at his side. The veins stood out in his neck.

Hannah recoiled as comprehension seeped through her. He wasn’t sad—he was filled with rage.

In all the years she’d known him, Hannah had never seen Nolan in such a state.

He didn’t answer her, merely shook his head and pushed by her, boots pounding the floor in his haste.

Hannah bit down on her bottom lip to keep from calling after him. What could possibly have made him so angry?

She turned back to the door of the bedroom and peered inside. Mrs. Price held a fist to her mouth, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. She didn’t even notice Hannah in the doorway.

For a moment, Hannah wavered on what to do. Then with grim determination, she headed back to where she’d left Edna. If anyone could comfort the distraught woman, it would be her best friend.

Hours later, Hannah slipped through the silent night, across the damp grass that separated the barn from the main house. The light of her lantern bobbed with each step until she reached the stable entrance. Once inside, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim interior and to make sure no one lurked in the darkness. The powerful scent of manure and hay filled her nostrils.

Her heart beat hard against her ribs. Whether Nolan realized it or not, he needed her, and if he wouldn’t come to her, she had no choice but to seek him out.

On noiseless feet, she moved toward Nolan’s quarters at the back of the stable. A thin beam of light shone under the crack in his door. Hannah hung her lantern on a nail by the last stall and pressed a palm to her stomach to squelch the butterflies fluttering there.

Please, Lord, let Nolan allow me to help him through this troubled time. Give me words of wisdom to comfort him and ease his pain.

After one more deep breath, she knocked lightly on his door.

“Go away, Mickey. I’m in no mood to talk.” Nolan’s deep voice pierced the silence of the barn.

Hannah licked her dry lips. With determination, she rapped again.

Footsteps clattered across the floor and the door flung open.

“I told you—” Nolan stopped dead, his mouth agape. He wore trousers and an unbuttoned shirt, suspenders hanging loosely at his sides. His eyes brightened for a brief second, replaced almost instantly with a deep frown. “Hannah. You shouldn’t be here. ’Tisn’t proper.”

Proper or not, Hannah refused to be deterred. But she averted her gaze from his hastily donned shirt, still open at the chest, and brushed by him into the small room. A candle flickered wildly on its stand. Wrinkled blankets on the cot told her Nolan had been lying there moments ago. “I need to speak with you.”

Nolan raked a hand through his tousled hair, releasing dark curls that sprang across his forehead. “It’s too great a risk. If anyone sees you in here, your reputation will be ruined.”

“This is too important to worry about such trivialities.” She crossed her arms and waited.

Nolan blew out an exasperated breath, then grabbed his worn jacket from a hook. “If you must talk, we’ll do it outdoors where it won’t be as scandalous to be discovered.” He eyed the bed with a meaningful glare.

Hannah was grateful for the faint light to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Very well.”

Nolan took her by the hand and led her out the back door. “We can sit out here.”

The moonlight provided enough illumination to see each other clearly as they took a seat on the rough wooden bench. Hannah pulled her shawl more firmly around her shoulders. In the spring chill, goosebumps rose on her arms.

“Now, tell me what’s so important that you came out in the middle of the night? It’s not more news about Molly, is it?”

The gentleness of Nolan’s tone brought a lump to her throat. He thought she had some problem of her own—not even considering that his pain would keep her awake.

“I’m worried about you. Something is wrong—more than your mother’s illness, I mean. Won’t you tell me what it is?”

His eyes turned dark. His mouth tightened into a grim line.

Fearing he would turn her away, she forged on. “Nolan, if we are to share a future, you must learn to trust me. To confide in me when you have a problem. Wouldn’t you want me to do the same?”

A blast of air escaped him. “Yes, of course I want to share your troubles.”

“Then allow me to do the same for you.” She laid a tentative hand on the sleeve of his thin jacket. Even through the material, the heat of his skin warmed her palm.

He hesitated for a moment as though weighing his options. “If I tell you, you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. Not even Edna.”

“I swear it.” Hannah kept no secrets from Edna, but for Nolan she would.

He grasped one of her hands in his. The rough calluses on his thumb caressed her skin like a kiss. “My mother gave me some distressing news. I haven’t even had time to determine the meaning of it yet.” He paused to look directly into her eyes and lowered his voice. “She told me that Lord Stainsby is my father.”

Hannah’s free hand flew to her mouth, but it couldn’t hide her gasp. “Oh, Nolan. How is that possible?” Tears welled as she tried to grasp the enormity of what he was telling her. No wonder he’d been so distraught. “Surely he hasn’t known all along, has he?”

“No. Apparently he’s as shocked and angry as I am.” Nolan leaned his arms on his knees, head bent.

“Why would your mother keep this secret so long?”

He sighed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. Perhaps she’d planned to tell him someday, but kept putting it off—until the illness forced her hand.” He got to his feet and paced in front of the bench. “I’ve always longed to know the identity of my father, but I never dreamed . . .”

“That you were the illegitimate son of a nobleman?” Hannah asked softly.

His head jerked up. “I’m not illegitimate, Hannah. I don’t know all the details, but I do know that my parents eloped before I was born.”

Nolan was the legitimate son of an earl?

Hannah’s heart seized as the terrible truth seeped into her consciousness. Their plan to marry had long been an understanding between them, but now her vision for the future evaporated, much like the filmy mist that hung over the fields would dissipate in the morning light.

She pushed to her feet, tears blooming beneath her lids. Lord Stainsby would never allow his son to marry a mere kitchen maid. Not if Nolan was proclaimed the Fairchild heir.

Nolan jumped to her side, concern creasing his brow. “The news is shocking, but it’s not as bad as all that.” He pulled her into his arms and laid his chin on her head.

For a moment, she allowed the warmth of his body to ease her trembling. She clung to him as though she’d never let go and breathed in the outdoor scent of him—horse and hay and lye soap.

Oh, God, how could she bear to lose him? A sob hiccupped through her body.

Nolan kissed her forehead and pulled her gently away from him. “Is it so terrible to love the son of an earl?”

His amused tone meant to tease, but she was in no state of mind for jests.

“You do love me, don’t you, Hannah?” The vulnerability in his eyes tore at her.

“Aye. More than anything.”

Relief spilled over his features. “Then you’ve nothing to worry about. Because I love you even more.”

He bent his head toward her, but she pressed a hand to his chest. “Don’t you see, Nolan? His lordship will never allow us to be together. If he claims you as his heir, which I’m certain he must, you’ll be expected to marry within your rank.” Her voice faltered. “The son of an earl could never marry a servant.”

Nolan’s features darkened and his dark brows drew together. He gripped her arms with bands of steel. “I don’t care what the earl says. I love you, Hannah, and I intend to marry you. Nothing will change that. Trust me.”

Oh, how she longed to believe those beautiful words. Two large tears escaped her lashes to trickle down her cheek.

“If I cannot make him understand, then we will leave this place. I will not lose you, Hannah.”

He pulled her to him, and his mouth captured hers in a storm of passion.

Her heart sprinted like a rabbit racing over the meadows. How bittersweet that he’d found the courage to kiss her at last—now that he would surely have to leave her. With a low moan, she wrapped her arms around him, relishing the taste of his lips, the strength of his arms, the scent of his skin. In a reaction born of sheer desperation, she returned his kisses, measure for measure.

Tonight she would accept as much of his love as he gave, for tomorrow everything would change.