Rules of Attraction (38 page)

Hannah stared mutely back.

Dougald recognized fear when he saw it. His darling was paralyzed, afraid to be once more rejected by the people she most needed to embrace her. He could take credit for at least a little of her apprehension, so he would correct matters. With a bow, he said, "If I might add— Miss Setterington is Miss Carola Tomlinson's daughter."

Mrs. Burroughs shook with a violent tremor, then stepped closer to Hannah and gazed up into her face. "It
is
you. I knew it was. I see my boy in your face." She wrapped her arms around her much taller granddaughter. "Oh, my cherished girl, welcome home."

For one more moment, Hannah stood still. She met Dougald's gaze with her own wide, shocked gaze. Then with a choked laugh, she said, "Thank you. Thank you."

Tall, white-haired, dignified, Mr. Burroughs enfolded them both in his embrace.

Dougald and Aunt Spring watched for a moment, then Aunt Spring plucked at Dougald's coat sleeve. "The Burroughses certainly seem taken with Miss Setterington."

"They certainly do." Dougald waited. Aunt Spring might be vague about some things, but when it came to people, Dougald had come to realize she was shrewd to the bone.

"You said she's Miss Carola Tomlinson's daughter," Aunt Spring said.

"That's right."

"I seem to remember that was the name of the young lady who was involved with their son."

"Yes."

"How lovely." Aunt Spring watched the reunion with hands clasped before her heart. "Wait until I tell the girls." She hurried off, back toward the group surrounding Her Majesty.

The little scene attracted some gaping attention from the neighbors, so after the first few, emotional moments, Mr. Burroughs withdrew from the embrace. Directing a piercing glance toward Dougald, he said, "You have our appreciation for the packet of letters you sent. Not that we needed proof of Hannah's heritage. She has my height and resembles our son in a startling manner."

"You sent the letters to them?" Hannah still had her arms around her grandmother, but the smile she sent Dougald left him in no doubt of her gratitude.

It left Mr. Burroughs in no doubt, either, for in a gruff voice, he said, "You will wish to return to your guests. Our granddaughter will show us this famous tapestry everyone's talking about."

Dougald recognized the banishment. With a lift of the brows, he checked with Hannah, and at her nod, he bowed, excused himself, and went back to speak with Lord Kerrich and Viscount Ruskin. He liked them. The two men showed remarkable good sense in their dealings with their wives who, from what Dougald could tell, were just as quick-witted and clever as Hannah. Only men of their exceptional character could manage women like these.

Hannah watched Dougald walk away then, proud and awkward, she gestured into the great hall. "The Queen's tapestry is here." She walked with her grandparents toward the long wall where it was displayed.

"It's beautiful!" Mrs. Burroughs exclaimed.

Mr. Burroughs blinked in amazement. "Good God, I always thought Spring and her coven were nothing but mad old women, except for that Miss Minnie, and I thought she was mad
and
cantankerous. But I see they were actually sewing something in their upstairs den."

Hannah stiffened. Slowly, she rotated to face Mr. Burroughs, and in her most frigid tone, she said, "Sir, I would not allow anyone to make rude statements about you, and you are only my grandfather. Aunt Spring and her companions have, for no reason other than kindness, taken me to their bosoms, and I will not allow anyone to disparage them within my hearing."

"Well… well…" Mr. Burroughs sputtered. "Young lady, you… you…"

Mrs. Burroughs stepped up beside Hannah. "She's a proper young lady with admirable sentiments, Harold, and you know it. What are you going to do about it?"

Mr. Burroughs glared at his wife.

She glared back.

He looked at both of them. "I see a resemblance between you two, also, Alice." He bowed with the upright posture of a general. "I beg your pardon, Hannah. I should never have been so blunt."

"Rude," Hannah corrected.

"Harold, you
were
rude," Mrs. Burroughs insisted.

"Yes. Rude. Beg pardon." He bowed again. "Won't do it again."

"I'm sure you won't," Hannah answered. "I appreciate that."

Mrs. Burroughs hugged Hannah's arm in hers. "You and Harold are just alike! I can't wait to hear the fights you two will have."

Aunt Ethel drifted by. "Good to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Burroughs." With a significant glance at Mr. Burroughs, she said, "The Queen likes her tapestry." She drifted away, but not too far.

"Not mad, eh?" Mr. Burroughs asked the ether.

"Perceptive would be a better word." Hannah changed the subject. "Perhaps you might like a glass of champagne after your journey?"

"Yes, I would. Thank you, dear." Mrs. Burroughs smiled.

"Champagne. Pah!" Mr. Burroughs's mustache quivered with disdain. "Silly stuff. Don't know why anyone would want bubbles in their wine. Give me a good English ale every time."

Hannah led them toward the table of refreshments. "An ale for Mr. Burroughs," she instructed the footman, and handed Mrs. Burroughs a glass of champagne.

Seaton bounded up, a smile curling his lips. He bowed to the Burroughses, then clasped Hannah's hand. "Thank you for the introduction. Her Majesty was most gracious, and she admired my ensemble most emphatically. Thank you, Miss Setterington. Thank you, thank you."

Hannah smiled her first real smile for the day. "You are indeed welcome, Seaton."

He bounded away again, alive with the pleasure of the day.

The crowd had ebbed around the refreshment table, but Hannah suspected Mr. Burroughs would have spoken regardless of their audience. He seemed a man unimpressed by subtlety.

He said, "Hannah, I know you're wondering why we have ignored you all these years."

"Not at all," Hannah said politely.
All the time.

"Nonsense. Of course you wonder. You're our granddaughter."

Which meant she should answer honestly, or at least for as long as it suited him. "Yes, sir, I have wondered."

"When we got the packet of letters from Lord Raeburn, we were surprised." He accepted the tankard from the footman.

Mrs. Burroughs hugged Hannah's arm again. "We had no idea that our dear boy wrote Miss Tomlinson after she left the district."

"Have you read those letters?" Mr. Burroughs asked.

"No, sir, I haven't had the pleasure." Although Hannah didn't know if it would truly be a pleasure, or the greatest agony of her life.

"According to the letters, Henry planned to come to your mother and marry her."

Hannah released a painfully held breath.

"But until we read his own words, we didn't suspect Miss Tomlinson was expecting a child." Mr. Burroughs stared at the brown foam on the top of his ale. "I thought I had stopped them before… well, obviously, I didn't. Wish the boy had told me. Thought he would get over his infatuation. Despondent. Drank too much. Died so suddenly." He took a drink, then glanced at his wife. Pulling a white ironed linen square out of his pocket, he said, "Alice, I
wish
you would remember to carry a handkerchief."

"Yes, dear." Mrs. Burroughs dabbed at her cheeks.

Mr. Burroughs stared Hannah in the eyes. "If we had known about you, we would have found you and your mother and brought you home at once."

Hannah looked right back at him. "Thank you, sir, for that." For announcing that they wanted her. For saying they would have taken her mother into their home, also.

Miss Minnie patted Hannah on the shoulder. "I see you've met our dear girl," she said to Mr. and Mrs. Burroughs. "She is the finest young woman of our acquaintance."

"Yes, of course she is." Mr. Burroughs glared at Miss Minnie. "She's our granddaughter."

Miss Minnie glared back at him. "No thanks to you!"

Placidly, Hannah moved to stand between them. "Miss Minnie, do you or any of the aunts need me?"

Miss Minnie transferred her scowl to Hannah, then her brow smoothed. "No, dear. Her Majesty is circulating through the neighbors, being so gracious and kind, and we thought we would stand near in case you needed us." With an innocent smile at Mr. Burroughs, she walked toward the other aunts.

"She wants to hear what we're saying," Mr. Burroughs said impatiently. "May I call them busybodies without incurring your wrath, Hannah?"

"No," Hannah answered. "I will not let them call you a crusty old top, either."

Mrs. Burroughs intervened. "That's fair."

Lifting his voice so that it carried to the aunts, Mr. Burroughs said, "As our granddaughter, you will of course move into our home with us."

"Oh, no!" Aunt Ethel exclaimed.

Hannah was startled. "What… why?"

"It's not decent for our granddaughter to be out in service."

Hannah tried to think of what to say. Mr. Burroughs obviously considered her career a disgrace. She didn't feel that way. The work she had done in the last years had taught her self-reliance, efficiency, and confidence.

In her soft, ladylike voice, Mrs. Burroughs said, "Besides, Hannah, you are unmarried. You shouldn't be living under the roof of a bachelor. It's scandalous."

Now Hannah was truly disconcerted. She had thought only of the time she would meet her grandparents. She never considered having to explain the events of her life to them.

However, Mr. Burroughs seemed to find nothing unusual in her silence. In a brusque gesture of affection, he hugged her shoulders, then released her. "So you will remove with us at once."

Mrs. Burroughs took Hannah's hand and patted it. "Yes, granddaughter, you don't have to make your own way in the world anymore."

For the first time, Hannah comprehended the pressures her father faced. If he loved his parents, as he undoubtedly did, he would have been torn between that love and his love for her mother. And while Hannah despised the choice he had made, she well understood the contest between the love of a woman and the concern of family. "I'm afraid it's not possible for me to go and live with you. Someone needs to be here to care for the aunts, and… there are other factors."

"I didn't want to tell you this. It will upset your delicate constitution." Her grandfather frowned and combed his mustache with his fingers. "But that fellow, that new Lord Raeburn— he's not a good influence." Mr. Burroughs's voice boomed out. "I remember gossip about him when he was young. He's dissipated, he's from common stock, and they say he killed his wife."

Hannah realized how tired she was of hearing that when her temper snapped. "He didn't kill his wife."

"Now, Hannah"— Her grandmother gazed sweetly into her eyes. "You must trust your grandfather to know what's best. He always does. And you can't know that Lord Raeburn didn't kill his wife."

"Yes… I… can." Hannah enunciated clearly so her grandfather could hear. "I'm his wife."

Wide-eyed and with dropped jaws, the Burroughses stared at her.

Miss Minnie crowed.

The other aunts groaned.

Hannah drew herself up. "We've been married for almost ten years. He didn't kill me, I ran away. We've been very foolish, but we are reconciled now, and I will stay here at Raeburn Castle with him and start a family."

Her grandfather harrumphed. Harrumphed again.

Her grandmother's hands fluttered, then came to rest on Mr. Burroughs's arm.

Both of their gazes lifted from her face to a place just above her shoulder.

A hand came to rest on her waist. It was Dougald. She didn't have to turn to know it was he. She recognized his scent, his heat, his presence. She breathed with him. Her heart beat with his. They were truly one.

"Mr. Burroughs, it's too late for me to ask you for Hannah's hand in marriage, but I do promise I will honor her all of our days." Dougald's sincerity flowed like balm over Mr. Burroughs's offense and Mrs. Burroughs's distress. "I lost her once, and I will never do anything to lose her again. I love her."

"You do?" Hannah faced him. "You do?"

"What do you mean"— Dougald looked taken aback—"
you do
?"

"You've never said it."

"What do you think that was all about in the chapel yesterday?"

"It was lovely." She petted his cheek, admiring its high-boned structure and faint burr of whiskers. "I will cherish that memory forever."

"But you want the plain words." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "I love you, Hannah."

Whispering, Hannah confessed, "I love you, too."

"I suppose…" Mr. Burroughs was rumbling. "Damned shock… the whole day…"

"But good shocks," Mrs. Burroughs added to Mr. Burroughs's stammering.

"Yes. Good. Not every day one finds that one has a granddaughter, happily married—" his eyebrows bristled menacingly as he bent his gaze on Hannah— "you are happy?"

"Very much, sir."

He nodded. "And to the local earl. Boy, you have a gem here. Treat her well, or you'll have to answer to me."

The sudden onrush of tears startled Hannah and sent her searching for her handkerchief. She'd never, ever, not even in the early days of her marriage, had anyone to stand behind her. Now she had her grandparents, and they were everything she'd ever dreamed of.

Her grandmother saw her tears, and her own tears sprang forth. "Oh, my sweet girl!" She opened her arms, and they embraced spontaneously, weeping and laughing at the same time.

"Silly women." Mr. Burroughs's voice sounded a little raspier than normal. "Always crying about the most baffling things. Ladies, you're supposed to be happy!" He shook Dougald's hand.

"We are." Mrs. Burroughs used her lace handkerchief to mop her eyes. "See?" She beamed a smile at her irascible husband.

"Now I'm afraid you're going to have to excuse us." Dougald used his own handkerchief to blot Hannah's face. "Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, is asking to speak to my wife."

As she and Dougald walked away, Hannah reflected that the royal favor certainly wouldn't hurt her standing with her grandparents, and might indeed smooth familial relations between the Burroughs and her black sheep of a husband.