The Earl's Honorable Intentions (18 page)

If his abrupt, ungallant proposal had forced her to leave Edgecombe, it would be a failure for which he might never be able to forgive himself.

Chapter Fifteen

C
oming to London had been a fool’s errand. The dumbstruck look on Gavin’s face when he saw her and Peter left Hannah in no doubt of that.

The biggest risk she’d ever taken appeared likely to be her worst disaster. Having experienced the bitterness of failure, she should not have been so quick to condemn Gavin for his fear of it. Part of her wished she could return to the moment of her decision and make a safer choice.

With obvious effort, Gavin mastered his voice to answer his son’s question. “I am very surprised to see you in London. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

Clearly, he wanted to know why she had come here and brought his son. Hannah feared a hostile confrontation like the ones they’d had after his return from Waterloo and more recently when she had refused his proposal. What could she tell him? She scarcely recalled the reasons she’d given herself. Whatever they’d been, she now realized they were only excuses to see him again.

In reply to his father’s question, Peter gave a vigorous nod. “The road was bumpy in places, but there were lots of things to see. When I grow up I will come to London as often as I can. But I will ride my own horse—a big strong one.”

Rebecca strode forward and offered the child her hand. “I expect your long drive will have given you an appetite. Shall we visit the kitchen and ask Cook to make us some tea and sandwiches?”

Hannah knew her friend well enough to recognize an effort to give Gavin and her a few moments to talk in private. Though she dreaded it, she knew that postponing the confrontation would not make it any easier.

“Why don’t you come with us, Sebastian?” Rebecca beckoned her husband.

“What about Papa and Miss Hannah?” asked Peter as he took Rebecca’s hand.

“It might be better if they wait up here for us.” Rebecca led the child toward the servants’ stairs. “Cook gets cross if her kitchen is too crowded.”

As Peter and the Benedicts disappeared below stairs, Hannah heard her friend laugh merrily at some remark of the child’s. The butler had gone upstairs, perhaps to have rooms prepared for the unexpected guests. Gavin and Hannah stood in awkward silence for a moment. She considered suggesting they retire to the sitting room but decided it would be presumptuous of her as the most recently arrived guest. Instead she turned and headed back into the room, leaving the earl to follow or not as he wished.

The sound of his firm, quiet tread behind her sent her heart into a skittish jig. Hannah reminded herself not to let hurt or anger make her say things she would regret; rather, she must trust the Lord to show her the way.

“You did not need to drag my son all the way to London,” Gavin said as he closed the door behind them. “I was going home tomorrow anyway.”

The consciousness of her folly slammed Hannah hard. She should have waited patiently and faithfully for his return. That might have shown Gavin that she did not mean any of the hurtful things she’d said during their last encounter. Instead her actions proved she did not trust him to keep his word or do the right thing for his family. He would think she judged him as harshly as his father had.

She spun around to face him. “Then you have succeeded in your mission?”

She should have known he would and believed he would return to Edgecombe afterward just as he had promised. Hard as Hannah chided herself, she could not quench a stubborn ember of hope. If the situation with Bonaparte was resolved to his satisfaction, Gavin could come home to Edgecombe and his children. Freed from the burden of guilt, he could begin life anew, like a penitent who had embraced salvation.

Before that ember could catch, Gavin doused it with a resigned, regretful shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. My father was right—I have no skill in politics or diplomacy. I should have left that part of the fight to men like Sebastian who are better equipped to wage it.”

An overwhelming need to bolster his confidence propeled Hannah toward him, only to be stopped by the consciousness that she had forfeited any right to draw close to him. “I am sorry. It was a worthy undertaking, and I should never have suggested otherwise. You must not reproach yourself. No one could have cared more or tried harder. I am certain Major Molesworth would be satisfied of that.”

To her surprise, Gavin replied, “I believe he would. I am not certain I will ever be entirely free of the guilt I feel over his death, but nothing anyone can do to Bonaparte will bring back a single one of my fallen comrades. If I let my pursuit of him divert me from my children, it would be a victory I refuse to grant him.”

His rueful admission made Hannah’s throat tighten. Would he ever have come to that conclusion if she had forced him to stay at Edgecombe? Or might part of him have blamed his family responsibilities for preventing him from discharging this final duty?

“I did not come here because I doubted
you.
” Hannah forced herself to seek and hold his gaze. Though it risked betraying her feelings for him, she was determined to persuade Gavin of her sincerity. “I came because I was afraid I might have driven you away from Edgecombe and your children with my unkindness. I should never have said what I did. I should have believed you when you promised to return, only...”

She stopped herself from making any excuses for her behavior. “I understand if you would rather I not stay at Edgecombe. The children need their father far more than any governess, no matter how capable.”

It was not easy to say those words. Her throat grew tighter with each one as she thought of parting from Peter and the dear babies. Everything she had worked and schemed to accomplish—nursing Gavin back to health, forcing him to spend time with his children—had all served a selfish purpose, to keep them with her at any cost. Now she realized that, hard as it would be to lose them,
their
well-being and future happiness mattered far more.

If she expected some sign of relief from Gavin that she was making it easier for him to do what he must, Hannah was disappointed.

His face fell, just the way his little son’s did when some calamity occurred. “Do not leave us, I beg you!”

He reached out and grasped her hand. Prudence warned Hannah to pull away, but she could not. Besides, all her attention was concentrated on his words, which were quite the opposite of what she’d expected to hear.

“I know it is selfish of me to stand in the way of you finding a husband and starting a family of your own, but I am only asking for a little time, for the children’s sake. With your help, I believe I can be good father to them. But on my own...”

“Of course you can be a good father, with or without my help!” The words burst out of her with fierce conviction. “You
are
a good father. If I have said or done anything to suggest otherwise, I was wrong. If you and the children need me, of course I will stay. I only offered to go because I thought you must still be angry with me. And I was afraid you would find it too awkward having me in your household after...after...”

Hannah could not bring herself to say that he had made her an offer of marriage. It would sound too preposterous. Had she misunderstood him, perhaps, or only imagined it? Besides, if she spoke those words, Hannah feared her voice would betray her regret that she had not been able to give him a different answer.

“After I made a fool of myself,” Gavin growled.

Hannah sensed he was not angry with her but with himself. Once again, he was his own severest critic, as he had been trained from an early age.

The impulse to defend him from that harsh inner taskmaster overran all the barriers she’d erected around her heart to protect it. “You did nothing of the kind. Once I recovered from my surprise and had an opportunity to reflect on what you’d said, I realized it was quite heroic of you to be willing to take such measures for the sake of your children. I should have known it was a sign of how much you care for them, to sacrifice your chance of future happiness with a wife you could love.”

Gavin tried to interrupt at that point, but Hannah refused to let him get a word in. If she stopped now, she was afraid she might never find the courage to continue. “I should have been honored and touched that you would think me worthy to be a mother to those dear children. You have
nothing
to reproach yourself for. I only wish I could say the same for myself.”

She was forced to pause then for she had no more breath to continue. Like the trained warrior he was, Gavin did not hesitate to seize the initiative.

“Heroic?” he scoffed. “Sacrifice? I cannot let you think so much better of me than I deserve. The truth is, I took advantage of a noble excuse to do something I wanted to for purely selfish reasons. When you mentioned the captain who married your friend, I thought what a clever, fortunate man he was. I thought if I could persuade you to marry me for the children’s sake, it would give me all the time I needed to...win...your heart—as you have won mine.”

It was too plain and honest a declaration of his feelings for Hannah to misunderstand. Part of her wanted so desperately to believe it, even as old dark doubts insisted it could not be true. She had done nothing to win or keep Gavin Romney’s regard because she’d never thought she would
want
it. Instead she had misjudged him and browbeat him, defied and doubted him. How could he possibly care for her after all that?

And if he did, against all odds, how could she accept what the countess had longed for in vain?

* * *

Could he not succeed at anything? Gavin reproached himself as Hannah’s blue-gray eyes filled with tears. Her free hand rose to her lips in an abortive effort to contain the sobs that burst from her lips in response to his bald, clumsy declaration. He had been on the brink of salvaging his earlier mistake and securing Hannah’s presence at Edgecombe for a while at least. Then he’d sabotaged his efforts by blurting out his unwelcome feelings.

“Forgive me!” He groped in his pocket and produced a handkerchief, which he offered her in a gesture of remorse. “I know it is far too soon to be proper, and you had such a poor opinion of me for so long. I do not want to burden you with obligations or expectations. But I am no good at concealing my feelings or pretending they are anything different.”

Hannah was weeping too hard to speak, but she shook her head. Was she trying to tell him to stop because the subject was so distressing?

Just when his sense of failure threatened to overwhelm him, Gavin remembered the only other time he had witnessed Hannah give way to tears. When she had been distressed, telling him about that abominable school, her sister’s death and her father sending her away, she had somehow managed to keep her composure. Only in a moment of intense happiness, when she’d been reunited with her dear friend after a separation of many years, had her restraint given way to open weeping. Was it too much to hope that the tears she was shedding now might be a sign of happiness rather than anguish?

“Come sit down.” He helped her toward the sofa. “We can talk more when you are calmer.”

Her tears had already begun to ease. When they sank onto the sofa, she did not protest his nearness. That emboldened Gavin to slip his arm around her shoulders. Hannah did not object to that either.

“I c-cannot think what c-came over me,” she said at last. “I have soaked your poor handkerchief, and I must look a fright.”

“Not to me,” Gavin replied, his own voice husky with unaccustomed emotion. “Would I be presuming too much to hope you might return my feelings someday?”

For an instant, a look of fear came over Hannah. But she seemed to wage a quiet battle within herself and emerge victorious. “Not at all. It is I who should not presume that a man like you could care anything for me. Especially after the rude way I refused you and the terrible things I said. It is a wonder you want anything to do with me after that.”

She looked away as if ashamed. Gavin could not allow that, for there was something he must tell her, and he needed her complete attention.

With the sort of gentle touch he might have used to caress the babies, he brought the knuckle of his forefinger to rest beneath her chin and nudged her to look directly at him. “You do not need to be perfect for the right person to love you. They will always see the best in you, regardless. Like that bit of the Bible you quoted to me, about sheep going astray.”

For a moment he thought Hannah might cry again, but she collected her composure. “Do you still believe all those things you said about the Lord setting impossible standards and judging our failures?”

Gavin shook his head with a rueful grin. “I’m not certain I did even then. Getting to know my children, learning to be a proper father, has made me better able to understand the kind of love that can forgive anything and never fail.”

Now it was his turn to fight down a lump in his throat. Suddenly the idea of joyful tears was not nearly so mystifying.

Hannah took advantage of his silence to speak. “If I did not care for you, I would have accepted your proposal without a qualm for the sake of the children. But I was afraid, selfishly afraid, that I would become another unhappy countess, wanting more from you than you could give me.”

On the verge of the greatest happiness he could imagine, Gavin had never been more conscious of his unworthiness. “Poor Clarissa. I wish I could have made her happy. Perhaps if I’d tried harder...”

Hannah shook her head. “There are some things that all the effort in the world cannot change. I see that now. The past is one of those things. I have carried mine with me for far too long, like a heavy work basket. I put so much energy into guilt and regret, yet they could not change a single moment of my past. All they did was spoil the present and threaten my future.”

Her advice made excellent sense to Gavin, especially since he knew what it had cost her to learn those hard lessons.

“If God can forgive us,” Hannah continued in a soft, musing tone, “who are we to deny
ourselves
forgiveness?”

“You are right, of course. But some truths are easier to believe here—” Gavin touched his forefinger to his temple “—than here.” He tapped his chest. “But if you were there to remind me of it often enough, perhaps it would sink in at last.”