The Seduction of an Earl (16 page)

Hannah blinked, thinking the combination seemed a bit off, but she didn’t offer her opinion. Perhaps the meal was her husband’s favorite. Perhaps the lobster patties would be better than those served at
ton
balls. “Thank you, Mrs. Chambers,” she said with a nod. “Carry on.”

The cook’s eyes widened. “You mean,” she paused, her eyes darting to the left and right. “I’m not to pack up and leave?”

Glancing back at Mrs. Chambers, Hannah shook her head. “No, of course not, Mrs. Chambers. Good day,” she said as she stepped out the same door Harold had disappeared through moments before.

So, when Henry asked Hannah if she knew what they were having for dinner that night, Hannah sat up and proudly recited that night’s menu. “Onion soup, lobster patties, aspic, pot roast, potatoes, carrots, turnips, dinner rolls, apple tarts and walnuts with coffee.”

Henry’s eyes widened at her list. From her recitation, she had obviously memorized it, but he knew she wouldn’t have been the one to combine such disparate dishes together in a single meal. “Oh! My favorite,” he said, a look of appreciation appearing on his face.

Hannah could not hide the surprise she felt at hearing his words. “My lord?” she countered, stunned he would think the meal worthy of being his favorite.

But a footman came from the kitchen and placed a note next to Henry’s plate. She watched as Henry lifted and read the missive, his face taking on a look of worry.

“Is anything wrong?” Hannah wondered, seeing his brows furrow.

Henry glanced up. “One of the men digging the east trench has been injured. The foremen has taken a horse to fetch the physician from Bampton. I should get back there,” he said as he stood up. “Please forgive me, my lady. I will see you ...” He paused to consider just when he would next see his wife. “At dinner,” he decided as he gave her a bow and left through the door to the kitchen.

Hannah watched as her husband departed, feeling as if the air left with him. It was at that moment that Hannah realized Henry Forster was truly a unique member of the
ton
. The man would probably never claim his seat in Parliament – he would always be too busy working his estate. And men who were busy with their lands had less time for leisure pursuits, like drinking and gambling and whor ...

The last word of that thought was quickly squelched before she could think it. The only woman her husband would bed besides her was Sarah.

A small smile of appreciation lit Hannah’s face.
I’m married to a working gentleman!

Chapter 12

Hannah Meets Sarah and Nathan

Hannah walked with purpose but was still a bit uncertain about her intent. She only wanted to meet Sarah. She wanted to put a face with a name, and, should the mistress seem the least bit, well, likable, she thought to appear as approachable as possible and offer her friendship. Although she was a countess and Sarah was apparently a low born commoner, Hannah wished desperately for them to be friends. They had Henry in common, after all.

She slowed her step to regard the dowager house on the edge of the Gisborn property. If she continued past the flagstone path that led to the front door, she would be on the main road to the earldom’s village, its collection of cottages and businesses clustered almost another half-mile down the lane.

The stone house, which featured well-maintained shutters on all its windows and a newly painted front door, was smaller than Hannah would have imagined given Henry’s mistress and son lived there. She regarded the cut stones that made up the exterior walls. They had no doubt been dug up from the nearby fields when they’d been converted to farms. There was a stately elegance to their arrangement, although their shades of gray made for a somber backdrop. The darker gray shutters did little to liven the look, but the front door’s cheerful yellow paint and a cluster of brightly colored flowers near the single front step proved welcoming. For a cottage that was to have housed the earl’s mother, it was passable. At some point in the future, that earl’s mother would be her, Hannah realized in surprise.

Walking up the flagstone path to the door, Hannah took a deep breath and knocked three times. She carried two baskets of fresh-baked scones and loaves of bread from Gisborn Hall’s kitchen, the cook having been goaded into the show of hospitality by Mrs. Batey the day before. Apparently, the cook had little regard for Sarah, although she seemed to accept Nathan without question. Hannah wondered at the disparity. Sarah had borne Henry a son nearly ten years before; why would Mrs. Chambers begrudge the woman some baked goods? She set one of the baskets down on the stoop, intending the contents to go to some elderly ladies she would visit in the village after she concluded her call on Sarah.

The door opened slowly as a woman, who looked to be about thirty, peered around the opened edge. “Yes?” she let out, her voice a bit apprehensive at the sight of the pink-clad female who stood at her door with a covered basket and a tentative grin on her face. Hannah nodded, thinking the butler must have the day off. “Lady Hannah ...
Gisborn
to see Miss Inglenook,” she quickly corrected herself, not having much practice in using her new name. She wondered if the woman at the door was a maid or the housekeeper. The house didn’t not seem large enough to accommodate more than a few people. She held out her calling card, realizing too late she hadn’t had new ones printed with her correct name and title. “I am Hannah ... Forster,” she offered, hoping her face wasn’t displaying her sudden nervousness.

Sarah Inglenook stared at the young woman who stood on her doorstep.
This is Henry’s wife.
So, the rumors were true. That Henry had returned from his trip to London with a countess on his arm. Well, she was lovely. Fair in coloring, with blonde hair that fairy tales described as flaxen. Young and glowing and ... quite the most ridiculous thing she’d seen in the way of a woman in some time.

A rather large dog had seated itself just below the front step. Large brown eyes stared at her as if she might do harm to the young woman, but its overall expression was one of comical boredom. Sarah wondered for only a second if she should be fearful of the Alpenmastiff, but quickly decided the beastie meant no harm. “Sarah Inglenook,” she finally replied, her oval face splitting into a grin as she curtsied. Laugh lines crinkled near the corners of her eyes, and her green eyes seem to be lit from within.

“Oh!” her visitor replied, stunned that the woman before her wasn’t a servant. Sarah was dressed in a serviceable muslin day gown, her golden brown hair wound into a simple knot on the back of her head. Although she was of an age to wear a mobcap, she chose instead to leave her head uncovered when she was indoors.

Sarah stepped back to allow the visitor into her home. The countess seemed friendly enough, but if the woman should find out about her and Henry ... or had Henry told the woman about her? And about the son they shared? She would have to guard her every word until she learned how much the young lady knew.

“You have a beautiful home,” Hannah said as she moved into the front room. Obviously set up as a parlor, the furnishings and draperies seemed new, as if the house had undergone a recent remodel. If she noticed Sarah’s lack of a curtsy, she did not show it in her expression nor in her bearing. “Have you lived here long?”

Sarah regarded the countess for several seconds before taking a deep breath. “Almost two years,” she finally got out. “Oh, where are my manners? Please, have a seat, won’t you?” Again, she allowed a tentative smile, not sure if Henry or any of his servants might have told the new countess about her.
They must have, though, for why else would Henry’s new wife pay me a call?

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’ve never lived at Gisborn Hall?” she wondered, surprised that Henry wouldn’t have insisted on having his son and his lover living with him.

Her eyes widening a bit, Sarah swallowed. “No, of course not,” she replied, stunned at the comment. As she wrung her hands together at her waist, Sarah regarded Hannah carefully.
She knows.
“I would not expect the earl to provide hospitality at his house,” she explained, waving Hannah to a settee in the middle of the room. “Would you like tea?” she asked, suddenly nervous. She found herself hoping Hannah would decline the invitation and take her leave of the cottage. Then she could find Henry and determine what he had told his new countess.

“That would be lovely,” Hannah said with a smile. “I hoped we might have the opportunity to get to know one another,” she said brightly. “I realize most women would probably cringe at the thought of meeting their husband’s mistress, but I have to admit, I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance ever since Henry told me about you.”

Already on her way to the kitchen, Sarah spun around, her mouth open in surprise at Hannah’s comment.
Mistress?
She expected to find the woman glaring at her, expected her eyes to be daggers, her manner to suggest Sarah would be cast out of the dowager house at first light. But her visitor appeared quite sedate as she lowered her covered basket to the floor and took a seat. “He is quite in love with you,” Hannah added, wondering why her hostess would stare at her so. “Of course, you must already know that,” she added with a knowing grin and a wave of her hand.

Sarah stared back, the words still making their way into her addled brain. Had the countess just claimed Henry
loved
her? And had she really said it as if it ... as if it made her
happy
? “I wasn’t aware he felt ... such affection for me, my lady,” she countered, having decided long ago that his repeated requests for her hand in marriage were not claims of love but were instead desperate attempts to secure her as a wife so he wouldn’t have to search for one during a Season in London. She wondered at what kind of event he’d found the chit that was taking a seat in her parlor. A ball, perhaps? Or a rout?
Not a rout,
she decided. Henry wouldn’t even attend such an affair, and she rather doubted the delicate looking thing before her would, either. She pointed toward the kitchen. “I’ll just be a moment,” she added as she disappeared into the other room.

Sarah’s heart beat in a staccato she was sure was visible through her plain gown.
Henry’s wife was in her parlor
! Henry’s beautiful embodiment of a fairy tale princess wife was sitting on her settee!
What was she doing here?
Sarah calmed herself with a slow inhalation of breath as she set up the tea service she used when Henry called on her. Thank goodness she kept it at the ready – she did not want the countess left alone in her parlor for longer than was necessary, or the woman might discover the hole in the upholstery of the wing back chair where Nathan had stabbed a small knife, or the place in the Aubusson carpet where his muddied shoe had left a stain the year before. “How do you take your tea, my lady?” she asked when she returned to the parlor with the tea service. She placed it on the low table in front of the settee and took the chair opposite from Hannah.

“Oh, you must call me Hannah,” her visitor insisted as she leaned forward. “I do not want there to be any formality between us,” Hannah added. She lifted the basket. “I had Cook make some scones and bread. I daresay she makes the very best scones,” she added as she held out the basket toward her hostess.

Sarah took the proffered basket, the expression on her face one of surprise. “Thank you, my lady,” she said in awe, realizing from the weight that the basket probably held enough baked goods to see her and Nathan through a week or more. Probably much more.

“Hannah,” her visitor said by way of correcting her. “May I call you Sarah?” she wondered then, her head tilted in such a way as to suggest she really hoped they could be friends.

Sarah swallowed, surprised at Hannah’s friendly nature but suddenly suspicious of the gift she bore. Were the baked goods poisoned? Mrs. Chambers had never much cared for her. If the cook knew the baked goods were for her, she might have made them with too much salt or ...

“I told Mrs. Chambers I was going to make some calls in the village,” Hannah offered, once she realized Sarah wasn’t going to answer her question. “Mrs. Batey made a list of several households that require a bit of charity, so I will visit those later – perhaps a couple of them today.” She didn’t add that there was another basket of bread out on the stoop, covered with a cloth, and under Harold’s protection. She hoped Harold hadn’t suddenly developed a taste for bread.

“Oh, of course,” Sarah replied, realizing the bread and scones were probably just fine. She took a deep breath. “So, the earl ... told you about me?” she ventured, still expecting a fit of jealous rage to replace the rather calm façade the countess was displaying.

Hannah dipped her head. “He did, indeed. The very first day he called on me, in fact,” she said as she remembered their ride in Hyde Park.

Sarah poured a cup of tea as she struggled to keep her face impassive. “Milk? Sugar?” she wondered, glancing over the tea tray to be sure she had all the pieces in the proper place.

“Yes to both,” Hannah replied with a smile. “I really wish you would consider moving into Gisborn Hall,” she said with a sigh, noting there were no servants present. “There are plenty of bedchambers, and although there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of a household staff, I’m sure we can find someone to see to your needs. And to Nathan,” she added, wondering if Sarah would even consider the arrangement given she’d probably lived in the dowager house since Henry inherited the earldom. “Is he here? I would so like to meet him.”

Pouring a cup of tea for herself, Sarah shook her head. “I quite like having my own household,” she replied gently, “Especially since Nathan will never inherit Gisborn’s property.” This last was said with a hint of regret, as if she had just then realized that by not marrying Henry Forster, she had relegated the boy to life as a bastard. “The boy is with his tutor now. In the village,” she explained, in answer to Hannah’s other query. “Gisborn is quite adamant that he be ready for Abingdon School. He’ll start there in the fall. It’s close enough that Nathan can come home for the weekends, but he’ll board during the weeks. It’s a good thing it’s still another five months away. I know it will be harder on me than on him when he leaves,” she said, stopping suddenly when she realized she was prattling. Dipping her head, she added a lump of sugar to her tea and stirred it quietly.

Hannah sipped her own tea. “I think it’s so romantic that you and Gisborn have known one another since childhood and would remain a devoted couple even now,” she commented, wondering why Sarah would seem so nervous in her own home.
Shouldn’t I be the nervous one?

Nearly spilling the cup of tea she held, Sarah stared at Hannah. “Romantic?” she repeated, not intending to sound surprised by the word. But never in the years Henry Forster had insisted on providing protection for her and her son could Sarah claim
romance
was involved. “I think ... perhaps I need to ...” She stopped, not sure what to say. The countess had obviously jumped to conclusions about Sarah’s relationship with Henry, but those conclusions must have been based on what Henry had told Hannah.
Just how did the earl describe his relationship with me?
“Oh, dear.” Sarah realized she had better set the countess straight on a few details while she had her alone.

Hannah waited for a moment while Sarah seemed to have a discussion with herself. She wondered then if  her visit was a mistake. She was beginning to think she should have allowed Henry to make the introductions, to help smooth things over between the two women. But since she felt no jealousy, nor any animosity toward the mistress, Hannah thought it only proper
she
make the first move. “I have always believed that a man only ever loves his mistress, and that he only marries so that he might have a mother for his children,” she stated, the mantra something she was quite sure was true. She’d spoken the words often enough, sometimes to nods of agreement while other times to slightly shocked ladies who found the word ‘mistress’ to be an especially foul word.

Sarah stared at her as if she was one of those who found the word ‘mistress’ especially foul.
Oh, dear. She hasn’t considered herself in that light
, Hannah realized as she regarded the mother of Henry’s son.

“Well, I can tell you’ve spent a good deal of your life in London,” Sarah said finally, a smile appearing along with a blush. She’d heard the ladies of the
ton
could be quite glib about the men in their lives, but to hear one announce her total and complete acceptance of a mistress in her husband’s life left her stunned in an amused sort of way. “I ... I don’t know what to say,” she finally admitted. “Except that ...” She leaned forward, her back quite rigid. “I have no intention of ever living under the same roof as Henry Forster. I have never considered myself his
mistress
. Nor do I expect to do so now that Henry has married,” she announced with a firm shake of her head. She was still smiling, although it was more out of nervousness than of joy at having learned that Henry had finally married.

Hannah regarded her hostess, her face taking on the pink blush that showed her embarrassment. She struggled for a better word to use. “Paramour, perhaps?” she ventured carefully.

Sarah’s eyes widened, but her shoulders sunk a bit. Taking a sip of tea, she fought the tears that threatened in the corners of her eyes. “Perhaps,” she agreed, holding onto her teacup as if her very life depended on it. “But I must inform you, Lady Gisborn ...”

“Hannah, please,” her guest insisted as she straightened.

Could a woman look any more lovely than the fairy princess who sat across from her?
Sarah wondered, seeing Hannah in a new light. Her pale blonde hair had been braided and wound into an elaborate coronet on top of her head, and tendrils of hair curled into ringlets next to her ears and down the back of her neck. The pelisse she wore ..
oh, good God, I should have asked her if she wanted to remove it
, Sarah realized suddenly. The parlor was warm enough. But she’d had no intention of welcoming the countess into her home. She expected whoever married Henry would despise her and require Henry keep hidden his bastard son. “But, you’re a
countess
,” Sarah spoke, saying the words as if the title prevented them from being friends.

Hannah cocked an eyebrow. “And you could have been,” she countered with a shrug of one shoulder. “So ... we’re even.”

Sarah blinked once, twice. And then she settled back into her chair, stunned at Hannah’s simple rejoinder. Of course, Lady Gisborn was correct. If she had ever simply accepted Henry’s suit, she could be Lady Gisborn. She allowed a tentative smile.

But then she’d have to be
married
to Henry Forster. The smile disappeared.

If she was married to Henry Forster, she would have to tolerate his heavy-handed manner, his humorless demeanor, his controlling personality. The man was so good in so many ways, but she had no desire to
live
with him. And lately, she had no desire to share his bed, either. He was handsome. Too handsome. She’d had difficulty spurning his occasional desire to bed her, finally succumbing to his soft words and gentle touches. And that was the problem. Henry knew exactly where to touch her, exactly what to do to get her to agree to his wishes. But she had been quite insistent on just how he would take his pleasure, making sure he did so as quickly as possible so that he might be out of her bed and on his way back to Gisborn Hall. She never allowed him to spend the night in her bedchamber. And for those occasions when Henry insisted she and Nathan spend the night in Gisborn Hall, she spent them in his bed. She was quick to take her leave very early the following morning, not wishing to stay for a cup of chocolate, much less breakfast.

Now that Henry was finally married, and to a beautiful woman, Sarah had hope for her own future. Now, another man could ask for her hand, a man who would offer protection and a different home several miles away. He would give her the respectability she so craved. And perhaps children. She’d always wanted more children.

She was nearly thirty. Being Henry Forster’s woman, or
mistress
, as the countess had just described her, was no longer acceptable. She longed for a life as a wife and mother to legitimate children. “I have looked forward to Henry taking a wife for several years, Hannah. You cannot know how happy it makes me to know he has finally done so. Although you might accept his taking a mistress, it will no longer be me. If the earl comes expecting to bed me, I will turn him away and encourage him to honor his marriage vows,” Sarah said quite firmly, her shoulders squaring as she sat up straighter.

Hannah stared at Sarah in surprise.
This was unexpected
. “But, Henry
loves
you,” she said again, her tone plaintive, the words so simple they sounded hollow. “Don’t you ... love him?”

Sarah could not have predicted such a statement coming from Hannah. Nor could she have expected such a blunt question. She gave her head a little shake. “I am merely the mother of his son. He loves me for that. Nothing more,” she tried to reason, her head shaking from side to side. “Please, ... Hannah.” The name seemed hard for her to say. “Do not think of me as his mistress. Do not think of me as his paramour or his ... lover. If you must think of me at all, then do so only as the mother of Nathan,” she pleaded. “And insist he bed you exclusively for as long as possible.”

Hannah stared at Sarah for several moments, surprised by the woman’s advice and left wondering how it was Henry could think this woman loved him.

Perhaps he didn’t think it, though. He had never said anything about Sarah returning the affection he felt for her. Could he possibly know she didn’t share his feelings? That their relationship wasn’t as mutual as he implied?

Hannah finally nodded. “He said he would visit me every night until I am with child,” Hannah admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, finding the words easy to say to Sarah. “So, I suppose that will be at least two or three weeks, perhaps more,” she reasoned, thinking of when her monthly courses were due in the event she did not conceive before then.

Sarah nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her teacup. “That should be enough time,” she murmured, not elaborating on what she meant by the comment. “Would you like more tea?” she asked then, realizing her own cup was empty.

Hannah gave her a wan smile. “No, thank you. I need to make some more calls,” she spoke softly. “I have more bread to deliver.”

“Mrs. Canker, perhaps?” Sarah wondered, her head cocking to one side.

Hannah nodded. “Yes. And Mrs. Billingsly, too,” she added, hoping she had the name right.

Sarah returned the nod. “They are both quite old and a bit infirm, but they are also very sharp,” she said as she motioned to her forehead. “And Mrs. Canker will be quite pointed in her remarks, so do not take offense.”

Smiling at Sarah’s comments, Hannah leaned forward. “Thank you for speaking with me. I never thought it would be awkward for you to meet me, and of course it was. But I want us to be friends. Please accept my apologies,” she said, taking Sarah’s hand in hers.

The older woman glanced down at Hannah’s hand covering hers, her face brightening with a smile. “Apology accepted, of course. Come for tea whenever you wish. And I wish you happy. I really do,” she said, a faraway look crossing her face.

As Hannah retrieved her basket of bread from next to the front steps, she bid Sarah farewell. With Harold on her heels, she made her way to the other houses Mrs. Batey had described earlier that day. Mrs. Canker was as Sarah described, causing Hannah to blush at least twice with her gentle ribbing and ribald comments. Mrs. Billingsly, a much quieter woman, made a few complaints about aching joints and voiced her surprise at receiving scones and bread from a countess. “’Bout time we had one here,” the frail woman said, waving a crooked finger in Hannah’s direction. “’Enry needs an heir.”

Hannah felt her face redden for at least the third time that day. “And I desperately want a child,” she countered with an embarrassed grin. “A boy first, I hope.”

“Then it will be bottoms up for you, my lady,” Mrs. Billingsly said with a nod. “On your elbows and knees if you want a boy and on your back if you want a girl.” Her chin came up a fraction, as if to drive home her point. If she thought the instruction the least bit embarrassing, she did not show it in her expression or her demeanor.

Hannah blinked at the old woman. “Oh,” she replied, not sure how else to respond to such a comment. Was the old woman suggesting ..? Of course, she was. Elizabeth had spoken of such positions. Many of them, in fact. “Well,” Hannah said as she glanced around the sparse cottage and decided Mrs. Billingsly was doing fine on her own. “I really must be taking my leave. Do take care,” she murmured as she made her way to the door and bade Mrs. Billingsly a good day.