No, if she had to face Lord Belgrave again, she would tell him exactly what she thought of him.Perhaps he would call off his plans.
Her father, the marquess, stood beside the fireplace, his pocket watch in his hands.Disappointment and sadness cloaked his features as he put the watch in his waistcoat.He paced toward the sofa and sat down, his wrists resting upon his knees.
Hannah went and sat down beside her father.She reached out and took his hand.Anger would never win a battle against her father.But he had a soft spot for obedience.
“I know that you are trying to protect me,” she said gently.“And as your only daughter, I know that you want someone to take care of me.”
His eyes were stormy with unspoken fury, but he was listening.
“I beg of you, Papa, don’t ask me to marry Lord Belgrave,” she pleaded.“I don’t care if he reveals the scandal to everyone.”
“I do.”Her father’s grip tightened around her knuckles.“I won’t allow our family name to be degraded, simply because you lost your judgment one night.”
Hannah pulled her hand away.“I will marry no one.”Rising to her feet, she added, “Especially not Baron Belgrave.”
“It won’t be Michael Thorpe.God help me, you will not wed a soldier.”
The thought had never entered her mind, but at the reminder of the lieutenant, a caress of heat erupted over her body.Sensual and rebellious, a man like Michael Thorpe would never treat her with the polite distance so typical of marriage.No, she suspected he was the sort of man who would possess her, stealing her breath away in forbidden pleasure.Like he had when he’d kissed her.
Hannah shook her head, hiding her blush.“Of course not.”
Plunging forward, she revealed an alternate plan.“Send me somewhere far away from London until the talk dies down.We have cousins elsewhere in Europe, don’t we?”
“Germany,” he admitted.His countenance turned grim, but she thought she detected a softening in his demeanor.Please, God, let him listen to me, she prayed.
At that moment, the footman Phillips gave a quiet knock.“Forgive me, my lord, but Baron Belgrave is here to call upon Lady Hannah.”
The marquess hesitated a moment before speaking.Hannah gripped her fingers together so hard, her knuckles turned white.She shook her head, pleading with her father.
“Give him another chance, Hannah,” the marquess said quietly.“Despite his reproachable actions, the man does come from an excellent family.He can provide you with anything you’d ever need.”
She couldn’t believe the words had come from her father’s mouth.She’d known that he cared about appearances, that upholding model behavior was important to him.But she’d never thought wealth was more important than her own well-being.
“Papa, please,” she whispered again.“Don’t ask this of me.”
Her father’s face tensed, but his tone was unyielding when he spoke.“Tell the baron my daughter will await him in the drawing room.”
Chapter Five
Michaelstoodatattentionwhen Colonel Hammond entered the room.He’d been summoned to the War Office this morning, but it wasn’t the commander-in-chief who’d prepared his new orders.Instead, he’d been shown into a smaller sitting room.“Colonel, you asked to see me?”
“Yes.I’m afraid there’s been a change in your assignment,” the Colonel admitted.The senior officer’s red jacket gleamed with brass buttons, the gold epaulettes resting upon his shoulders.Michael felt ill at ease in his own slate-blue uniform, which still bore the bloodstains he hadn’t been able to wash clean.
The Colonel gestured toward a wooden chair, and Michael took a seat.“You won’t be returning to the front, after all.”
“I’ve made a full recovery,” Michael felt compelled to point out.“I’m ready to fight again.”
Colonel Hammond looked uncomfortable.“That will have to wait, I’m afraid.Though I should like to see you return to battle as well—we can always use men of your fortitude—I’m afraid the Army has other plans for you.”
An uncomfortable suspicion settled in his gut.Had the marquess used his powers of influence so soon?Michael had known that he would probably be sent away from England, but he’d expected to return to duty.
“What are my orders?”
The Colonel sat across from him, a large mahogany desk as a barrier between them.“You will accompany the ambassador from Lohenberg, the Graf von Reischor, to his homeland.He has proposed to send supplies to the Crimean Peninsula, offering aid from their country to our troops.You will assist the Commissariat by choosing what is most needed for the men.”
Michael’s hand clenched into a fist.He didn’t believe for a moment that the Graf was acting out of concern for the British troops.This was nothing but a stranger meddling in his military career, all because he’d ignored the summons.Why should he care whether or not he resembled the king of some tiny, forgotten country?
He’d given years of service to the Army, obeying orders and doing his best to keep his men alive.And with a single stroke of the pen, the Lohenberg Graf had turned his military career from a soldier into an errand boy.
