“I’m good at many things, sweet.”His voice held the undertones of a forbidden liaison.Caught in his embrace, he kept his hands at her waist, looking into her eyes.She saw the rise and fall of his breathing, the desire that he held back.
“And what is something you’re not good at?”she asked softly.
“Letting go of something I want badly.”
Without a single word of farewell, he left the saloon.Hannah leaned back, resting her head against the mirrored panel.Neither am I.
Hannah lifted out a sage-green dress with a high collar and fitted long sleeves.She was grateful for the new traveling clothes in other colors besides rose and yellow.Though the gown covered every inch of her body, at least the color complimented her light brown hair.
“Lady Hannah, this is not the gown your mother selected for this evening’s dinner,” her maid protested.
“No, it isn’t.”And she didn’t care.The midnight-blue gown Christine Chesterfield preferred reminded Hannah of mourning garb.“I prefer this one,” she added, handing it to Estelle so she could dress her.
As soon as she arrived in Germany, she would visit a dressmaker to order new gowns that were more flattering.Perhaps she would even cut her hair shorter.Hannah smiled at the thought, fingering the long strands.
While Estelle finished styling her hair, she thought back to what Lieutenant Thorpe had said—I’m not safe at all.
It was a warning to stay away.To guard her virtue at all costs.And she should, no doubt.Yet, there was a part of her that wanted to know more about the man behind the soldier.He intrigued her, awakening the rebellious side of herself.What would it be like to live her life, not caring what others thought?
Or was it merely a façade, a means of keeping people away from him?He isolated himself from others, and it troubled her.
A knock sounded at the door, and Estelle went to open it.Hannah caught a glimpse of Mrs.Turner, the elderly woman whom Michael had asked her to watch over.
The woman appeared nervous, twisting a red bonnet in her hands.“Lieutenant Thorpe sent me here to assist you, Lady Hannah.I am Abigail Turner.”
“Come in.”Hannah gestured toward a chair.“Would you care to sit down?”
“No, thank you, my lady.”The woman stood near the door, as though trying to fade into the papered walls.The small cabin held three berths, one for each of them.Against the far wall were two chairs and an end table.On the wall adjacent to the berths, stood a large chest of drawers.
Estelle began helping Hannah into the sage-green gown, and a moment later, signaled to Mrs.Turner.“You, there.Fetch Lady Hannah’s silk fan from inside that trunk.”Without waiting for a response, the maid began fastening a pearl necklace around Hannah’s throat.
“Emeralds would look better,” Mrs.Turner suggested.
Estelle sent the widow a tight smile.“I do not believe you are responsible for Lady Hannah’s wardrobe.Her mother has taken great pains to organize each of her gowns with the appropriate matching fan, jewels, stockings and gloves, and has made lists of what outfit should be worn upon which occasion.Your help is not needed.”With a flourish, Estelle produced a small handful of papers.
“Estelle, Mrs.Turner is here at my request,” Hannah corrected.
The matron did not react to the maid’s arrogant tone, but instead, a light appeared in her eyes as though she were squaring off for battle.
Estelle pressed the lists into Hannah’s hand, and she glanced at them before setting them down on the table.Orders of what to wear, what not to eat, how to greet the other first-class passengers...the reminders went on and on.
Her mother was still trying to give orders, even while they were miles apart.
Enough.Balling up the lists into a crumpled heap of paper, Hannah tossed them in the wastebasket.Her maid gave a cry of dismay, but left the lists alone.
“Did you pack the emeralds, Estelle?”she inquired.
“Yes, my lady, but your mother’s orders were—”
“I beg your pardon.”Mrs.Turner cleared her throat and turned a sharp eye upon Estelle.“Are you arguing with your mistress?”
“Do you dare to criticize me?”The maid puffed up with anger.“Lady Rothburne is a marchioness, one of the greatest ladies in all of London.I take pride in following her explicit orders.”
Mrs.Turner frowned and began looking around the cabin.She lifted a cushion, spying beneath it.“Well, I don’t see Lady Rothburne here, do you?”
Hannah had difficulty concealing her smile.
“If your lady wishes to wear emeralds instead of pearls, what does it matter?”
