“Look at this,” he said with a curl of his lip, circling her as he tapped his cane on the cobbles. “My little dove has found a new place to rest.”
“I am notyouranything,” retorted Hanna with a defiant glare.
Emsley glanced discreetly around, then beckoned her into the alley. Hanna reluctantly followed, knowing this might be her only chance to speak with him.
She could do it, she must.For James.
Henry turned towards her and pursed his lips, inspecting her with a smirk. “I expected to see you at the manor. Imagine my surprise when I heard of your disgraceful departure.”
Hanna frowned at his distasteful words, gathering her courage. “I need to speak to you-”
“Now, now. There will be plenty of time for a chat later. I want you to come to the hunting lodge six days from now. I am hosting a little hunting party and you, my dear, would make the perfectentertainment.”
Shock and disgust almost closed her throat. “I will not,” Hanna managed to whisper, clutching her skirts with hands that shook with distress.
Henry flashed her a confused mein. “Why ever not? I will pay you well, it’s more than a chit like yourself can ask for, really-”
“I am not your doxy!” hissed Hanna, the urge to run growing stronger with every moment. She had been so, so wrong. She should never have tried to talk to him.
“You, you-”
He raised his brows in mock surprise, gesturing with his hand. “Yes, go on-”
Hanna stared impotently at him, the words lodged in her throat.
“Well, we shall see,” murmured Lord Emsley, flicking the lint from his sleeve and sauntering back towards the street. He stopped and turned to her. “We will speak on this again. I daresay, next time you will not refuse me.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Hanna to sink back against the wall and sob into her hands.
After a while, she sniffed and straightened her back, scrubbing her palms over her cheeks and taking a deep breath through her nose.
There was nothing for it but to carry on. There was no one to come and save her, she would just have to work harder.
HANNA
Later that afternoon, Hanna hid herself in the shadows at the side of the workshop, listening in disbelief as her father seemingly bartered with the gamekeeper for her hand.
She felt as if in a dream, as she strained to hear the conversation.
She had come home before heading for Maria’s cottage, as was her way, and had heard her name several times in her father’s gruff voice.
Hanna hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she was compelled to hear what Wolff was saying about her.
“And what would I get out of it?” her father grumbled, kicking at a stone in the doorway as Wolff stood resolute before him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he set his offer on the table.
“You would have the first pick of the hides I trap in winter, and of course, my lord’s continued support and patronage.”
Her father snorted. “As if there is anyone who could work leather the way I do, your father knew-”
Alaric interrupted, holding up his hand impatiently. “Careful, I am not my father. There is always someone else. Don’t make me take my business elsewhere.”
Hanna’s father paused, eyeing the man warily. “You truly want her? You know what she is-”
“Your daughter?” answered Alaric archly, almost daring her father to finish his sentence, his heavy brows drawing together in a menacing way that made Hanna feel something sharp and confusing twist through her belly.
Her breath caught. They were negotiating. Bartering.
For her.
