But she would know it was there.
That evening,as she walked the familiar path home from Maria's cottage, Hanna finally gathered her courage. The sun was setting, painting the forest in shades of amber and shadow. She could feel him there, somewhere in the trees, keeping pace with her.
She stopped at the edge of the woods, lifted her chin and called out, her voice stronger than she felt: "I know you're there, Mr Wolff. Please, come out."
For a long moment, there was nothing but the whisper of wind through leaves. Then the shadows shifted, and he stepped into view.
Alaric Wolff emerged from behind an ancient oak as if he'd been waiting for her invitation. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, utterly silent, utterly confident. The dying light caught the sharp planes of his face, turning his eyes to burnished gold.
"Alaric," he corrected, his voice low and rough. "And you'll call me by name, Hanna, since I mean to provide for you."
Her breath caught at his presumption. "Excuse me? I don’t know what-”"
"You kept the gifts." He moved closer, and Hanna's feet felt rooted to the ground. "You accepted my care. That's answer enough."
"That's not..." She struggled to find words. "You can't just... I don't understand what you want from me."
Something flickered in his eyes, but he stepped back, tipping his hat to her as he turned away.
Her mind spun with confusion and something else. Something that made her pulse race and her skin flush.
"I thank you,” she stammered to his retreating form, standing on tiptoes to see which way he took between the trees.
Then, her heart pounding, the basket clutched to her chest, she hurried home.
HANNA
The gifts continued.
A brace of pigeons and a string of dried mushrooms appeared.
The next day, a box of small cakes and candies. This surprised Hanna the most, it seemed such a frivolous treat considering her circumstances, but she stood at the gate and looked out into the forest, mouthing athank youto the man who might be watching.
Later that night, she ate them all alone in front of the fire, sitting curled up around the box as her father snored upstairs.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a moment of lightness, carefully choosing and inspecting each delicacy in the light of the fire before popping it into her mouth.
Hanna was sweepingthe cobbles in front of the bakery door, lost in thought and humming a tune lightly, when she heard a loud, brash laugh ring out from across the street.
Instantly, cold dread rushed down her spine, and she stiffened, her chest going tight, not needing to look to know who the laugh belonged to.
It was him. The younger Lord Emsley.Henry.
She took a deep, fortifying breath and swung the broom once more with determination. Refusing to raise her eyes or look at anything but the leaves she swept neatly to the side.
It was of no matter to her if he was back visiting the estate. Emsley was a libertine who came and went as he liked, much to the displeasure of his father, the Honourable Lord John Emsley.
Hanna was sure that the game he had played with her had been repeated across the county and beyond. She was no longer the naive young girl she had been when Emsley seduced her at eighteen.
No. She realised now that toying with the staff was a mere pastime for the peerage. Nothing to be taken seriously. A distraction from the boredom of eating, riding, drinking and gaming.
Hanna sniffed in disdain and scowled at the cobbles.
Then, her head dropped as she remembered her vow to contact the man and tell Emsley of the child. Now that he had returned, Hanna would have no recourse to put the message off. It was the perfect opportunity. She just didn’t know if she was ready.
Hanna sucked in a heavy breath and finally turned to look, and came face to face with the devil himself.
Emsley looked in ruddy good health, golden hair carefully curled and tied with a ribbon beneath his hat, lace spilling decadently from his cravat and cuffs.
