“I suppose none of that is new information, but did you know that she was a tavern maid at the Horse and Hen in Covent Garden?”
Hannah’s single question caused a rush of tangled emotions to barrel through Eoin. He almost clenched his fists at the onslaught. But Eoin was too well schooled to even twitch amuscle. Instead, he sat stiffly in his chair as he tried to absorb the news that they had not just another clue but a concrete lead.
Yes, his mother and his sister had probably long moved away from the tavern, but it was an actual physical place instead of the vague, mostly forgotten memories of a six-year-old. For the first time since early childhood, hope flickered that he might actually see his loved ones again.
“It shouldn’t take too long to discover more. I’ve already asked your butler to send a message round to Sophia. She’ll send out one of our boys, and we should have an answer by late afternoon,” Hannah said. “If you wish, the two of us can head to the Horse and Hen tonight—if it still exists—or we can visit whatever establishment took its place.”
Eoin wanted to say yes, but he stole a reluctant look at the pile of ledgers sitting on his ink blotter. “I am afraid I have accounts to review. I cannot let my work suffer for a personal quest. Too many rely on His Grace’s—I mean my—estates.”
Hannah tilted her head. “Don’t you have a steward or two who can help you with such matters?”
“I do,” Eoin admitted, but they were all dour men whom he’d inherited from his grandfather.
“Then why aren’t they assisting you? Do you mistrust their loyalty? Are they embezzling?”
Eoin stopped a sigh as he ran one finger over the leather binding of the top record. “I am afraid it is too much devotion, at least to my grandfather and his ways.”
“Do you plan to run your holdings differently than he did?” Hannah was no longer slouching but leaning forward, her eyes the exact color of dew-kissed grass in the spring.
Eoin paused. He never shared his inner thoughts, and doing so felt odd—like he was trying to stretch a weak and underutilized muscle. “I—I believe so.”
“You don’t sound very confident.” Hannah threw down her words like a gauntlet of old, but Eoin didn’t want to spar. He desired a confidante, someone he’d never had even for trivial matters.
“I am indeed uncertain,” Eoin admitted, even as he warned himself not to share too much. But he couldn’t help it, not when Hannah was asking the perfect questions, echoing the thoughts that had been ripping through him since his grandfather’s death. “I know what kind of duke my grandfather wanted me to be—he spent my lifetime making sure of it.”
“But you don’t want to be his version of a peer?” Hannah asked slowly, as if he were a particularly dense text that she was attempting to decipher.
“No,” Eoin said, and an emotion akin to relief flooded him. It was freeing to admit that aloud, to confess that all his grandfather’s efforts had failed.
“What kind of nob do you want to be?” Hannah asked in a straightforward way that should have grated. Instead, he welcomed the question.
“One that makes improvements to his lands,” Eoin answered promptly because he knew at least that. “My grandfather resisted implementing the four-crop rotation system. He thought that turnips were unpleasant peasant food, and he didn’t want them growing on his property. I’m considering replacing wheeled plows with newer, lighter ones. I’ve also been wondering if a short canal would improve transport. The Sankey Canal is a fascinating marvel, and I’m closely following the proposed Bridgewater Canal. There’s also a possibility of hiring an expert to determine if there are any useful mineral deposits. And…”
Eoin trailed off as he realized that he’d started to babble. He didn’t recall ever speaking so much at one time. His grandfather would have rebuked him after the second sentence. Butthese ideas… they’d been simmering in his mind for years. He’d never allowed them to boil over, yet now they seemed to spew from him.
“Are you going through the ledgers to see what you can invest?” Hannah asked, her gaze penetrating.
“Um, yes,” Eoin admitted, slightly taken aback by how quickly Hannah had assessed the situation, but he supposed that she successfully ran her own business.
“You aren’t the duke that I thought you’d be,” Hannah told him, her expression hard to read but most definitely intense.
Her statement, though, bothered him. It almost sounded as if she knew him better than the circumstances warranted. But his thoughts immediately slammed to a stop when she smiled broadly.
“And I believe I like the difference.”
Incendiary heat burst through Eoin, and this time he did ball his hands into fists. It was either that or gulp like a landed fish. He should be wary of how easily this woman could turn him into an inferno, but instead he yearned to see what would happen if she continued to break through his legendary control.
“That is kind of you to say.” Eoin’s voice sounded strained to his own ears.
Hannah laughed, the sound rich and throaty. It seemed to rumble through Eoin until his body resonated with her mirth.
“You say the most perfunctory statements in the most unexpectedly charming manner.”
“I’m not known to be charming,” Eoin confessed. He was fully aware of his reputation for being “either a boring menace or menacing bore,” as one debutante had quipped.
“Nor am I.” Hannah grinned. “I’m much too bold.”
“I—I like your boldness.” Eoin stumbled over the words as anew, less pleasant heat washed over him. He’d never imagined uttering such a statement, and it made him feel unbalanced.
