“Because I was a coward.” Hannah spoke bluntly, her voice harsh in condemnation of herself. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I was also afraid of losing you.”
Her words should have mollified him or at least soothed his agony. And they did… but not enough. Hannah had lied before, and Eoin had trouble believing that anyone wanted him for himself.
“I was my grandfather’s puppet”—Eoin still couldn’t turn in Hannah’s direction—“and this was the attic where he storedme. When he died, I was left empty. Then I met you, and I started to believe I wasn’t just a shell. You didn’t tell me what to do or how to think, and you chose to be by my side simply because you enjoyed my company. That gave me confidence to trust my own inner thoughts and desires. I even started to act upon them. And now I learn that our entire relationship was predicated on a lie. You didn’t break my trust just in you but in myself.”
Hannah made a guttural sound that echoed Eoin’s own pain. He yearned to take her into his arms, to comfort both of them. But he couldn’t reach out. Not yet at least.
Resolutely, he walked over to one of the deeply recessed windows. He leaned against the stone sill, feeling the coolness of the rock even as the summer heat bore through the glass. “I understand why you made the decisions that you did. I realize that my family was ultimately at fault. But even if I comprehend why, I cannot stop my emotional response. I have spent too many years suppressing my feelings, and they will no longer be suffocated under logic, I am afraid.”
“I—I don’t want you to do that either. I want you to be free of all the unnatural restraints that your grandfather foisted upon you.” Hannah’s voice sounded teary, and Eoin scraped his fingers against the sandstone. But he kept his gaze on the lands that were now his burden.
“I may very well work through this, Hannah.” Eoin felt something wet strike his cheeks, but he did not reach up to wipe the tears away. It would hurt Hannah more deeply if she realized he was crying. “I know you say that your affections for me are real, but I must relearn how to believe your claims.”
“Do you wish for me to leave now that you have said your piece?” Hannah was back to being unusually meek.
“It may be for the best. I need quietude, Hannah, to make sense of all this.”
“Do you wish for me to depart altogether or just to leave this chamber? If I promise to stay out of your way, should I continue to help investigate?” Hannah asked. “It is the least I can do.”
“You may help look for clues with the others,” Eoin allowed. “I am not banishing you from an entire fortress—just one particular tower. There’s nothing in here of import anyway. The family never uses this drafty place.”
Eoin heard Hannah’s footsteps cross the room. The wooden door squeaked open, but it did not shut immediately.
“You are wrong about one thing, Eoin. There is something very valuable in this turret, and that is you.”
Then Hannah was gone, and Eoin was alone. Again. Except for one very overprotective gosling.
He buried his head in his hands and stood frozen, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He’d cried every night in this room after his grandfather had ripped him from his family. And then one evening the tears hadn’t come, and he’d felt… nothing. He’d become as barren as this empty chamber until he’d met an irrepressible redhead on a moonlit country road.
But now… now he was sore afraid he would be hollow again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
What is the point of teaching me to think and fight for myself if you’re going to literally storm castles and treat me like some bloody damsel in distress?” Hannah asked as she, Sophia, and her parents were scouring Lord Hugh’s personal rooms. The rest of her friends from the Black Sheep had arrived in the morning, and they’d split into groups. Eoin—who could barely even look at Hannah, let alone speak to her—was searching with his sister, his mother, and Powys. Charlotte, Matthew, and Calliope formed the third contingent.
“You were with a bloody Aucourte who was proposing marriage to you!” her father grumped as he withdrew yet another bottle that still smelled faintly of gin. Fortunately, this one was empty. They had found several bottles under the bed that Hugh had evidently used instead of a chamber pot. Apparently, he’d been hiding the extent of his drunkenness from even the servants like a small child would sweep evidence of a broken plate under furniture. He must have worried that the staff would report him to his father.
“Marriage! Marriage!” Pan cackled gleefully as he soared around the room. He was very pleased with himself today, especially after he’d flown into the hackney carriage afterSophia and Hannah’s mother. Since they were chasing after Hannah’s father, they’d just brought the cheeky creature along.
“Yes, he was proposing, Papa! Which, last time I checked, is not dastardly.” Hannah slowly lifted the lid of a battered trunk, half afraid of what she would find.
“Well to be fair, a betrothal could be perilous,” Sophia said as she pulled open a drawer in a massive writing desk situated near the window. “Consider Viscount Hawley. Any offer of marriage from him would have been very hazardous for the poor lady receiving it.”
“Not. Helping,” Hannah said between her gritted teeth as she paused from her search to send Sophia a scathing look. “Besides, Eoin is nothing like that murderous fiend.”
Frustration filled Hannah, although most of her fury was aimed at herself. Yes, she could blame her father for barging into the room yesterday, but she was the one who hadn’t mustered up the courage to tell Eoin the truth. If she had, she likely wouldn’t have wounded him so deeply. And it hurt, knowing how much she’d injured him—nay, crushed him. She’d spent the whole night lying awake, just wanting to rush to him and offer comfort. But she’d lost that right. He’d asked for distance, and it was her duty to provide it, no matter what it cost her personally.
“Please cease calling the new Foxglen by his given name. Familiarity with a man that high in the instep will do you no good,” her father complained as he continued to pull disgusting glass containers from below Hugh’s feather mattress. “And why have I been assigned the filthiest duty?”
“Because you deserve a little purgatory, dear,” Hannah’s mother said in her dulcet yet crisp tone. In this, Hannah entirely agreed. She’d earned some penance herself, which waswhy she’d volunteered to search the cavernous trunk. Although as of yet, she’d discovered nothing but winter blankets.
“You cannot be happy that Hannah is cavorting with a duke!” Her father looked more horrified by the idea of Hannah’s mother approving of her relationship than of Hugh’s foul mess.
“You forget that I am the daughter of a nobleman,” Mama pointed out. “And once upon a time, I was sneaking out of my bedchamber to meet a dashing former pirate who swore he was now a respectable proprietor of a coffeehouse.”
“Well, that was different. I possess a proverbial heart of gold.” Papa sent his wife a wink, which she pointily ignored.
“So does Eoin,” Hannah replied fiercely as she thought of how she’d driven a dagger through his sternum. “He has grand plans for his estates that will benefit the tenants. I even helped him scour the account books to find ways to save money in order to enact more improvements. He isn’t his grandfather, and he isn’t his title either. He is so much more than that.” And she should have made that abundantly clear to Eoin.
