“Are you?” Hannah couldn’t help but inquire.
“Am I what?” Foxglen asked.
“His shadow.”
Foxglen’s lips twitched, but then they smoothed back into an expressionless line. “I am not sure what I am, but I would not harm either my sister or my mother. They are crucial to discovering just who I am.”
Hannah had not expected honesty, especially when the truth made Foxglen look vulnerable. Once again, she felt herself softening. But Foxglen hadn’t denied being a new version of the old duke. Hannah reminded herself that he’d only vowed not to hurt his own blood.
“What will you do when you find them?” Hannah asked.
“I’ll confirm that my mother and sister aren’t suffering. If they are, I’ll immediately redress their afflictions to the best of my abilities. Any interaction beyond that would depend entirely upon their wants—although I will provide them with a largesse regardless.” Foxglen spoke pragmatically, as if he was simply reciting from Samuel Johnson’s dictionary. Yet surely the man felt… something. He couldn’t possibly be that bloodless.
It was clear, at least, that Foxglen would do right by his mother and his sister. Moreover, he seemed to have no desire to uproot their world. In short, if Hannah helped him, she wouldn’t be subjecting two innocent women to more heartache.
Because Hannah had a plan.
It could be brilliant or brilliantly disastrous. Foxglen had just presented her with the perfect opportunity to penetrate his sphere. She would indeed help him locate his mother and his sister, but she also fully intended to root out what his paternal side was hiding.
“I will compensate you handsomely for your time,” Foxglen added. “Even if the search proves fruitless in the end.”
“Before we can agree to help you,” Sophia began, “allow me to talk to Hann—”
“We’ll do it. Or at least I will,” Hannah broke into her cousin’s statement. She would not risk giving Foxglen a chance to reconsider.
“You will?” Sophia asked, shock drenching her tone.
“Yes,” Hannah answered crisply before she turned back to Foxglen. She tried not to notice how far she needed to crane her neck to meet his eyes. “You said that you would pay. Would you be willing to give coin enough to hire another coffeehouse worker?”
“Yes,” Foxglen said immediately, although his gaze bored into her as if she were a trick box that he couldn’t figure out how to open.
“Good. It’s settled then. The Black Sheep will employ someone to fulfill my duties while I take up residence in your home.”
Chapter Four
Take—take up residence in my—my home?” Eoin was sputtering, something he never did. His grandfather had taught him to speak emphatically with no hesitation.
But Miss Hannah Wick had a way of disrupting Eoin in a way that no one else could ever manage. Warmth crept into his cheeks, and Eoin was sorely afraid that he was blushing.
“Yes. That is the best way to execute my grand idea.”
But why would Miss Wick go to such lengths as to temporarily uproot her life to assist him? Normally, Eoin was very good at deducing ploys and determining other’s motivations. But he simply could not divine Miss Wick’s intentions. She’d seemed icy when he’d first entered the Black Sheep and nothing like the coquette he’d met on the road to London. Yet now she was offering to live with him.
“And what plan have you devised, cousin?” Miss Sophia Wick demanded. She sounded strict, but Eoin could easily hear the underlying thread of worry in her tone. By the way she kept sneaking subtle glances in his direction, he could tell the woman did not trust him.
“If I am to help His Grace, then I will need an excuse to be by his side.”
Something about Miss Hannah Wick’s words sounded hollow to Eoin, but before he could deduce why, she shot him asmile. It was the precise opposite of a guileless one. It contained secrets and heat… and more than a little challenge. Eoin’s normally stalwart heart suddenly thumped madly. A strange whoosh of energy swirled through him, and he felt an elation that was disproportionate to witnessing a single grin.
“Uh—” He—who always had a short, succinct response to almost every situation—could think of nothing.
“If I am to find your relatives, I will need to be able to search for clues. Perhaps your grandfather left records in his study. Maybe servants who have worked with your family for years might know of something,” Miss Hannah Wick said.
“Can’t Malbarry—I mean Foxglen—just discover those clues himself?” Lord Percy pointed out, surprising Eoin with his insight. He’d always found the man to be rather vacuous.
Although Miss Hannah Wick had shifted her body toward Lord Percy when he’d begun speaking, she rapidly turned away from him. Had the nobleman’s comment irritated her?
“If he was able to unearth evidence on his own, he wouldn’t be asking for our assistance.” Hannah’s tone was decidedly clipped.
