Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender (31 page)

R
afe leaned his back against a tree near the stream and remembered the first time he saw Hannah sitting on the bank with her feet dangling in the water. He could still see her lithe figure as if she were still there, still see her tipped-back head as she let the sun’s rays beam down on her. Still see her long lashes as they rested on her cheeks.

He breathed a painful sigh as he tried to ease the heavy weight that pressed against his chest.

It had been nearly two months since the night of the auction, and he missed her as much today as he had the day he’d left her. He wasn’t sure then that he could live the rest of his life without her, and he was less sure today.

He’d expected Hannah to do all the changing, expected her to believe that he could pretend her past had never happened. Pretend that she was a different person than who she truly was. That was why she’d held the auction—to put who and what she was in terms he couldn’t misunderstand. To show him that she was a famous prostitute, and if he wanted her, he had to accept that.

He remembered asking her to go away with him and pretend to be someone she wasn’t. He knew now that she’d been right all along. There wasn’t a chance in the world
that she wouldn’t be recognized. Or that he wouldn’t have to leave one congregation after another in disgrace when the parishioners discovered that the vicar’s wife was the famous Madam Genevieve.

But most humiliating of all was that he had truly expected her to sit in the front row at Sunday church services and pretend to be someone she was not. How could he have been so insensitive? How could he have been so cruel?

He’d only been thinking of himself—what he wanted, what he didn’t want to give up. Not what
Hannah
would have to give up to leave with him. Not what
she
would have to suffer to make him happy.

And, most important of all, not rescuing the scores of innocent children from the streets of London. That made him the sickest—that he had put his own happiness before the welfare of children.

Hannah’s goal to save the children Skinner would sacrifice to the most evil of humanity was a thousand times more Christian than his goal to build a parish overflowing with saints. He counted his accolades by the number of praises he received after ever Sunday service. He measured his worth by the admiration and acclamations he received from the saints he shepherded.

Why hadn’t he realized before now that the
saints
didn’t need him? The
helpless
needed him. And he’d turned his back on them.

But Hannah hadn’t turned her back on them. She had more Christian compassion in her little finger than he had in his entire body.

Rafe pushed himself to his feet and took a step toward Wedgewood Manor. There were times when he couldn’t
stand to think about what he’d done. This was one of those times. He was glad Caroline had invited him to join them. Her sister and brother-in-law, the Duke and Duchess of Raeborn, were visiting, and for this one night at least, maybe their conversation would distract him from thinking about Hannah.

He cast a final glance back to the place where he’d first seen her, then walked through the grove of trees and across the meadow that took him to Wedgewood Manor. He handed his hat and gloves to the Wedgewood butler, then made his way to the parlor. He could hear voices coming from inside and knew that’s where they’d gathered.

“Did you see her when you were in London?” Caroline asked.

“Yes. We met the same as we used to. It was so good to see her, although…” The Duchess of Raeborn paused.

“Is something wrong?” Caroline asked.

Rafe waited. He knew better than to eavesdrop, but he thought the women were talking about Hannah, and he wanted to hear what they said. He knew if he joined them, they wouldn’t be as honest with him there.

“She’s not happy, Caroline. The laughter that used to be in her eyes was absent. The excitement I always heard in her voice wasn’t there. Even the delight at seeing me wasn’t as evident.”

“Did she say what was bothering her?”

“She denied that anything was bothering her. But it was obvious that something was. And I think I know what it is.”

There was a long pause before Caroline spoke. “It’s Rafe, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Oh, Grace. I wish I never had invited her here last summer. If I hadn’t, she and Rafe would never have met.”

Rafe couldn’t stand to listen to any more. He stepped through the door, then stopped when everyone’s gaze focused on him.

“Don’t ever be sorry that we met, Caroline.” He walked toward them. “My life is so much richer because I met Hannah.”

“But you are both so unhappy.”

Rafe shook his head. “That’s not your fault. Nor is it Hannah’s. The fault is mine.”

“No, Rafe. You’re—”

Rafe held up his hand to stop Caroline’s words. He slowly shifted his gaze to where the Duchess of Raeborn sat. “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Your Grace?”

The Duchess of Raeborn didn’t speak, but the look in her eyes said she knew exactly what he meant. “Would you please offer your opinion? I would truly like to hear what mistakes you think I made.”

“You won’t like what I have to say, Lord Rafe.”

“No, I won’t. But you will probably not say anything I have not already told myself.” Rafe sat in a chair facing the duchess. “I would appreciate your honesty and forwardness.”

The duchess smiled. But it was not a happy smile. Rather, a smile filled with regret. She looked him in the eyes and began.

“Unfortunately, you tried to change Hannah, Lord Rafe. You tried to make her into something she’s not. You refused to accept the fact that Hannah is Madam Genevieve. And Madam Genevieve is a whore.”

“Grace!” Caroline clasped her hand to her breast. “Hannah isn’t—”

“Yes, she is, Caroline. She is a prostitute.”

“Your Grace,” Caroline said, addressing her objection to Grace’s husband, the Duke of Raeborn.

“I’m afraid my wife is correct, Lady Wedgewood,” Raeborn answered. “Hannah is a fallen woman. She has been for nearly fifteen years. Whether or not she still practices her illicit trade doesn’t change what she is.”

“And you tried to change her into something she’s not,” the duchess continued. “It’s impossible for her to take her place in the front pew of your church when you preach. And that’s what you wanted her to do. Am I correct?”

Rafe nodded. “Completely.”

“You were ready to accept her past as long as she
pretended
to be a good, pious Christian to the people in your congregation.” Her Grace paused. “Your mistake was that you tried to make her into something she wasn’t. You expected her to live in fear every day of her life that someone would discover her past. And what was your answer if her past was discovered?”

“I told her we would move to a place where no one knew her.”

The four people in the room sat in silence. There was nothing they could say. Nothing that could shed a more favorable light on what he’d expected from Hannah.

“Oh, Rafe,” Caroline said. “Why did you want Hannah to change? Don’t you realize how much good Hannah does? She rescues children from a life on the streets. She helps the people who really need her and tries to make a difference in their lives.”

“I know,” Rafe answered. “But I loved her so much I was desperate for the world to know her and see her as I did. I wanted her to be accepted for the wonderful person she is. I didn’t realize that by doing what I wanted her to do, she would have to give up what was the most important to her. I didn’t understand what wanting these things for her would seem like to her.”

“She’s in love with you, Rafe,” Caroline said in a choked voice. “You’re the first man she’s ever loved.”

“I know,” Rafe whispered. He took several deep breaths, then lifted his gaze to meet the duchess’s. “How is she?” he asked.

“She’s miserable. She’s hurting. She misses you. But she won’t admit it.”

Rafe nodded.

The five people in the room sat in silence for several moments. Thankfully, the Wedgewood butler interrupted to announce that dinner was served.

Rafe rose with the others, but stopped. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Caroline. I can’t stay.”

“What are you going to do?” Thomas asked.

“What I should have done from the beginning. Except I was too blind to know it.”

“Are you sure—” Thomas tried to ask, but Rafe held out a hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he left the room. “I’ll write.”

Then Rafe left to do what he should have done a long time ago.

H
annah walked through a side door of the large parlor where several of Madam Genevieve’s girls were visiting with men who’d come to pick out a partner for the night. There was a time when she enjoyed joining in on conversations with the guests. But that time was long over.

She hadn’t felt like taking part in anything since the night of the auction. Since the night Rafe had won her, and she’d lost him.

She climbed the stairs to her rooms and opened the door. After she closed the door behind her, she walked to her favorite chair that sat in front of the fireplace and watched the flames lick upward.

When would Rafe stop haunting her every waking and every sleeping moment? When would she be able to get on with her life? Living without him was a torture as difficult as anything she’d ever endured. There were days she wasn’t sure she could survive.

She leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. She hadn’t been sitting long when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she said.

Dalia entered, then closed the door behind her. “Are you up to talking for a bit?”

“Of course. There’s tea on the cart. Would you like a cup?”

“Would you?”

Hannah shook her head. “I’ve had enough for the night.”

Dalia sat in the chair next to Hannah, as she often did. Hannah enjoyed her company, although evening visits were rare, since that was the busiest time at Madam Genevieve’s.

“How are you doing, Genny?”

“You mean my shoulder?”

“Yes, that, and…everything else.”

“By everything else, I assume you mean, am I getting over my vicar?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean. It’s obvious that you haven’t been the same since he left.”

“I’m sorry, Dal. I’ll try harder to be like I used to be.”

“I’m not complaining, Genny. I just hate to see you so unhappy.”

Hannah knew Dalia was concerned. That was the kind of friend she was. “I’ve never asked you before, but have you ever been in love?”

Dalia smiled. “Once.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I married him.”

That news shocked Hannah. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“No one does. It’s not something I feel people need to know.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died. His name was Jamie. He worked in a brewery, and one of the boilers exploded. The building caught on fire, and he didn’t make it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Hannah whispered.

“We’d only been married six months and were still very much in love. I was expecting his babe, but when I got news that Jamie was dead, I lost the child.”

“Oh, Dalia. I’m so sorry.”

Dalia was silent for a few moments. “There are things we can’t control. That was one of them.”

“How did you end up here? Doing this?”

“After Jamie died, I didn’t have any money, so I came to London. The same as the girls we rescue. I thought it would be easy to find work. Instead, no one wanted a starving female without training and without papers. So I came here.”

“I see.”

“And this is where I want to stay.”

Hannah smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Dalia hesitated, then continued. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. Something important.”

Hannah turned to face her friend. She could tell by the sound of Dalia’s voice that what she wanted to talk to her about was serious. “Yes?”

“I’ve been watching you lately, and I know you’re not as happy here as you used to be. That’s understandable. If, however, you’d ever like to leave…”

Hannah sat forward in her chair.

“I’m not suggesting you leave,” Dalia continued, “or hinting that I think you should. I’m just saying that if you’d ever
like
to leave, I’d be willing to buy Madam Genevieve’s from you.”

Hannah sat back in her chair and tried to digest Dalia’s offer.

“I’m not sure I can, Dal. There are the children to consider.”

“Nothing would change. I’d continue to rescue the children from the streets, and I’d send to Coventry Cottage the ones who didn’t have homes to return to.”

Dalia turned her gaze to the flames in the fireplace. “Every time we rescue one of the young ones from the life of prostitution, I think of my babe. I think of what it would have been like for her if she were forced to live on the streets. If someone wasn’t there to save her from having to sell herself to earn enough money to eat.”

Hannah’s mind was filled with a hundred questions—a hundred possibilities.

It had been years since she’d worked at Madam Genevieve’s, and there were times when she dreamed of leaving. But she knew she couldn’t. She needed the money Madam Genevieve’s brought in to run Coventry Cottage.