wincing at the words, and she wondered if he was remembering his own pain. “At the guest house where she stayed. She was within when it burned down.”
Hannah gasped. “That is awful.”
“It is,” Edmund said grimly. “The ruins are not far – around the wood in the back. I can show you later if you’d like.”
Hannah nodded, though her stomach tightened at the thought. “I should see them,” she said bravely, “if this is to be my home.”
Edmund’s blue-eyed stare turned on her, capturing her for more than a moment, and she wondered if she had said the wrong thing.
“Is it not?”
He nodded slowly. “It is.”
Hannah was so shaken that when she began to walk toward the door, her toe caught the corner of the low chair and she began to tumble forward. She threw out her hands in order to catch herself, whether on the stool or the bed she wasn’t entirely sure, but then strong arms came around her, catching her before she could pitch forward at all.
“Easy,” Edmund said, his hands encircling her waist, and Hannah allowed herself a moment to lean into him. A tingle coursed through her at his touch. She couldn’t be sure if it was him, or the fact she had never been so close to a man — besides her library stranger — that caused such sensations, but she had to admit that she was becoming quite fascinated by him. He was her husband, and yet she knew nothing about him.
It seemed he enjoyed their closeness as well, for he allowed his hands to linger. When he finally set her back on her feet and moved away, Hannah noticed crisscrossed scars on both of his hands and averted her gaze before he caught her staring.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, warmth rising in her cheeks. “I don’t recall the chair being here before. In fact, I’m fairly certain it was tucked underneath the desk.”
She pushed it back where it belonged, the sound of the wood scraping against the floor loud to her ears in the silence that had stretched between them.
“Here,” she said, handing him the packet of letters, their fingers brushing against one another as she did so. “You should keep them.”
“No,” he said, wrapping her fingers around them, his hands cold yet somehow sending shocks through her from where they touched. “They remained lost until you arrived. Perhaps it is your role here to unravel this mystery.”
“Perhaps,” she said. As they walked out of the room and back down the long gallery, Hannah could have sworn someone was watching them.
“You wily old goat,” Edmund muttered as he took a seat in his library, pulling out a fresh sheet of vellum as he dipped his quill pen in the inkwell. He looked up at his ancestor, shaking his head at him. Edmund had long accepted the fact that his great-uncle had not yet departed the estate he had called home many years prior. It seemed the spirit was up to some mischief now.
“We are not a love match,” he continued, though knew that if anyone walked in upon him speaking to a portrait, he would be considered mad. “It was all a business transaction. That, and preserving my family’s dignity. I’ll look after the woman, I promise, but I doubt she will remain here long.”
A book fell from one of the shelves and Edmund rubbed his forehead over where the scars began. It was always a bit itchy.
“Yes, we will try to solve your little mystery,” he promised with a sigh. “But if you continue to spook her, I’m sure she will be gone from here even faster than we were married.”
Edmund did dine with his wife that night, though he said little, despite her repeated attempts at conversation. He noted she didn’t eat much. Instead, she simply pushed the food around on her plate as though she had no appetite. He looked down at his own dinner. He supposed Mrs. Ackerman was not exactly the most accomplished cook, but he hadn’t overly cared. He ate only to sustain himself, not to engage in any culinary delights.
“Perhaps we will have to see about hiring a cook,” he muttered, and Hannah looked up at him hopefully.
“That might be nice,” she said with a smile, showing off teeth that were just a bit crooked, though somehow they made her much more endearing. She was such a pretty thing that he despaired of the fact her beauty was wasted upon him and this house, away