from London and all who would desire to look upon her. She was one of those women who would likely forever seem much younger than she was in reality.
After dinner he retreated to his library to write once more, and she trailed along after him. He supposed she didn’t have much else with which to occupy herself.
She stood in front of his bookshelves as he took a seat behind his desk.
“You have quite a collection,” she observed, to which he responded with a grunt. “Are they yours, or were they here when you arrived?”
“Both.”
“When did you first begin living here at Hollingswood?”
“After I returned from war,” he said, not particularly inclined to share details.
“Who lived here before that?”
“Another relative, but he died years before. It was empty for about fifteen years.”
“I see.”
She wandered closer toward him, looking up at the portrait above him.
“Your great-uncle looks quite a lot like you,” she said, tilting her head to study him.
“So I am told.”
“Did he have any children?”
“No,” he shook his head. “It is how the house eventually came to my father and then to me.”
“Was your grandmother Isabel, the woman from the letters?” she asked, and Edmund sighed, raising his head as he gave up all hope of work.
“No,” he answered her, looking up and giving her his full attention. “After she died, my grandfather remarried, and they had children together. There were no offspring from his first wife.”
“I suppose that is for the best,” she said, to which he agreed.
“How long did your great-uncle live?”
Edmund rose now and walked over to her, coming to stand next to her shoulder.
“Not long,” he said. “After the tragedy here, he joined the war effort. He was gravely injured, but returned here to die.”
“I wonder if he lost all hope of living anymore, after losing his love,” she murmured.
“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, and she turned her wide-eyed stare upon him.
“What isn’t?”
“Choosing whether or not to die. Sometimes it is impossible, as much as you will it to be so.”
Her gaze turned sympathetic, and he turned away from her pity.
“Why, Edmund?” she asked softly. “Why would you want to die? You have always had much to live for, have you not?”
“It wasn’t worth it,” he said, shaking his head. “Not where I was.”
“I thought prisoners were treated rather well,” she said with question.
“Officers often are,” he said. “When I was captured, however, it must have been impossible to determine my insignia. I had lost my jacket and my clothing was in ruins. I ended up on a prison depot that was basically forgotten about. Unlike most, it was rife with disease and death. I would likely have faced my end there had not fellow prisoners looked after me. How I survived, to this day I am not entirely sure. I should have died of infection. When we—” he couldn’t say it. It was too much to share, “when I was finally rescued and I saw the sun once more, at first I thought I had died and was seeing heaven – until I realized that the chance of me ending up there was so low that it had to be reality.”
“Oh, Edmund,” she said, looking up at him. “I don’t believe it. You are a good man.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” she said, looking up at him with such hope, such trust, that he couldn’t turn away, as much as he wanted to.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For ruining your life,” he said flatly. “You did nothing to deserve this – life with me.”
“I believe,” she said, stepping closer to him, “that this is a far better life than what I would have had with your brother.”
At her upturned face, her ill-placed faith in his goodness, he couldn’t help himself. He raised his hand to her soft skin, gently brushing his fingertips across it. It was as smooth as the finest silk gown. And when she stood on the tips of her toes and brushed those lips he remembered so well against his, he was lost.
Chapter 7
Hannah hadn’t meant to kiss him.
Or, maybe, deep within her, there had been a part of her that had wanted to. But she couldn’t recall making a conscious choice to press her lips against his.
Edmund was surly. He was gruff. He chose to be closed off from her and the rest of the world.
But his vulnerability, however much he attempted to hide it, was obvious. She wanted to know the man who was hidden underneath, the