Page 12 of Anastasia and the Duke
"Qui êtes-vous?" the woman whispered hoarsely, her eyes scanning Hannah's face.
Who are you?
Reflexively, Hannah answered in French, the language of her childhood.
"Je m'appelle, 'anna," she answered, her accent causing her to drop the "h" of her given name. Hannah knew that she should have also offered her surname, or spoken more formally, but Lady Lansdowne--for it could only be she--was looking at Hannah so strangely that she forgot.
"Anna?" the countess whispered, taking a step back from her. Her face went deathly white, before, with a loud sigh, she fainted to the floor.
Hannah had no time to react; the dog, Bonbon, began to howl in dismay, and several servants came running, including Gibbons.
"She fainted," Hannah offered lamely to the maid.
"I can see that," Gibbons replied, "She'll be right as rain in a few minutes. Off you go now, my dear, there's nothing you can do to help."
And so, Hannah turned on her heel and fled the house on Grosvenor Square, glad to be away from the chaos and the woman who had looked at her so strangely.
Sidney was waiting in the kitchen, upon Hannah's return to Henrietta St, and he did not even have to ask her how it went, for he could tell by her expression.
"You mucked it up somehow, I presume?"
"Hardly," Hannah replied, as she ripped off her bonnet and mob-cap, and began to unwind the shawl from her shoulders, "Lady Lansdowne is not in need of a companion; only her son seems to think she is. You should have done your research, Sid, and not have sent me on a wild goose chase."
"You should have tried to be more charming," Sid snarled in reply, as he narrowed his watery eyes at her, "Did you see the countess?"
"Just for a moment," Hannah conceded, as she threw herself into a chair. She was bone-tired from having walked across town twice in a day, and she longed to soak her feet.
"And?" Sidney prompted, licking his lips.
"And nothing," Hannah shrugged, "She fainted at having to converse with a commoner and I was sent on my merry way. That's it, Sid, your plan was about as successful as a eunuch in a doxy-house."
"I wouldn't say that, m'dear," Sidney responded, absently, his eyes alight, "Why don't you wait a day or two and see if anything comes of it. Then we may discuss your departure further."
Hannah longed to argue, but she had not the energy. What did Sidney know, anyway? He had not been there; he had not seen what a disaster she had created.
For the rest of the evening, Hannah pushed all thoughts of Lady Lansdowne and the ridiculous plan to steal her treasures from her mind. Instead, she focused on trying to decipher just how she and Nan might escape from their place under Sidney's thumb.
When she awoke the next morning, however, she found that all her plotting had been for naught.
"There she is," Sidney called, as Hannah entered the kitchen.
The hour was early; a low fire burned in the grate and Nan had not yet begun preparing breakfast for the boarders. Sidney's jaw was coated in a grey stubble, his clothes wrinkled as though he had slept in them, and there was a definite whiff of gin off him.
"There who is?" Hannah questioned churlishly, as she made for the tea-pot.
"Lady Lansdowne's new companion," Sid's wide smile revealed his gold teeth, "The countess sent word to the agency last night that she was desperate to find you. Naturally, I wasn't inclined to stir myself so late in the day at the say-so of an aristocrat, so I waited 'till this morning to come tell you."
Hannah translated his pomp to mean that he had been too drunk to stir himself, rather than disinclined.
"So it worked?" she tried to sound bright, but fear stirred a queasy soup in her belly, "Your plan worked?"
"Like a charm," Sid puffed proudly, "Now; pack your things. We've got a fortune to steal."
Chapter Four
Having promised his grandmother that he would attend one of her insufferably boring dinner parties later that evening, Oliver decided to pop into White's for a stiff brandy to give him the strength to endure what promised to be a very dull evening.
Charlotte had not said it outright, but she had hinted that several unwed young ladies would be joining them for supper. Thus, when a footman arrived to take his order, Oliver decided to ask for a decanter of brandy, rather than just a glass.
