Page 17 of Anastasia and the Duke
"I feel a sense of longing," Hannah had answered, her eyes fixed upon the ruby necklace at thecomtesse's neck, her heart once again closed off. She had a job to do; indulging in sentimentality was a preserve of the rich.
Her answered had appeared to seal the deal, for Lady Lansdowne had decided, there and then, that Hannah was to stay as her guest--for in her eyes, there seemed to be no question that Hannah was the missing Anastasia.
Sidney's plan to accept an invitation to stay, without accepting the idea that she might be Anastasia de Bonneval, was working. The entire household thought Hannah to be a quiet, warm-hearted girl, without a bad-bone in her body. The fact that she had dissuaded--and continued to dissuade--the countess of the notion that she might be her long-lost relative, had only ingratiated her even more amongst the staff, who had witnessed their mistress being duped more than once.
The quickest way to earn trust, Sidney had advised her, was to pretend she wanted nothing.
His advice worked. The more Hannah refused the countess' offers of new dresses, baubles, and trinkets, the more determined she was to try shower them upon her. The more Hannah refused to entertain the notion that she might be Anastasia, the more determined Lady Lansdowne became that she was.
It was all working well, apart from one thing...
Hawkfield.
Hannah shivered as she recalled the duke's stormy-blue eyes, his sharp scent, and his overwhelming presence. She had anticipated that their paths might cross, but she had not--for one moment--thought that they would be thrust so close together.
The brief glance which she had stolen on the night of Lady Jersey's ball, did not now seem worth it, even if he had been her first kiss. True, he had not appeared to recognise her, but something in the way that he had looked at her, had made Hannah think that given enough time, he would.
And then she would be doomed; for Hawkfield had made it blatantly obvious that he already did not trust her. When he put two and two together, and realised that she was his thief, he would summon the Bow-Street Runners and have her hauled to Newgate.
A momentary jolt of fear shot through her, but Hannah ignored it. She would just have to do her best to avoid him, until she had learned where Lady Lansdowne kept her treasures.
"You're up early," Gibbons commented, as Hannah arrived downstairs.
"Nine o'clock's not early in my book," she answered, as she pushed all thoughts of the duke and his generous, sulky mouth from her mind.
"I think I shall take Bonbon out for a walk," she added, causing Gibbons to smile.
"You don't need to explain yourself to me, m'dear," the maid replied, cheerfully, "You may come and go as you please. You don't even need to bring the mutt with you, one of the footmen will have taken him out already."
"I want to," Hannah insisted. Despite their calamitous introduction, where the poodle had knocked her over, Hannah had grown fond of Bonbon. In St Giles', the canine inhabitants were mangy and prone to biting, but here in Grosvenor Square, they lived like kings. Bonbon slept upon a satin pillow, had his own footman dedicated to his grooming and exercise, and could perform an endless number of amusing tricks. He was also, despite his regal appearance, a lovable fool, who accepted Hannah as she was. It was a relief, with all her pretending, to have some company with whom she could be herself.
After taking a quick breakfast of steaming hot-chocolate and abriochebun, Hannah fetched Bonbon and made for the park.
She entered Hyde Park by the gate at Upper Brook Street, which led to the Parade Grounds, which were filled with gentlemen out riding. Hannah followed the leafy path which led down to the banks of the Serpentine, her mind at ease as she watched Bonbon gambol along, sniffing at anything which caught his attention.
A merchant sailor who had once stayed at the boarding house, many moons ago, had explained to Hannah the concept of reincarnation. If she were to come back in another life, Hannah thought, as she watched the poodle's tail wag merrily, there would be worse things to come back as than a dog.
She was idly wondering what type of dog she might be in her hypothetical next life, when a tug on the back of her dress pulled her back to the present.
"Yes?" Hannah questioned, to the ragged-child who stood behind her, "You'll have no luck with me, I'm afraid. I haven't a groat to my name."
"I ain't begging," the boy replied, casting her a resentful glare, "Mr Pritchard sent me. 'E wants to know 'ave you any news for 'im?"
"Does he have you spying on me?" Hannah questioned, irritation flaring in her belly. The lush environment of Mayfair had lulled Hannah into a false sense of security; it made her shiver to think that, even here, Sidney had his eyes on her.
"'E wants to know 'ave you news?" the young-lad--one of Sidney's many street-Arabs--pressed, his voice full of anger for one so young.
"Watch your tone with me or I'll clip your ear," Hannah replied, mildly, "Tell Sid that everything is going as he predicted, but that I have not yet found what he wants. I need more time."
"'Ow much time?" came the insolent reply.
"That's for me to decide," Hannah replied hotly, truly vexed with him now. The children of St Giles' were a law unto themselves and did not subscribe to the view that they should respect their elders. The only thing they respected was fear and the only person capable of inspiring that in them was Sidney.
"'E'll ask me 'ow long," the ruffian protested, wiping his nose with a grimy hand.
Hannah placed her hands on her hips and was about to offer him some choice Seven Dials' phrases as a set down, when a concerned voice interrupted them.
"Is everything alright, Miss Blackmore? Is this child bothering you? Be off boy, before I take my whip to you."
