Page 34 of Anastasia and the Duke
"I'm afraid I cannot concentrate," Hannah admitted, turning her eyes towards his.
"Nor I."
There was no mistaking the intent behind Hawkfield's words, as desire flared in his eyes. A desire which Hannah felt replicate tenfold in her stomach, where a thousand butterflies had taken flight. How was it possible for a man to be so handsome, Hannah wondered, as she took in his strong jaw, Roman nose, and the sulky mouth which had once kissed her.
A cheer from the crowd, as a particularly blood-thirsty scene came to an end, distracted Hannah from her enchantment, and she turned her eyes back to the stage, aghast at how openly she had been staring.
Shame kept her eyes turned forward for the remainder of the first half and when Hawkfield departed to fetch refreshments for the ladies, Hannah felt her shoulders sag with relief.
"Enjoying the play, dear?" Lady Lansdowne queried, innocently.
"You seemed a tad distracted, child," the duchess added, with a wicked cackle.
"I believe you are supposed to heckle the actors, not the audience," Hannah replied, though her bullish retort merely pushed the two ladies to further mirth.
"Oh, don't be upset, my dear. It is wonderful to watch young love play out before us," the duchess answered, unrepentant, "Do you know, all this fun has made me restless, I think I shall take a walk to stretch my legs."
"I'll join you," Lady Lansdowne decided, jumping to her feet with remarkable speed, "You stay here, Hannah, and mind our reticules."
"I could join you and carry them," Hannah protested, but the two ladies paid her no mind and disappeared through the curtain.
"Wonderful," Hannah huffed, casting a nervous eye at the curtain through which the two ladies had departed. It was obvious--for they had been none too subtle--that the ladies wished to offer Hannah and Hawkfield a moment alone for atête-à-tête.
The duke granted his grandmother and Lady Lansdowne's wishes, by returning a few minutes later to find Hannah still seated alone.
"They went to stretch their legs, your Grace," Hannah offered, by way of explanation for their absence.
"Of course they did," Hawkfield was dry, "If you are uncomfortable being alone with me, Miss Blackmore, I am happy to wait outside until they return."
"My, that would be a sight," Hannah managed a smile, "A duke standing sentry at the door, guarding an orphan of no consequence."
"You are not of no consequence," he replied, placing the tray of glasses he carried down on the table. He offered Hannah a glass, which she accepted, grateful to have something to do with her hands.
"It was a joke, your Grace," she replied, after taking a sip of the bitter lemonade, "I was not fishing for compliments."
"I did not think you were," Hawkfield levelled her with a knowing gaze, "I simply wished to state that you are of consequence, Miss Blackmore. To Lady Lansdowne, and to me."
Hannah, who had taken another sip of her drink, spluttered with shock at his bold declaration.
"Thank you, your Grace," she stuttered, as she fumbled for the words to form an adequate reply, "But you cannot mean that; you do not know me, not truly."
"I feel as if I do," Hawkfield shrugged, as he reached out a hand to take hers, "And I would like to learn more, if you will let me."
"There is nothing to learn," Hannah replied, feeling suddenly sad, "I am no one, I come from no one..."
"That's not true," Hawkfield said sharply, his grip of her hand suddenly tight, "You must remember something of your parents; I was also young when my parents died, yet I can still recall them if I try."
Hannah blinked, as she realised that she and the duke had more in common than she had first believed. She had not known he was an orphan and had presumed his parents to be safely ensconced on some estate in the country. The realisation that Hawkfield also carried the burden of grief for parents he would never know, made him all the more endearing.
No wonder he was prickly, Hannah thought with a smile, for, just like she, he had been thrust into the world of adulthood too soon.
"Go on," he prompted, still holding her hand, "Just try."
Hannah closed her eyes, feeling somewhat silly, and tried to conjure up the images of her parents that she had kept close to her as a child. Sidney's cruel words and the harsh understanding of how the world worked, had locked them away in her mind, but as she held her breath and willed, they came tumbling back.
A beautiful woman, with locks as red as Hannah's own, stroking her cheek. The masculine smell of tobacco and leather and the feel of her small hand in one much larger. The sound of three people laughing, the scent of lavender, and feel of the warm sun kissing her skin as she played in the grass with two unseen figures...
Hannah's eyes flew open, for the images had been so real that she could almost feel the grass beneath her feet.
