The Earl's Honorable Intentions Read Online Free PDF Page A

moved, she could tell he was weaker than he’d realized, and perhaps light-headed, as well.
    “Don’t just stand there.” He seemed vexed at being forced to ask for help. “A little assistance, if you please.”
    “Of course, sir.” His request brought Hannah a flicker of satisfaction, but she took care to conceal it. Instead, she set the cup on a nearby table, then slipped her arm beneath his for support.
    Several times during the past days, she had lifted the earl’s head to give him a drink and thought nothing of it. Now that he was aware of the contact between them, she found herself intensely conscious of it, as well. With an awkward effort, she adjusted his pillows, then helped him lean back on them.
    When she offered him the spouted invalid cup, his lip curled. “I would prefer to eat by spoon from a proper bowl.”
    Keeping her mouth firmly shut, Hannah poured the broth into a bowl and fetched his lordship a spoon. Then she stood back and watched him try to feed himself. As he raised the spoon to his lips, his hand trembled. Some of the beef tea spilled onto the breast of his nightshirt.
    He muttered something under his breath.
    “Would you like my help, sir?” she inquired.
    “I can manage.”
    He persisted, though Hannah wondered whether he was getting more beef tea on his nightshirt than into his stomach. Exasperated as she was with his stubborn independence, she could not help but admire it, just a little.
    She did not want to admire anything about the Earl of Hawkehurst, Hannah reminded herself. She had cared for him well, perhaps even tenderly, while his survival was in doubt, forgetting the veiled tension that had existed between them and all the complaints her poor mistress had voiced about him. Now that he was awake, gruff and obstinate as ever, she could no longer forget.
    “Now that you have inquired about the military situation, perhaps you would care to know how your children are faring.” She sank back down onto the chair beside his lordship’s bed, her spine stiff as a poker.
    “My children. ” The earl lingered over that word as if it referred to something strange and possibly frightening. “Your letter arrived just as my regiment was summoned from Nivelle. We were obliged to ride through the night to Waterloo. I did not have an opportunity to read your message until before the battle. By then it was too late to...”
    His voice trailed off, and for the next few moments he concentrated on spooning the broth into his mouth as if his life depended on it.
    Did he expect some response from her? Hannah sat stubbornly mute. Clearly she had been wrong to assume Lord Hawkehurst had ignored her summons to his wife’s deathbed. Still she could not bring herself to say anything to assuage his conscience. It was up to God to forgive him, not her.
    Finally his lordship broke the brittle silence that had descended between them. “I tucked your letter into my sabretache before the charge. It must still be there.”
    Must he bring everything back to military subjects? Hannah pressed her lips tightly together to keep from saying something she might regret. No matter what her opinion of the man, she must try not to aggravate the friction between them or he might decide to engage a more congenial governess for his children.
    “Twins.” The spoon in his hand trembled again. Had he overtaxed his strength already? “A boy and a girl, I believe you wrote.”
    “That is correct, sir. Her ladyship asked to have them christened Alice and Arthur. In honor of her late mother and His Grace the Duke of Wellington.” A lump rose in Hannah’s throat as she recalled the vicar performing the sacrament at the bedside of the children’s dying mother.
    When she managed to get her voice under control, she added, “Her ladyship asked me to stand as their godmother.”
    Though she was able to keep her voice from quavering, Hannah could not prevent a note of defiance from creeping into her tone. Being a godparent