kiss came back full force. What a flood of sensations had come over her with that kiss. Was that what it was supposed to be like? One thing was certain. She wanted to talk to him about it. And she wanted another one.
But of that, Grandfather would not approve. She did, however, need to keep her appointment with the hypnotist. Opening her secretary, she withdrew a sheet of paper and dashed off the words Appointment. Hypnotist. Ten o’clock.
Grandfather frowned. “I haven’t forgotten, but I regret now giving you leave to go. That man is not a physician. I find it distasteful to visit his establishment, to be seen in his part of town.”
No! Grandfather mustn’t change his mind! She had to see the hypnotist! Quickly she wrote Edward’s name.
“It’s not a matter of who will accompany you. This person is no more than a carnival charlatan—a waste of time. With further consideration, I cannot allow you to keep your appointment.”
The thought flitted through her mind that he sounded much like Caleb had in his assessment of the hypnotist—a similarity she refused to dwell on at the moment. She had to go, had to try, no matter how slight the chance it would work.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow, after you have time to consider your actions and how they’ve disgraced the family.”
Grandfather was nearly to the door. She tugged at his arm.
He looked down at her, his mouth a firm line of disapproval. She’d seen that expression a number of times over the years since coming to live with him and Grandmother Rose. Nothing she did would change his mind.
Then, as she watched, the resolve on his face shifted.
She stepped back, unsure what this might mean.
“Your mother was the same, you know,” he said. “Impulsive. Headstrong. I had hoped you would not take after her in that regard.”
Her mother? He never spoke of her. That he said anything emphasized how upset she’d made him. She’d been three years old when Mother drowned—and she had stopped speaking. At least that was what Stuart had told her when she was old enough to understand. As much as she would have liked to remember her mother, she couldn’t. Her memories started at the lighthouse with Stuart taking care of her.
Grandfather sighed and patted her arm. “I don’t wish to do this, you know—punish you like a young schoolgirl. Not at your age.” He moved back to the window seat and sat, hands on his knees, and stared at the floor—a sign he was deep in thought.
The quiet between them filled with impending heaviness. Her breathing grew shallow, until the air in her lungs ceased entering or leaving. She dared not move. This was too important. Everything seemed to hang in the balance of what he would say next.
Finally, he looked up and narrowed his gaze on her. “Therefore, I have a proposition.”
* * *
Three days later, Caleb knocked on the door of the estate and asked for Hannah.
“Wait here,” the butler instructed. He didn’t bother inviting Caleb inside but shut the door in his face.
Caleb blew out a long breath. Guess he’d worn out his welcome in one fell swoop. Could be that the whales would start their trip south before he’d see Hannah now.
He paced along the top of the marble steps. Twice, he thought about leaving, despite the fact he’d thought of little else but Hannah for the past three days. It was that kiss. Whether he liked it or not, kissin’ her had changed things between them. He felt—different now. A surprise, considering he’d known her all his life. Concerning, too. And he didn’t want to think any further along those lines until he spoke with her.
He viewed the rose garden and lawn twenty feet below the low ornamental railing and resigned himself to waiting as long as it would take. He’d meant to come by sooner—two days ago to be exact—but it couldn’t be helped. Babies come on their own timetable without any consideration for the knots they might tangle in everyone else’s schedules. His nephew, Lawrence, had squalled his way out and demanded every minute of his time while Stuart and the midwife tended Rachel. She’d had a rough go of it. Even now, thinking on it made his stomach clench.
The door hinge creaked and immediately he turned. “Hannah—” She wasn’t alone. Her grandfather stood beside her, creating a chill in the air just by his presence. “Mr. Lansing.”
Dorian didn’t bother to acknowledge him.
“I couldn’t come sooner. Rachel had a boy. She’s fine—they’re both fine.” He stopped talking. Hannah looked as if she might be ill—or exhausted. There was a bruised, fragile look to her eyes, and she had trouble meeting his gaze. His breath left him in a whoosh of disappointment. She wasn’t speaking. That was what the problem was. She’d had her hopes up so high. Too high.
He started toward her—not quite sure what to do, what to say. He wasn’t exactly the “cry on my shoulder” type, but he had to do something.
She stiffened, clearly erecting an invisible barrier between them.
He stopped, curling his hands into fists at his sides to keep from reaching for her, whether to hug her or shake her, he wasn’t sure. Hadn’t he told her it was a long shot? Hadn’t he warned her not to get her hopes up? “It didn’t work,” he said flatly.
She looked down to the slab of white marble at her feet.
He’d bet two shiploads of gold that she’d done this because of Dorian. The man steadfastly refused to learn the sign language. Over and over, Hannah put herself through agony because she wanted to communicate with him, and all the while Dorian didn’t even try to understand.
A body couldn’t keep warding off disappointment time after time without growing bitter.
Finally, she met his gaze. I can’t see you anymore, Caleb.
That wasn’t what he expected. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head, a pained expression on her face.
Suddenly worried, he stepped toward her. “Did something happen at the hypnotist? Did he hurt you?”
She moved away until her back flattened against the great oak door. No. I’m fine.
Well, that was a lie. He waited for her to go on.
Things have changed since I saw you last.
It had to be that kiss. He darted a look at Dorian, a few feet away. It wasn’t hard to figure that the ocean would turn red before that man would give them a sliver of privacy.
She twisted a handkerchief in her hand.
“I’ll come back in a few days—when you are feeling better.”
No. Don’t come. I can’t see you anymore, Caleb. Not ever.
He tightened his jaw. “You’re not makin’ sense. If it’s the kiss that’s botherin’ you...”
You shouldn’t have done that.
A slow burn started in his gut. “As I recall, you were the one doing most of the asking.”
No. I’m sure you are wrong.
So that was how things stood. She couldn’t own up to her actions. She was embarrassed about being forward, and instead of admitting it or dealing with it, she was trying to put the blame firmly in his lap.
He glanced at Dorian, wishing the man would disappear so he could talk easier with Hannah. Now, that was a fantasy. He swallowed. “This is how you want it?”
She nodded, not quite meeting his gaze.
He took one last considering look. They both knew she was twisting the facts, but she’d made her choice. He should have been ready for it. People he cared about had been leavin’ him