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“Nor anyone else,” she said softly. “That is equally important.”

Samuel’s eyes met hers, and something in their depths caused her breath to catch, but before she could ascertain what it meant, her father cleared his throat.

“You and the rest of Fielding’s men are to be commended for your actions last night, Ross.”

“Thank you, sir.” Samuel straightened in his chair, unaccountably and yet noticeably more tense than he had been moments before. “If I may, I had also hoped to broach another matter with you.”

“Of course.” Her father gave him a penetrating look. “Do you wish to speak with me alone?”

Samuel hesitated, and Hannah could not deny the disappointment that instantly settled upon her. She had hoped that he had come to see her rather than her father. Assuming a polite expression, she started to rise to excuse herself, but Samuel stopped her.

“Would you stay, Hannah?” he asked. “What I have to say impacts you more than anyone else.”

Samuel watched Hannah resume her seat, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest. Had he done the right thing? He knew that it was customary to ask a young lady’s father for her hand in a private meeting, but sending Hannah away had felt all wrong. She already knew most of what he intended to tell Dennington, and the information about Captain Lund’s will was something she needed to hear.

“Very well, Ross,” Dennington said. “What is on your mind?”

Though he was tempted to begin by recounting his meeting with Cantrell, Samuel knew that his present good fortune could never fully expunge his past. No matter how much he desired Hannah in his life, he could not live a lie. He must fully reveal his history to Dennington if he ever hoped to have a future with his daughter. “I am not who you think I am,” he said.

Dennington raised an eyebrow. “And who is that?”

“A former naval officer and a Bow Street principal officer.”

“Do you intend to tell me that you are not those things?”

“No,” Samuel said. “I am both.” He paused, all too aware of what his next confession could cost him. “I am also an orphaned street urchin who, in order to survive childhood, turned to pickpocketing.”

For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Samuel did not dare look at Hannah. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed upon her father.

A muscle twitched in Dennington’s jaw. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I am not proud of my past, but I willingly acknowledge that it has made me the man I am today. Because I know deceit, I value honesty; because I have associated with those of ill-repute, I more fully appreciate the virtue of honor.”

“Noble sentiments,” Dennington said. “And yet I find it hard to believe that you intend to spread word of your ignominious past far and wide.”

“No, sir. Beyond Sir John and a couple of his men, I have told only you and Hannah.”

Dennington swung to face his daughter. “You knew this already?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

For the first time since he’d begun this difficult conversation, Samuel allowed himself to look at Hannah. Her beautiful eyes were filled with unshed tears, and Samuel’s stomach clenched. Were they tears of regret?

“The memory was faint,” she said, “but I recognized Samuel’s gray eyes and the scar on his hand.”

Dennington’s head whipped back to face Samuel. His shocked countenance brought with it new insight: Dennington had not been noticeably disconcerted by Samuel’s confession, but this more personal connection had stunned him. “The boy with the pocket watch at Bailey’s Pawnshop,” Dennington breathed.

Forcing himself to hold his head high, Samuel nodded. “Yes, sir. You have repeatedly thanked me for saving Hannah’s life, but the truth is, she was the first of us to initiate a rescue. Her courage to speak out in that shop all those years ago saved me.”

Dennington ran a hand across his face. It did little to erase his haggard expression. “I am well aware that Fielding often hires men with somewhat disreputable backgrounds. But to have interacted with you during that time period . . .” He shook his head helplessly. “My dear Hannah, why did you not say something—do something—when you uncovered this fateful truth?”

“I did do something.” A single tear broke free from her watery eyes and ran down her cheek. “I am ashamed to admit that I sent him away.”

Knowing that, once again, he was the cause of Hannah’s tears was a new form of torture—one Samuel would not be able to endure much longer. “Hannah was right to act as she did, sir. I deserved nothing less. That actuality has not changed. But by God’s grace, she has seen fit to forgive me for the pain I unintentionally caused her. She is, without doubt, the most remarkable young lady I have ever known, and I have fallen deeply in love with her.” He heard Hannah’s gasp even as Dennington’s eyes widened. But Samuel had come too far to stop now. “Though I am fully aware that I will never be her equal in most things, I give you my word that if you would grant me her hand in marriage, I will cherish, love, and protect her until the day that I die.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Dennington eyed him in stony silence. Samuel scarcely dared to breathe. He had fully exposed his heart, and he did not know how to protect it from what might come next.

“I have sent away fortune hunters before, Ross,” Dennington warned. “And I will not hesitate to do it again.”