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Unmoving, Philo’s stare darkened in the center, his stance strangely relaxed. “Your tenacity does you credit. But your ignorance does not.”
She stood firm against the verbal blow.
“That man is, and always will be, unworthy of you. I tried to warn you, to save you years ago, but still you have a weakness for him. For all I know, ’twas you who put my brother up to this. Do you not remember how he left you? He wasn’t the marrying kind then, and he won’t be now. That sort of person thinks only of himself and none other.”
Hannah stepped aside as a signal for him to leave, but she was not quick enough to escape the fiery path of his words. They hit and burned deep through her skin to scar her tender spirit.
She motioned to the door, her throat so bulged with emotion she hadn’t the capacity to speak.
With a nod, he started for the exit, slowing as he passed her, such a tangle of emotions in his eyes she couldn’t begin to unravel them. Disdain? Anger? Sorrow, perhaps? Regret? Nay, the last was a figment of her hurting soul.
He placed his hat on his head and peered back over his shoulder as he opened the door. “You are not to be rid of me so easily.” Said with jest more than anything else, he nodded and stepped out. “Good-bye, Hannah.”
The door closed, cutting off the last of her strength. She reached for the chair at her side, her lungs heaving for the air she’d denied them. Awash with questions, her mind hung heavy like a sopping garment. Had Joseph really bought Eaton Hill? Why had he not told her? Hannah quickly replayed Ensign’s promise that he’d sold to an honorable, just man who would care for the land and foundry as he had. In truth, she knew few others who fit the description as well as Joseph. And yet…
Her father’s words drilled through her ears like a burrowing insect. Do you not remember how he left you? That sort of person thinks only of himself…
The words circled her heart like wolves around their prey. Hurrying to the stairs, she pulled her skirts to her ankles and raced for the safety of her room, slamming the door behind her.
She stared at the dressing table at the opposite side of the room. It seemed to beckon her, oblivious to the turmoil that writhed within. The treasures it harbored whispered her near, but she would not allow herself to bring to life the pains that now clawed at her.
Joseph had left her. That truth would never fade. He had not known of the child she bore or the pain she’d suffered. Would knowing of their son have even changed his mind?
Tears burned hard at the back of her eyes, spilling over her cheeks and down her neck. S
he breathed through clenched teeth. Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps she hadn’t changed at all. Perhaps she was still as blind and foolish as she had ever been.
Chapter Twenty-One
Joseph finished the last barrel, dunking the molded iron into the water, its hissing and wheezing a melody to his ears. Sackett and Deane were beginning to slow, their day nearly as long as his.
“Enough for today.” He put back his iron and tipped his head to the door. “Get back and rest. Tomorrow shall be equally demanding.”
A pair of sighs heaved through the room as the men placed their tools on the bench. Sackett nodded, smiling. Deane did the same, both of them talking between themselves, mounting their horses and hurrying to the food and warmth that awaited two miles away.
Joseph glanced through the partially open door to the light in the kitchen window, the pleasant sensations in his chest stealing the concentration he needed to tidy shop and prepare for the night. He’d not felt this way since…since her.
After arranging the tools the others had laid haphazardly on the table, he left, securing the latch on the door. His legs wished to race him across the yard, but he resisted. Peering quickly through the window, he noted the lack of Stockton, Higley, or Reece. Or Hannah. She must be upstairs.
He entered through the back, grateful the house was empty. He needed a wash, and desperately. Hurrying up to his room, he pulled his soiled shirt over his head and poured a generous amount of water into the porcelain basin on the table and scrubbed, the scent of the fresh soap a pleasant change to the smoke and grime he’d been covered with throughout the day. No woman wanted to converse with a man that smelled of soot and sweat. Almost deciding against it, he hurriedly washed his hair, content now that he was presentable. He dried thoroughly and snatched a clean shirt from the drawer but halted before pulling it on. A line of fine new stitches graced the edge of the collar. He’d seen the fraying but hadn’t known what to do.
Like the delightful touch of new petals in spring, somewhere deep within him, a sweet softness began, spraying tickles over his skin. She had done this for him. Glancing across his shoulder, Joseph peered to the door. Was he even worthy of her? What made him think she would ignore the mountainous past that rose between them? He was willing to scale any height for another chance. And if she was willing, he could hold her hand—carry her if she needed—every step of the way, for surely the view from the top was far more beautiful than they could ever imagine.
A slow breath lulled him back to his task, and he slipped the soft linen over his head and snatched his fresh breeches and stockings, tucking and buttoning everything in place. Feeling even more stirred, he thought of the evening to come. She’d not denied his request to sit with him by the fire. ’Twas a step forward, was it not?
Brushing and securing his hair behind his head, he peered into the mirror one last time, then hurried into the hall, surprised that Hannah’s door was still closed. Perhaps she’d already gone down.
“Joseph?”
‘Twas Stockton’s voice. He had taken to calling Joseph by his first name, and Joseph could only hope he didn’t take such liberties with Hannah.
“Aye, sir?”
He went downstairs and entered the parlor just as Stockton exited his room, his scarlet jacket shed.
“Ready for supper?” Glancing to the kitchen, Stockton’s face puckered. “Is your cousin not joining us?”
Joseph spun around to inspect what befuddled him. The table was set, the food in the center, but Hannah was still not at her regular perch beside the fire.
