16. Pretending

If Hannibal had been asked who had been the more surprised to find him on the Crawfords’ doorstep, Will’s relations or himself, he would have been hard-pressed to determine.

At one time, the mere suggestion that he might be persuaded to involve himself again in Matthew Brown’s affairs would have been met with exceedingly short shrift. But this was different. This was about Will. His lover’s devastation at the turn of events had been motivation enough for him to sweep aside all of his prideful reservations. And although Will might never forgive him for the ignominy that had been heaped on his family, still Hannibal had to try to make amends.

‘It was Miss Verger who suggested that Mrs Hobbs would be a logical contact for the couple,’ he explained, accepting with gratitude a cup of tea from Mrs Crawford’s elegant hand.

Dust and grime and smog had seeped into his skin and coated his clothes, the inevitable consequence of walking for days from one grim, industrialised district to another.

‘Given her past association with Mr Brown, I am amazed that I did not think of it immediately.’

‘Possibly your thoughts were engaged elsewhere.’

The gentleness of Mrs Crawford’s smile disarmed him, softening his instinctive indignation at such presumption to mild dismay.

‘Possibly. In any case, once I had located Mrs Hobbs’ boarding house, it was a simple enough task to establish that Mr Brown had, indeed, made his whereabouts known to her.’

‘She gave him up so easily?’

Hannibal shook his head, the very memory distasteful. ‘She gave him up for a price.’

‘And you went straight to his lodgings?’

‘I did. It was not the most salubrious of neighbourhoods and I thought it best to attempt your niece’s removal at once.’

‘Yet she has not returned with you.’

He paused, considering how much of his interview with Abigail Graham he should reveal. It had been illuminating, certainly, but he little relished the idea of giving pain to these decent people.

‘Miss Graham, I urge you to come away with me now. Allow me, please, to return you to your family. They are naturally most anxious for your safety.’

Sitting in the shabby armchair which was the only other piece of furniture in the room other than a small desk and a large, unmade bed, Abigail Graham looked back at him unblinkingly.

‘Well, they should not be. I am perfectly capable of shifting for myself. Ask Mama! Besides, I am happy here, and I would not leave my dear Matthew for the world.’

Standing with arms folded, feeling for once utterly helpless, Hannibal searched the girl’s features for any sign of concealed distress and found none.

‘And the fact that you are living with him, unmarried, does not concern you?’

‘Oh, la!’ she laughed, primly straightening the lace tuck which barely covered the low décolletage of her plain cotton dress. ‘We shall be married some time or other, I daresay, and why should it signify when?’

‘I see.’ Mrs Crawford’s eyes were shadowed by deep disappointment.

Her husband placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘Thank you for being so frank with us, Mr Lecter. You spoke also with Mr Brown, I presume?’

‘One can only wonder at the hold the Grahams must have over you, Hannibal, that you deign to stoop so low.’

Ignoring the Alpha’s posturing, Hannibal pinned him beneath an icy stare.

‘Why did you do it? Why run? And why take with you a girl for whom you clearly have little true feeling.’

‘True feeling?’ sneered Matthew Brown. ‘What know you of such a thing? You, who have ever scorned the idea of love as mere weakness and folly?’

‘You do not know me at all, do you?’ mused Hannibal, entirely unaffected by his childhood companion’s outburst. ‘You never did. What I scorned was that which you have indulged in, tired of and cast off with regularity since even before you came of age. That is not love, Matthew. That is infatuation. It is what I sought to save my sister from. And it is the reason I had hoped to extricate Miss Graham, though I see now that I am too late.’

Glancing past Hannibal to the closed door, Matthew lowered his voice to a vicious whisper. ‘Abigail Graham is not the innocent little ingénue you would paint her as. She made the choice to come – practically foisted herself on me, if truth be told.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Well, it was hardly convenient. I was obliged to leave the regiment on account of some... pressing debts, a situation which I intended to remedy here in town.’

‘At the card table, I presume.’ Hannibal regarded Matthew with weary disdain. ‘It seems you never learn.’

‘My luck would have turned, I know it,’ he shot back. ‘I would soon have made good my accounts. Instead, I find myself playing the fugitive.’ Sourly, he picked at his fingernails. ‘I admit Miss Graham’s company has proven diverting enough, but marriage? I think not. Her father is not in a position to provide adequate compensation for such loss of freedom.’ His eyes sparkled with malice as he added, ‘Had he been so, I would have bedded and wedded that delicious Omega son of his long ago.’

Never in his life had Hannibal struck another being in anger; but as he stood over the felled body of Matthew Brown, nursing throbbing knuckles, he considered with savage satisfaction the therapeutic benefits of such a course.

‘It is now your turn to listen, Mr Brown. Were it not for the young lady in the room yonder, I would take great pleasure in thrashing the living daylights out of you and throwing you into the nearest gutter.’

‘Is that so?’ Wiping blood from his rapidly swelling lip, the sullen Alpha stared at the floor. ‘Tell me then, what plans do you have in substitution?’

Hannibal stepped closer, the toe of his boot inches from that handsome, surly face.

‘Oh, nothing that you shall find too onerous. I intend to purchase a suitable commission for you in a regiment far from here – Colonel Chilton will no doubt be able to advise me. I shall discharge your debts. And I shall settle upon Miss Graham the sum of one thousand pounds, in addition to the annuity which I am sure her father will agree to, upon her marriage.’

‘So generous, Hannibal. And in my turn?’ Matthew fairly hissed, resentment oozing from every syllable.

‘In your turn,’ clipped Hannibal, fixing upon him eyes filled with scorching contempt, ‘you shall agree to be nothing less than a devoted and faithful husband. You shall no longer indulge in gaming. You shall not attend parties without your spouse being present. You shall, in short, be an upstanding and useful member of society for the remainder of your days.’

Complexion livid, Matthew scrambled to his feet. ‘And if I should decide to brave your displeasure?’

‘I would advise against it,’ replied Hannibal, almost gently. ‘Do not be brave, Matthew. It suits you ill. If you choose to ignore my warnings, injuring Miss Graham – and by extension her family – in the process, then you should know that there is nowhere you could hide that I would not find you. The Lecter reach is long, as you would discover to your cost.’

‘Enough.’ The dishevelled, defeated Alpha held up his hands. ‘I understand. And I agree to your terms.’

Hannibal nodded, smile grim. ‘I thought that you might.’

‘Oh yes, I spoke with Mr Brown.’

***

And so you see, Will, Mr Lecter is responsible for all that has transpired to mend Abigail’s fortune. He insists that it was his mistaken pride that made it possible for Mr Brown to so deceive everyone, and has demanded that Mr Crawford take the credit for bringing about the marriage. This, as you can imagine, has caused your uncle much perturbation; but as I have stated already, your young man is very stubborn and will not be denied!

One final word – I hope that you will grant us leave next summer to take a tour all around the park in that charming little curricle. Ravenstag is, you will own, far too large to be explored fully on foot.

Your ever loving aunt.

Will sat for several minutes turning the letter over and over in his hands, staring at the pages. Mrs Crawford’s teasing aside, he scarce knew what to think or how to feel.

Hannibal had pursued Mr Brown and attempted to rescue Abigail. He had arranged their wedding and borne the entirety of the expense himself, to say nothing of the money he had laid down to secure the couple’s future.

Was all of this for me?

His heart ached sweetly at the thought, yet doubt crept in as he reminded himself of the loathing with which Hannibal had always spoken of Matthew Brown. How could it be possible that he would willingly attach himself to a family which now included the man he hated most in the world? Will pulled from his pocket Hannibal’s letter, unfolding it carefully, the pages now worn and increasingly fragile. Although he knew its contents by heart, he read again the portion pertaining to Mr Brown.

‘I came to the realisation that within Matthew there lurked something vicious and savage – propensities which would have horrified both his father and mine.’

‘...while I was prepared to risk gossip and innuendo on my own behalf, I could not endure the thought of those closest to me suffering...’

Hannibal’s protectiveness of his loved ones and his legacy was unquestionable; and certainly it was conceivable that he had gone to such lengths in order to right a wrong which, if left unchecked, could have been regarded as a stain on his family’s honour. But whatever the case, Hannibal had undoubtedly saved the Graham family from ruin, and without any intention of claiming the credit for having so done.

Never had Will been more proud of him. Never had he loved him more desperately.

He was roused from his tumultuous thoughts by the approach of Mr Brown, who picked his way through the long grass with the slightly dismayed air of one far more comfortable on a city street. He eyed the letters in Will’s hands with open curiosity, and at once Will folded them up and slipped them into his pocket.

‘Do I disturb you, dear brother?’ asked Mr Brown with an uneasy smile.

‘You do,’ replied Will shortly, rising to give a cursory bow. ‘But I daresay I shall weather the interruption. We have borne far worse lately.’

Only the slight twitch of an eye betrayed Mr Brown’s annoyance. He was otherwise his usual smooth, plausible self as quickly he changed the subject.

‘Our uncle and aunt have informed me that you visited Ravenstag on your travels.’

Our?

It was now Will’s turn to quash feelings of annoyance. For this insufferable man to refer so to the Crawfords...

‘We did. It is a beautiful estate.’

Determinedly, he kept the wistfulness from his voice. The memories he cherished of those days were not to be sullied by being shared with such as Matthew Brown.

‘I should like to see it again myself,’ Mr Brown said pensively, ‘yet I fear that the experience would prove overwhelming. You saw old Marlow, I suppose, the housekeeper? She was ever my champion, although I daresay she would have found it too painful to talk of me.’

‘As a matter of fact, Mrs Marlow did mention you once or twice.’

Will increased his pace, eager to be rid of his companion.

‘Really? What did she say?’

Frowning, Will pretended to think. ‘I believe it was something along the lines of, ‘He is now gone into the army, but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.’’

‘Dear Marlow.’ Mr Brown’s forced laugh was wholly unconvincing. ‘How she does love to tease.’

‘Hm.’

At the door of the house, Will stopped and turned to the red-faced Alpha.

‘Allow me to make something clear, Mr Brown. While it is true that we are now brothers-in-law, we shall never be friends.’

‘Oh, come now –‘

Hand raised to silence further protests, Will continued, ‘I shall, of course, treat you with the respect due to my sister’s husband. But that is all.’ And he fixed the Alpha with solemn eyes. ‘For I know, you see. I know it all. Who you are and what you have done – to Miss Lecter as well as to my sister.’

‘I see.’ Face tight with anger, Mr Brown glanced down at Will’s pocket. ‘Doubtless someone has been spreading lies about me. Well, I am used to that. But to think that you would believe such scurrilous –’

‘Mr Brown,’ interrupted Will, smiling and shaking his head, ‘please do not go on. There really is no point in quarrelling about the past. We are, after all, family now. And I believe that we understand each other, do not we?’

‘Of – of course.’

They entered the house with Mr Brown looking as uneasy as Will had ever seen him, and he appeared surprisingly glad to reunite with his affectionate wife in the breakfast room.

Good then. She can stroke his hair and his ego, and he will appreciate her the more for it because the rest of us will not.

***

The day of the Browns’ departure arrived, none too soon for most of the household, although Mrs Graham spent a good portion of it wailing over the enforced separation from her favourite child.

‘Write to me very often, Abigail, dear.’

‘As often as I can. But you know,’ she said, smiling coquettishly at her husband, ‘married women have never much time for writing. My sisters and brother may write to me. They will have nothing else to do.’

Mr Brown’s farewells were rather more affectionate. He smiled, looked handsome and said many pretty things. It was all that Will could do not to roll his eyes to the heavens; but for Abigail’s sake he restrained himself, and accepted Mr Brown’s handshake with barely a shudder.

‘What a fellow,’ commented Mr Graham grimly, as the carriage containing the newlyweds departed down the drive. ‘He simpers and smirks and makes love to us all. I defy even Sir James Price himself to produce a more feckless son-in-law.’

And shaking his head, he turned and marched back into the house.

***

Although Mrs Graham’s spirits had been quashed considerably by Abigail’s departure, they received a boost a mere week later by a rumour that was circulating the neighbourhood of the Vergers’ imminent return to Muskrat Hall.

‘They shall be arriving in two days’ time, so the butcher tells me,’ announced Mrs Prurnell to her rapt audience, as she sat amidst the family in the drawing room. ‘For the shooting, you know. And they intend, by all accounts, to stay for several weeks!’

Seated beside his eldest sister, Will sought her hand and squeezed it in sympathy, although he did not look her way until their aunt and mother had left the room.

‘I am perfectly well,’ insisted Alana, as he turned to her with concerned eyes. ‘Truly, Will. I am quite over any feelings I had for Miss Verger. We shall probably not see her in any case, as they come for so short a time.’

‘If Father has his way, we shall not see either of them,’ commented Will, trying valiantly not to think about the possibility of a certain other person accompanying the Vergers to Hertfordshire. ‘How many times has he talked of last autumn’s visit to Muskrat Hall as a fool’s errand?’

‘For my part, I care not either way,’ Fredricka said sulkily, slumping back onto the sofa. ‘What are the Vergers next to officers in red coats? I hope the regiment shall be returning soon. It is deadly dull without them.’

Molly, sewing quietly in a corner, sighed. Alana clucked her tongue. Will stared, aghast.

‘Have not you learned anything from Abigail’s situation?’

Unblinking and unrepentant, Fredricka stared straight back.

‘Abi has got herself a handsome husband and a household of her own. She has done very well, I should say.’

***

Two days were not sufficient for Will’s dark reflections on the many failings of his family, yet he was forced from his introspections on the second morning by his mother’s piercing shrieks as she stood at the foot of the staircase.

‘Alana! Will! Fredricka! Molly! Come downstairs at once! Hurry!’

‘Good lord,’ muttered Will, buttoning his waistcoat hastily as he met Alana on the landing. ‘Do you think there is a fire?’

‘Under Mama, certainly,’ quipped his sister, and Will shot her an impressed look.

‘Very good. I shall make a social commentator of you yet.’

The two younger girls ran down after them, and all four were shooed into the breakfast room by their mother.

‘Quickly!’ she cried, all a-quiver. ‘Take up your embroidery, your books, your pencils! Miss Verger is coming!’ She bustled to the window. ‘What a fine seat she has. And such an elegant horse! But who is that man with her?’

Alana, seated at the table, took up her sketchpad with resolute calm. Will, unable to be quite so calm, went to the window, saw Miss Verger – and beside her, also on horseback, Hannibal – and promptly sat down on the nearest chair.

‘It is Mr Lecter, Mama.’

He felt Alana’s worried eyes on him, and wished fervently that he had confided in her about all that had happened in Derbyshire. But such revelations would have to wait. For now the outer door was opening, and at any moment he would once again be face to face with...

‘Mr Lecter and Miss Verger.’

Grabbing a book from the nearby bookcase, Will opened it with shaking hands and cast his eyes downward. The arrivals were ushered into the room, and Will bit back a whimper as Hannibal’s scent curled sweetly around his senses.

‘Miss Verger, what an honour it is to see you again,’ cried Mrs Graham, hurrying forward to greet her. ‘And Mr Lecter. How, er, good of you to come.’

Shame at his mother’s rudeness drove Will finally to look up, and colour flooded his cheeks as his eyes instantly met Hannibal’s. The Alpha’s gaze upon him was steadfast, yet to his frustration Will could not divine the expression in those beautiful golden eyes. Their inscrutability reminded him with a sinking heart of the earliest days of their acquaintance, and with a frown he broke the connection to study instead his sister and Miss Verger.

The latter was being manoeuvred by Mrs Graham – with a distinct lack of subtlety – to sit beside Alana, and the pair looked both pleased and embarrassed by these machinations. Mrs Graham then seated herself on the sofa with her remaining two daughters, and Will was mortified by the realisation that Hannibal had been left to shift for himself.

Mortification was followed swiftly by confusion, as the Alpha eschewed the one remaining chair by the door in favour of coming to stand by Will.

‘How do you do?’

His voice, like rough velvet, shivered through Will. After so long without hearing it, he was greedy for more, and could scarce gather his wits enough to respond.

‘I am well, thank you.’

In another place, at another time, I would have stretched out my hands and pulled you toward me. I would have pressed my cheek against your stomach and wrapped my arms around your waist. In another place, at another time...

‘And Mr and Mrs Crawford?’

‘They – are well, too, so I believe.’

Teasing, teasing man! You would know better than I!

Hannibal watched Will’s expression change yet again, from wistfulness to irritation, and wished for the half dozenth time that this meeting could have taken place in private. But Margot had asked for his support; and weighed down by the knowledge that he had still to confess his past interference in her affairs, it had not been in his power to refuse her.

‘I am glad, on both counts.’

But his smile was not returned; indeed, Will’s increasing mulishness was reminiscent of their first encounter. Then, as now, he had found the Omega’s intransigence both captivating and infuriating.

If we were alone, I would kiss the pout from your lips; I would pull you into my arms and whisper in your ear that never again will I leave your side. If we were alone...

‘It is a long time, Miss Verger, since you went away,’ Miss Graham was saying, though the gentleness of her tone belied reproach.

‘It is, and I am sorry for it. More than you could know.’

Hannibal’s sharp glance encompassed both his friend and Miss Graham, who returned Margot’s affectionate gaze with a warmth he had not previously detected; and which, indeed, he might still have missed, shy and fleeting as it was, if he had not been taught by a certain vociferous Omega that first impressions were not always the safest ground on which to base a judgement.

‘There have been a great many changes in your absence,’ declared Mrs Graham. ‘Miss Price is married and settled. And one of my own daughters, my dearest Abigail. I suppose you have heard of it, for it was in the Times, though it was such a brief announcement – ‘Lately, Mr Matthew Brown to Miss Abigail Graham’ – I wonder at my brother-in-law’s awkwardness in drawing it up! Did you happen to see it?’

‘I did. And I wish them many congratulations.’

To Margot’s credit, she managed a sincere smile; since discovering the full facts of the case, she had veered between anguish over the help Matthew Brown was to receive at Hannibal’s hands, and gratitude that it would spare her beloved Alana the pain of having a sister irreparably disgraced.

Will, meanwhile, was once more staring down at the book in his hands, face impassive. But the tautness of his features and the stiff set of his shoulders betrayed his misery, and Hannibal once more cursed the circumstances that prevented him from offering comfort and reassurance.

‘They are gone to Newcastle, and Mr Brown is to take up a commission there. Thank heaven he has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves.’

Hannibal felt the admonishing weight of Mrs Graham’s stare and bore it philosophically. Those whom he cared for most in the world knew the truth of Matthew Brown’s character, and with that he was content.

It seemed that Will, however, felt differently...

‘It is true that Mr Brown has been most fortunate, Mama,’ he interjected with some warmth. ‘Indeed, a great deal of trouble has been taken to ensure his prosperity, and surely that must be satisfaction enough.’

Mrs Graham glared and the younger Grahams giggled. Hannibal, heart full of pride, turned to the indignant Omega with a tender smile that was, at last, tentatively returned.

It seemed a politic moment to leave, and evidently Margot thought so too, for she rose with unmistakable intent. Mrs Graham immediately followed suit.

‘You must both come to dinner on Tuesday,’ she cooed, following them to the door. ‘And Mr Verger, of course. We are expecting a large party and you will all be most welcome.’

Nothing less than a desperate need to seek out Will for a private conference would have induced Hannibal to accept; but as it was, he found himself wishing fervently that the dinner could be that very night.

***

As soon as they were gone, Will urged Alana to join him for a walk in the garden.

‘Now,’ he said, as soon as they were alone, ‘tell me.’

‘What can you mean?’ asked Alana primly. ‘Truly, Will, there is nothing to tell. I am only relieved that this first awkwardness is over. Now Miss Verger and I may meet as common and indifferent acquaintances.’

‘Oh yes, very indifferent!’ With an expressive shake of his head, Will added, ‘Alana, please take care.’

‘Why?’ she exclaimed. ‘Do you think me so very weak as to be in danger now, after all that has happened?’

Tucking his sister’s arm through his, Will said seriously, ‘I think you are in very great danger of making Miss Verger as much in love with you as ever.’

‘Oh, you are quite incorrigible. And what of your Mr Lecter?’

Will shot his sister a startled glance. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Will!’ Alana stopped before a bench and sat down, tugging Will after her. ‘That is quite enough pretence. I know that something occurred between you when you were in Derbyshire. And from the way he was looking at you just now –’

‘What?’ Will huffed an uneasy laugh. ‘He barely spoke, and he was looking at everyone, Alana.’

‘Oh, Will! Dear Will. How can you not see it? The poor man is clearly besotted.’

He hesitated, then gripped his sister’s hand.

‘Alana, there is something which I have wanted to share with you for a long time, but I could never find the right moment. May I tell you now?’

‘Of course.’ Alana’s eyes were softly sympathetic. ‘Whatever it is, you know I will treat it in the strictest confidence.’

And so he told her all – of their meetings at Ravenstag, of his unexpected heat and the care Hannibal had taken of him, of their conversation on that final day in Bakewell, and of Hannibal’s actions in London. The words spilled from him, almost without pause, and the relief of finally uttering them lightened his heart immeasurably.

When he was finished, they sat together in silence.

‘Then he saved Abigail.’

‘Yes.’

‘And helped his greatest adversary to prosperity.’

‘To relative prosperity, yes, he did.’

‘For you, Will.’ Alana turned to him with a dazed expression. ‘He did all of this for you.’

‘I – do not know that.’

‘William Graham!’ Grabbing him by the shoulders, eyes sparkling with merriment, Alana demanded, ‘Must I shake the sense back into you?’

At that moment, their mother’s voice rang out across the lawn, and quickly Will sprang up.

‘No time. We are wanted for breakfast.’

But despite his evasiveness, Will knew that he would be counting the hours until the dinner, and Hannibal’s return.

***

Mr Verger was conspicuous by his absence when the evening’s most important guests were announced. The rumour quickly went around that he had been felled by an unlucky shot during the day’s sport; though the truth, as explained by Miss Verger, was more prosaic – her brother had twisted his ankle and had been ordered to rest it.

At least Will believed that to have been the explanation – he had been hopelessly distracted at the time by the sight of Hannibal walking through the open doorway. Resplendent in a coat of soft brown velvet, striped neckcloth in various earthy shades, cream waistcoat shot through with gold thread, and snug cream breeches, he had brought with him into the house the warm, rich perfume of early autumn. And all Will had wanted to do was go to him. Be with him. But their most illustrious guest had been pounced on immediately by Sir James and whisked away to the dining room, where he was placed, to Will’s frustration, at the furthest end of the table from his own seat.

Throughout three long courses, Hannibal’s attention was monopolised entirely by Sir James, and as turning away from him would have meant coming face to face with Mrs Graham, who sat immediately to Hannibal’s left at the head of the table, it was perfectly understandable that he gave the affable gentleman his full and undivided attention.

This did not, however, prevent Will from indulging in a great deal of teeth-gnashing. Even the sight of Alana and Miss Verger, sitting side-by-side with every appearance of easy happiness, failed to enliven his spirits.

He saw his father indicate to his mother with a nod that it was time for the ladies to withdraw to the drawing room, and as they rose from their chairs he took the opportunity to slip out. He had no intention of sitting for full another hour being ignored and feeling like a lovesick schoolboy.

In his father’s library, Will plucked a book at random and settled into the window seat. But before his eyes could alight on the first page, he was distracted by the lights outside - torches set into the grass verges, a conceit of his mother’s meant to emulate those they had seen at Muskrat Hall. The small flames flickering restlessly reminded him of that night so long ago when he had danced with Hannibal, and he lifted a hand to press against the cold pane, tracing the shapes.

In profile, Will looked achingly young. Hannibal paused just inside the doorway, wholly enchanted by the picture his lover presented. Book balanced on his thighs, slender ankles crossed, head resting against the glass as he gazed outside, slender fingers dancing across the glass. The soft glow of candlelight had half-veiled him in shadow, emphasising the long sweep of his lashes and the midnight tint of irrepressible curls clustered about his forehead.

Denied for so long the sweet lilt of Will’s voice, the heady fragrance of his scent, Hannibal had felt his sudden absence with a startling degree of discomposure. Back now in Will’s sphere, it was unconscionable that they should once more be parted, and he cared not what his port-swilling companions had thought of his sudden departure from the dining table.

‘I have something for you.’

The slow turn of the Omega’s head suggested that his presence had been noted already. Solemn blue eyes flicked down to the book in his hand, then back up to his face.

‘That is kind of you, but we have plenty already.’

Undeterred by the dismissiveness of Will’s tone, Hannibal moved further into the room, drawn inexorably towards him. Wanting. Needing. To be close again. To share his thoughts and his feelings. And his bed.

‘Not this one, I think.’

Will grasped the weighty tome that was cradled in his lap and held it up pointedly.

‘I am at present absorbed, as you see.’

Hannibal’s lips twitched but he held his countenance.

‘I do indeed. Is it very entertaining?’

‘Exceedingly.’

‘You surprise me.’

‘Why?’ snapped Will.

Hannibal came nearer still and bent to examine the pages, hands clasped behind his back.

‘Rules for Behaviour during Meals, by the author of Principles of Politeness,’ he read slowly, before straightening up. ‘You are to be commended.’

‘Because I find a manual on etiquette diverting?’

Hannibal pretended to consider. ‘That is, of course, wholly admirable. I was referring, however, to the fact that it is upside down.’

Cheeks now a charming shade of pink, Will snapped shut the book, and held out his hand.

‘Very well, if it will put an end to questioning.’

But as he took possession of the small volume, his eyes softened.

‘Oh.’

‘You should feel no obligation to read it. I merely thought –’

‘You remembered.’ Slender fingers brushed the cloth-bound cover with gratifying reverence. ‘Dreams, Waking Thoughts and Incidents.’

‘Of course I did.’

Will stilled. ‘Because you always keep your promises?’

‘If at all possible, yes.’

‘If at all possible.’ Will lowered his gaze. ‘I see.’

Huskily, Hannibal commanded, ‘Will, look at me.’

Meeting that beautiful blue gaze was, as ever, a heady experience. And tumbling from Hannibal’s lips came words which he could no longer repress.

‘I came as soon as I could. I have missed you very much. More than I can say.’

Something trembled in the air between them – something precious and all too fragile. Will’s lips parted on a tremulous sigh.

‘I too. Hannibal, I –’

‘There you are, Hannibal!’ At that moment, Margot appeared in the doorway, expression exasperated. ‘The whole party is assembled in the drawing room and –’

She stopped as she saw Will, and coloured.

‘Oh, Mr Graham, I beg your pardon.’

‘Miss Verger.’ Hastily, Will got to his feet, and Hannibal noted with pleasure that the Omega made no effort to put space between them. ‘Please, do not apologise. We are being unconscionably rude.’

‘Well, that is easily remedied.’ Hannibal smiled first at Margot and then at Will, glance lingering. ‘Shall we?’

They walked through to the drawing room, and as they entered, Will slipped the book into his pocket. It was something precious, not to be shared. At least, with anyone other than Hannibal. Hopes revived, he felt again all the delicious agony of expectation. For surely Hannibal had sought him out to confess his involvement in Abigail’s rescue, and to put an end once and for all to secrets and pretence. Further than that, Will would not allow himself to imagine, but Hannibal’s tender declaration echoed in his heart.

‘I have missed you very much. More than I can say.’

Is it truly possible that he loves me still, despite all that has come between us?

The words of love that had almost spilled from his own lips he tucked away, treasured up for another time.

Hannibal’s status was such that he was in demand from every quarter. Will followed him with his eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, and then was exasperated with himself for his silliness.

You are no pathetic, dependent Omega, pining for his mate. Why, you are not even bonded!

Why, then, did he feel as if they were? Why this primal tug of jealousy when the Alpha engaged with another in animated discourse; when sensually sculpted lips smiled at another’s joke?

Fretful, and annoyed at being such, Will tore his gaze away and sought instead his sister. In pale blue muslin, Alana was a vision of understated beauty. And clearly Miss Verger thought so too. There was a luminosity about her that was most becoming, softening the stateliness of her appearance - gown of rich red velvet, ostrich feathers in her hair. The two of them worlds apart in terms of social standing, yet finding common ground in that most universal of emotions. Their hands brushed occasionally as they sat close together on the sofa, talking and laughing, and their inattentiveness to those around them cheered Will immensely.

Hannibal was by now helping himself to coffee, and Will’s heart beat faster as he saw that he had laid out two cups, side by side. Sure enough, Hannibal picked up both and carried them across the room, offering one to Will with a soft smile.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured, breath hitching as their fingers brushed. ‘Tell me,’ he added hastily, ‘is your sister at Ravenstag still?’

‘Yes, she will remain there until Christmas. She has missed her friends, and would not be parted from them so soon.’

Recalling the charming Miss LeBeau, Will smiled. ‘And Ripper?’

‘He came down with me, and is as troublesome as ever.’ But a rich chuckle accompanied the words.

The tea things were removed, and the card tables set out; and to Will’s intense annoyance, his mother placed Hannibal at a table on the opposite side of the room from his own. Thus divided, further conversation was impossible. Will’s only consolation was that Hannibal’s eyes were as often turned towards his side of the room as were his towards Hannibal’s, with the consequence that both played abysmally.

There was no opportunity for private leave-taking, and the hovering presence of Mrs Graham made all but the most cursory of farewell glances an impossibility.

‘Well, my dears,’ she said, as soon as the family were alone, ‘what say you to that? I think everything has passed off uncommonly well. Dinner was a triumph. Why, even Mr Lecter acknowledged that the partridges were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French cooks at least! And Alana, I never saw you looking more beautiful. More than a match for Miss Verger, as fine as she was in her Parisian clothes!’ And she winked at the newest apple of her maternal eye. ‘Mark my words, we shall have you at Muskrat Hall yet!’