She stopped in the doorway, arms folded. “Did you know she might be alive?”
Sir John stood at the window, leaning on his cane. He glancedover, saw her taut expression, and returned his gaze to the scene outside. “It crossed my mind.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to report her death?” She added to herself,Or ask me to marry you?
“One of the reasons, yes. Though it was only a suspicion. Still is.”
She jutted out her chin. “Mr. Lowden told me what you asked him to do.”
Sir John said dryly, “That man seems to tell you everything.”
“We have ... become friends, James and I.”
“James, is it? Friends, or more?”
“Friends. For now.”
Sir John nodded thoughtfully. “Still, one wonders why my solicitor feels it necessary to divulge my personal business.”
She crossed the room to him. “It is not your personal business. He knew it would affect me if she is alive. You know it as well. But don’t do it, Sir John. Do not try to divorce Marianna—especially on my account. I have enough marks against me already.”
“If I do pursue this course,” he replied, “it would not be your fault, Hannah. Not everything is your fault. And surely not Marianna fabricating her death so she might live in peace with her paramour.”
“We don’t even know yet if that’s true. And perhaps if she is alive, she has been unable to return, or at least to get word to you—”
He shot her a withering look. “Oh please, Hannah. You cannot be so naïve. You know her too well to believe that.”
No, she did not fully believe it. “But ... divorce? So much time and expense and scandal, with no guarantee of success. And for what? To compound our sins?”
His eyes roamed her face, then held her troubled gaze. “For our freedom.”
“If your wife is alive, then I cannot in good conscience remain any longer.” She turned. “We shall leave on the morrow.”
He reached out and grasped her arm. “Hannah, please. Stay with me. You know Marianna has never been a real wife to me. Should I be condemned to live married yet alone all my days? Is that what I deserve?”
“No, Sir John. This is not your punishment. Perhaps it is mine, but not yours. You deserve better. And I will hope and pray that Marianna will see the error of her ways and come back to you. Be the wife you deserve.”
“You know that will never happen.” His hand on her arm trembled. “Listen to me. I know I cannot marry you here, not now. But this needn’t be the end of us. We can go to another of my properties. Live together as man and wife.” His eyes blazed. “Why do you shake your head?”
Hannah took a shuddering breath, then said as resolutely as she could, “Sir John, I cannot be your mistress. I will not! I know I have made mistakes. But that doesn’t mean I have no sense of right and wrong, no self-respect.”
“I know that, Hannah. And I do respect you.”
She mustered a small smile. “I am afraid I have been spoiled by my time here. I’m no longer satisfied with pretending to be your wife. I want a husband of my own. I want my son to grow up in a real family.”
He nodded and his voice grew hoarse. “That’s what I want too.”
Tears brightened his eyes, but he stoically blinked them away. It was nearly her undoing.
Before her resolve weakened, she turned to the door, but he caught her hand once more.
“Hannah, I won’t press you. But don’t leave. Not yet. You are right that we don’t yet know if these rumors are true. It’s only that I can so easily believe it of her. Yet did not Edgar and Dr. Parrish witness her drowning? We, neither of us, ought to makedecisions based on one sighting. At a masquerade, no less. Stay. Please. At least until we hear from Mr. Lowden.”
She hesitated. “Very well. Though I’m not promising to stay after that, regardless. And if he finds evidence that she is alive, I will have no choice but to leave immediately.”
They spent the days that followed in a tenuous truce—living as polite acquaintances but no more. Only with Danny did Sir John demonstrate care and affection, as though he knew or feared that every day with his son might be his last.
A week later, a letter arrived for Sir John. With a lurching heart, Hannah recognized the handwriting and carried it up to Sir John herself. Seated at his desk, he looked from the letter up to her, perhaps tempted to ask her to leave so he might read it in private and then decide whether or not to share its contents. Hannah stood before the desk and folded her arms, daring him to protest.
