Hannah followed after him. Sir John walked with a swift, sure stride toward the Cliff Road.My goodness, Hannah thought. He was not weak any longer.
Unable to keep up with his long legs and rapid pace, she finally called out, “Sir John!”
He looked back, and hesitated upon seeing her. Her heart sank. No welcoming smile broke across his face. Nor did he use his newfound strength to run to her. In fact, he stood there regarding her almost warily. Did he think her presumptuous for coming uninvited?
Her confidence left her. She hesitated as well, unsure how to proceed.
She pushed herself slowly forward, trying to catch her breath and calm herself. “Good day,” she managed.
He nodded. “Miss Rogers.”
So formal. After all they’d been through together.
He laid both hands over the head of his walking stick, propped on the ground before him. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Visiting Mrs. Turrill, I assume?”
“Yes. I’ve returned Becky to her. The dear woman has invited her to share their cottage.”
He nodded his understanding. “How is Danny? He fares well, I trust?”
“Yes. He is napping at Mrs. Turrill’s as we speak.”
“Ah. Good.”
She glanced back toward the stable. “I saw you ride in.” She shook her head in wonder. “How recovered you are. It’s amazing how you’ve regained your strength.”
“I’ve been working at it,” he allowed. “And if you will excuse me, I shall continue my walk.”
His dismissal stung, but she persisted. “You look quite hale,” she blurted before he could turn. “I am pleased to see it.” She felt herself flush at the words.
One brow rose. “Flattery, Miss Rogers? It isn’t like you.”
She recognized it then. The shell of cold indifference he’d adopted when he first suspected her of helping Marianna plot her escape. A way to protect himself.
He touched his hat brim. “And now I shall bid you good day.” He turned smartly and continued on, determined either to take exercise or to keep his distance from her.
Hurrying to keep up with him, Hannah said, “I wonder, Sir John, if you even know what I am really like. You’ve only known me as a hired companion and an impostor.”
“On the contrary,” he retorted. “I once thought I knew you very well.”
This was certainly not the romantic reunion she had hoped for or imagined. She needed to do something to divert the course of this conversation and quickly.
“Will you please slow down, so I may talk with you?”
“You’re young. Keep up.”
Sir John had reached the Cliff Road before she managed to overtake him. Or perhaps he had taken pity on her and slowed down.
Hannah crossed the road and looked out at the channel, struck by the sight. She looked west toward Lynton and Lynmouth, and east toward the Countisbury church tower to gainher bearings. The wind buffeted her, threatening to yank the bonnet from her head.
She walked several yards east, waving Sir John over. “Look.” She pointed. “That’s where the carriage crashed.”
He followed and peered down reluctantly, as though expecting a gruesome sight or perhaps a ghost. But only one carriage wheel and a moldering velvet bench remained to mark the spot.
His expression grew thoughtful. “That’s where my former life ended—and my new life began.”
“Mine too,” she whispered, the words swallowed by the wind.
Keeping his face toward the channel, Sir John said, “Mr. Lowden is not here, if you are looking for him. He is working from his offices in Bristol.” He kept his gaze averted, as though not wishing to see her disappointment.
