She did know. Fred Bonner had loved her since they were children, growing up as neighbors in Bristol. But love wasn’t enough.
“Oh, Freddie. I’m sorry. Danny and I can’t wait that long.”
She turned leaden legs north, up Lansdown Street.
He called after her, “Would your father not help you?”
“No.” Nor would she ask him to, if she could help it.
At the top of Camden Place, Fred grasped her arm, forcing her to pause.
“Let me go and talk to my pa, then. Perhaps he might help us.”
“Would he?” She turned to face him. “When you tell him everything?”
His jaw ticked, but he did not answer. In a lower voice, he asked, “What do you intend to do, Han?”
She gently pulled her arm from his grasp. “What I must.”
She resolutely turned into Camden Place, leaving Fred standing there, downcast and alone....
In the hired chaise, Hannah awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep and her memories had slipped into dreams. Herhand had fallen asleep as well. Beside her, Edgar snored softly. Nancy, however, sat wide-awake, looking at her strangely. Hannah straightened on the bench, sending the girl a rueful smile. Had she muttered something in her sleep? She hoped she had said nothing to give herself away.
Chapter6
When they reached the outskirts of Bath, Hannah’s pulse rate accelerated. She’d only been gone a little more than a week, she reminded herself. Surely Danny would still be all right.
The postilion directed the horses into the yard of the Westgate, an old coaching inn near the heart of the city. There, hostellers relieved him of his duty and led the hired horses into the stables for a much-deserved rest.
Ben helped Hannah and Nancy down from the carriage. Both women were eager to stretch their legs after the many hours of confinement.
Edgar asked Ben to wait at the inn and keep an eye on the carriage while he escorted the ladies. As Edgar gave the young man final instructions, Hannah looked about her, gaining her bearings.
She took a deep breath and said brightly, “The baths are just there.” She pointed across the street, then turned to Edgar and pressed several coins into his palm. “You cannot bring Nancy all the way to Bath and not show her the Pump Room and Roman Baths. I shall go on my own to pick up Danny. I willwant a little time alone to explain the situation and Sir John’s condition before I return.”
Edgar’s brow furrowed. “Papa said I was to deliver you directly and help with your things.”
“And you have delivered me as promised, and I so appreciate your help,” Hannah said. “I am going just around the corner and won’t have much to carry. Now you two go on, and have a nice time. I shall meet you back here in, say ... two hours’ time?”
Edgar frowned and seemed about to refuse, but Nancy took him by the arm and eagerly pulled him across the courtyard toward the Pump Room, grinning and chatting with excitement. Halfway across the courtyard, Edgar turned to glance at her over his shoulder, looking very much like his father at that moment with concern and uncertainty written on his face. Hannah smiled and waved encouragement and watched until they had disappeared through the arched doorway of the fashionable establishment.
Hannah surreptitiously scanned the courtyard and street beyond for Freddie, though she didn’t think it was one of his regular delivery days. She was relieved not to see him or his wagon anywhere.
Satisfied, Hannah turned and walked briskly away. Her destination was not “just around the corner.” It was seven or eight blocks away. She crossed Westgate Street and walked quickly up Bridewell, before turning into narrow Trim Street. Arriving winded, she knocked at the door of the old terraced house, her heart tripping from the rapid pace and the fear that Danny had taken sick with fever or met with some other dire fate during her absence.
A heavy tread shook the floor within. The small hatch in the door opened, and a pair of eyes beneath bushy brows appeared. A man’s eyes.
“Yeah? Whaddya want?”
Hannah blinked in surprise. “I am here to see Mrs. Beech.”
His eyes roved her face and neck, and suddenly the bar was thrown and the door swung wide. Hannah took a wary step back. Her nose wrinkled at the look and smell of the potbellied, unkempt man standing on the threshold.
“She ain’t here.” The man continued his perusal of her face and figure. “Though I wager I can help ya.”
“Not here?” Hannah’s breath caught. “But ... she has my son. I am here to collect him.”
“What’s your name, girl?”
