She shook her head. “Sir John was insensible, as was I. In fact...” She hesitated. “He has yet to awaken.”
“But ... it’s been, what, eleven or twelve days?”
She nodded. “About that.”
“Will he live?”
“The doctor hopes so, but is not certain.”
His handsome face contorted. “I hope he dies. I hope he suffers for all eternity.”
Several moments passed in strained silence broken only by the ticking of the tall pendulum clock.
Then he glanced at her, sullen. “She did not mention you. When did you return?”
“The day they left Bath.”
He nodded, looking across the room at nothing. “I am glad you were with her. She was always fond of you.”
Guilt pricked Hannah. She could not say the same.
He rose, still twisting the hat brim, unable now to meet her eyes. “It’s his fault, you know. Not mine. It’s not my fault.”
Strange that he should feel guilty, though she supposed hewasat least partly to blame for the move in the first place, the hurry, though not the wreck itself. But who was she to absolve anybody?
He turned toward the window, countenance bleak. “Marianna can’t be... gone. I would know it. In my heart, I would know it.”
She was surprised at how genuine his grief appeared. Perhaps it had been more than an affair after all—more than physical attraction. Though Hannah resented this man for Sir John’s sake, he had done nothing to her personally. She said softly, “I am sorry, Mr. Fontaine. Truly.”
He stood there, staring blindly through the wavy glass, making no move to leave.
Tentatively, she asked, “May I offer you some refreshment before you go? You must be tired after your journey.”
“No. I could not eat or drink.” He fumbled for a card in his coat pocket and gave it to her with trembling hands. “If you hear anything. If her—if she is found. Please write and let me know.”
Hannah didn’t plan to be there much longer, but she could not very well refuse the stricken man’s request. “Very well.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, and stumbled from the room and out of the house looking dazed and lost.
Hannah stood at the front windows watching him wander away toward town. Mrs. Turrill joined her at the window. “Took it hard, did he?”
“Yes,” Hannah agreed. “Very hard.”
Chapter8
The next day, Hannah awoke to find Mrs. Turrill folding back her shutters. Then the housekeeper turned, opened the wardrobe, and began perusing its contents.
Hannah sat up in bed, favoring her wrapped arm. She noticed the tray of hot chocolate and toast on her bedside table.
Mrs. Turrill followed her gaze. “I thought you might like a little something straightaway. You ate so little yesterday.”
“Thank you. You do too much for me, Mrs. Turrill.” Hannah sipped her chocolate.
“Yes, I do.” The woman gave her a saucy wink. “It’s why I have engaged a housemaid to start tomorrow. Her name is Kitty. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You need the help, managing the house and helping to care for me as you do.” Hannah nibbled a bite of toasted bread.
“It’s been my pleasure.” She looked back inside the wardrobe. “My lady, you’ve been wearing those same two frocks since you’ve been up and about. Let’s try one of your other pretty gowns today.”
