He smirked up at her. “Anythinginterestingin the post?”
She met his challenging look with a cold one of her own. “Not especially, no.”
“And my letter?”
“I have left it in Sir John’s room.”
“You read it?”
“I did.”
“And the others?”
“Nothing to concern you.” But was that really true? Hannah turned to leave the room, her conscience plaguing her. For had a man not threatened Mr. Lowden’s client?
“Love letters from Mr. Fontaine, I suppose?” he called after her.
She whirled back around. So much for veiled tact.
“I assure you there were no love letters.”
“You know Sir John hoped to keep Fontaine from discovering where you had gone.”
Dare she tell him? “Then his plan was unsuccessful, sir, for Mr. Fontaine has already been here.”
His eyes flashed. “Has he indeed? And I wonder how he found you so quickly.”
“I have no idea.”
The man scoffed. “Right. And what was the outcome of his visit?”
“He left. Disappointed.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Or is he merely ... waiting?” he asked, green eyes glinting like fish scales in sunlight.
“Waiting?”
“Now that Sir John’s fate is uncertain. Why rush off without a farthing, when one believes an inheritance awaits if only one is patient?” His lip curled with contempt.
She stared at him, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
He asked, “Do you know what Sir John has asked me to do?”
“You have yet to tell me.”
“He asked me to change his will.”
Hannah shrugged. “What is that to me?”
“Everything.”
Perhaps to Marianna but not to her. Oh, why had she stayed?
She asked, “Change it how?”
