She returned in an hour’s time as bid, curious to learn why Sir John had not exposed her, even as she feared it. Surely he would not knowingly cover for her, would he? No, she was foolish to hope. But when she peeked in at the door, she saw that the man was asleep in his bed and hadn’t the heart—nor the courage—to wake him.
She thought back to their first private meeting, the one in which they had discussed the terms of her employment as lady’s companion. Sir John offered a generous allowance, though he clearly had reservations about engaging a companion for his wife in the first place. She recalled sitting awkwardly in the morning room of the Mayfields’ Bristol house, while Sir John stood across the room, looking not at her but out the window. “Are you willing?”
“Yes,” she replied.
He winced, indicating her reply didn’t please him, although she wasn’t sure why. He said, as if to himself, “But ... should I agree to it?”
“Only if you wish to.”
“My wishes?” He barked a bitter laugh that sounded anything but jovial. “God doesn’t often grant me what I wish for, I find.”
She said earnestly, “Then perhaps you wish for the wrong things.”
He looked at her then, as though for the first time. “You may be right. And what is ityouwish for?”
Challenge lit his silvery blue eyes and for a moment she sank into them, feeling tongue-tied and intimidated.
Before she could fashion a suitable reply, he crossed his arms and continued, “It would be unfair to ask you to report where Lady Mayfield goes and whom she meets, but I can at least hope you will be a good influence on her.” He added dryly, “Unlike most of the company she keeps.”
She lifted her chin. “You’re right, sir. I cannot be her companion and your spy. I will, however, offer friendly advice when I can to keep her from harming her own reputation or her marriage.”
“Ha,” he’d scoffed, his cool eyes icing over. “Too late.”
If she’d known everything that would happen in that house, would she have agreed to the arrangement? How naïve she had been to think she could curb Marianna’s behavior with men. She had not even succeeded in controlling her own.
Curiosity piqued, Hannah decided not to leave until she heard what Sir John wanted to say to her in private.
The next evening, Hannah quietly slipped into his bedchamber while Dr. Parrish repacked his medical bag. He lifted a hand to acknowledge her presence, then returned to his task. She sat stiffly in the chair she had occupied to read to Sir John, but did not pick up the book. Instead, she clasped nervous hands in her lap and wondered what awaited her. Sir John wore a fine dressing gown over his nightshirt and his hair was combed. He had likely been blond in his youth, but now at forty, his hair was light brown and, at the moment, in need of a good cutting.
He flicked a peevish look in her direction. “I asked you to return last night.”
“I did. You were asleep.”
Not appearing convinced, he turned his calculating gaze to the doctor. “The, em, medical rubbing mykindwife has been performing so ably ... Is there any reason not to continue with that?”
Hannah cringed at the biting irony in his voice, but the good doctor did not seem to notice.
He shook his head. “None at all. Not until you are on your feet and taking exercise on your own.”
“Excellent.” Sir John sent her a challenging look. “And doctor, one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“Any reason I cannot resume my ... conjugal duties ... with my wife?”
Hannah gasped and ducked her head, cheeks flaming.
The doctor’s mouth parted, clearly taken aback. He glanced from one to the other, then fiddled with his case. He ended with an indulgent dimple. “Sir John, you jest, I think. You enjoy teasing Lady Mayfield, no doubt. But you have embarrassed her, my good sir, and must endeavor to be more discreet in future.”
Sir John did not return the man’s grin. “I am not jesting. I am in earnest.”
Hannah’s mind whirled. What was Sir John doing? Embarrassing her as a form of punishment for her deception? It was not like him. Had the crash damaged his mind and character as well as his body? Or, did he somehow really believe her to be his wife?
The doctor faltered, “Well. I ... that being the case, I would prefer to speak in private about such matters.”
“Why? Does your answer not affect her as much as it does me?”
Dr. Parrish frowned. “Not exactly, no. For she is all but recovered and you are not, though you progress daily. I think withyour ribs and that ankle of yours, any activity will be quite uncomfortable at present. Painful even.” He shook his head. “No, in my professional opinion, it is not advisable at present.”
