“No? Pity. What about sharing my bed? For simple comfort and affection? Is there any harm in that?”
“Sir John!” Hannah protested. “You push too far.”
He coolly studied her face. “Evidently, Lady Mayfield is concerned she would injure me in the night.”
She recognized the sarcasm in his tone even if the physician did not. Dr. Parrish pursed his lips in thought.
Please say no, Hannah silently pleaded. Even if she had admired Sir John in the past, at the moment, all she felt was fear and mortification. He had never spoken to her so coarsely nor been so cavalier.
“If she is careful not to jostle you too much, I see no harm,” the doctor decided. “And no doubt it would be a welcome change for both of you after such a long parting. Yes, I think that would be all right.”
Hannah sputtered, “But, I—I can’t.”
Both men turned to stare at her.
She faltered, “I mean ... What will Mrs. Turrill say? She will know I have not slept in my own bed and—”
Dr. Parrish interrupted gently, “My dear lady. We are not such proper city folk. Here in the West Country, a man and wife may share a bed without raising eyebrows, I assure you.”
“Ah, what a relief,” Sir John said with a patronizing smile. “There, my lady, those objections are dealt with and the matter settled.”
“But, Sir John—” she began.
He cut her off once more. “Thank you so much, Dr. Parrish. You have earned your stipend today indeed.”
The trusting man looked from one to the other in some bemusement, perhaps noticing Sir John’s sarcasm at last, but unsure of its cause or meaning. He was clearly aware of “LadyMayfield’s” discomfort, yet likely assumed it was due to modesty and not any real unease or fear of her changeable husband.
When Dr. Parrish had taken his leave, Sir John said archly, “I’m sure you will want to change into your nightclothes.”
She slowly shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because my memory is beginning to return. And with it, my imagination.” His sardonic tone followed her out the door. “Don’t be long,wife.”
She walked stiffly from the room and forced her legs down the passage. How had it come to this? What was she to do—refuse and cause a scene? Gather up Danny and walk out the door as darkness began to fall? Surely he did not really expect her to share his bed. Had seeing Danny and realizing she’d had a child out of wedlock given him ideas? Just because she had fallen in that way once before did not mean she would do so again. She had learned her lesson, and a painful one at that.
For several minutes, Hannah stood in her bedchamber, uncertain. Then a quiet knock pulled her around.
There stood Mrs. Turrill, questions in her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, but Dr. Parrish mentioned Sir John’s request. I thought you might like me to help you change.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Turrill.”
The kind woman helped her into her nightclothes and brushed her hair.
“Are you certain you will be all right?” The light in the woman’s eyes, her cautious expression, made Hannah wonder just what she was asking. Just what she knew. Or suspected.
Hannah forced a smile. “Yes, of course.”I will just sleep in the upholstered chair near the fire, she told herself. In the same room, to appease Dr. Parrish. Near enough to Sir John, she hoped, to appease him in whatever strange test he was giving her. If he wanted to provoke her into confessing who she was, why had he not simply allowed her to do so before? Was he trying to force her to blurt out the truth and bolt?
She was tempted to do just that.
But where would that leave Danny?
When she entered Sir John’s room, she noticed he had slid himself over—or Mrs. Turrill had helped him—leaving space for her in bed. Yet, she did not miss the surprise flash in his eyes when she returned in her nightclothes. Apparently, he had not expected her to agree.
A moment later his expression hardened once more, and he patted the bed beside him. “Come,wife.”
“Sir John...” She ducked her chin in reproof.
“You’re the one who started this. If you prefer to leave, go. It’s not as though I could chase you.”
