His gaze flickered over her nightdress and dressing gown. She expected a leer or amorous glance but she was mistaken, for he winced as though in pain.
“Those are Marianna’s, are they not?”
So he did remember his wife after all.
Hannah looked down at the ivory lawn with its pink ribbon trim. All of Marianna’s nightclothes had pink trim, she recalled. She’d insisted upon it.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but my things were lost in the accident.”
He turned his face, looking up at the ceiling instead of her. His lips pressed together, working. “So much lost.”
Her heart unexpectedly lurched for him. He had shown no grief over Marianna before now. She had begun to believe he didn’t feel any. She had been wrong.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, the words heavy with new meaning.
She saw tears brighten his eyes before he blinked them away.
Voice hoarse, he asked, “Is she really gone?”
Hannah whispered, “Yes.”
“Gone ... or dead?”
She looked at him sharply, stunned by the question.
He glanced over before returning his gaze to the ceilingabove. “Come now. You cannot pretend not to know she was daily hoping for a way to be rid of me. A chance to leave me and return to herlover.” He spat out the final word like spoiled meat. “How the two of you must have mocked me, laughing behind your hands at the honored knight whose own wife was repulsed by him.”
Hannah shook her head. “I never mocked you, sir.”
“Tell me the truth,” he went on. “Did you help her plan her escape? Evidently, you at least went along with it, since you are here, pretending to be her.”
She gaped at him. “Isthatwhy you are doing this? I promise you, sir. I had nothing to do with it. It was an accident. A terrible, unforeseeable accident.”
He held her gaze as if measuring her honesty. Then he blew out a breath. “If she really is dead—drowned—then I am cruel indeed to voice such a thing, to even think it. And may God forgive me. Yet knowing her as I did. How she despised me. I cannot help but wonder.”
Standing there awkwardly, Hannah said, “Sir John, I don’t know what to say. Dr. Parrish believes she may have already been dead when the tide drew her from the broken carriage. Or perhaps she was thrown into the channel when the carriage crashed, but I don’t think that can be true.”
He frowned at her. “Why?”
Hannah closed her eyes, trying to capture the fleeting memory before it scurried from view. “I don’t know. I think I may have seen her drifting away.... Dr. Parrish and his son tell me they saw her floating, slowly sinking, without struggle. They assured me she did not suffer.”
Should she tell him about the ring? If she did, would she not have to return it directly? She did plan to return it, once she found employment. But the ring was her insurance. If it was between Danny going hungry or without medicine if he needed it ... then she would sell the ring or pawn it. She hatedthe thought of stealing. Knew it was wrong. But she was loath to give up the only thing that might stand between her son and starvation until she found a way to support them.
“I was in and out of my senses,” she explained. “I remember only a few fragments of the accident and what came after. I have a vague memory of trying to grasp her hand, to pull her back, but I had not the strength.”
He gave a shiver of a nod. His eyes remained distant, as though trying to visualize the scene for himself.
“Not your fault,” he whispered. “Mine. All mine. I should never have insisted we drive on.”
“Perhaps, but it was an accident. You could not have known what would happen. That we were so near the cliff. Had you known, of course you would have made a different decision.”
“Would I? You have more confidence than I do. All I cared about was getting her away from him. Wanted no delays to give him opportunity to catch up. I was determined to separate the two of them forever.” He uttered a dry laugh and his voice cracked. “Apparently, I succeeded, did I not? And the poor driver. May God forgive me.”
Again, her heart went out to him. To suffer such a loss was hard enough. But to couple that loss with the guilt of feeling responsible for your wife’s death? As well as that of a young man? It could cripple the strongest of men. She briefly wondered if his serious injuries added to the torment, then realized they probably served as some sort of consolation. Had he escaped unscathed, his guilt would likely be tenfold.
She was tempted to ask him why he had not exposed her, why he had allowed her false identity to stand, but was afraid she would not like his answer. He looked so weary, so grief-stricken at the moment, that she could not bear to press him. Nor did she want to goad him into taunting her again.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to ask. Cautiously she stepped toward the bed she had been afraid to approach aquarter of an hour before. She did not know what she intended to do. Not to lie in it, no. But to offer some sort of comfort.
