Chapter15
Hannah returned to Sir John’s bedchamber the next evening. Not to sleep in his bed, nor in the uncomfortable chair again, but to talk with him for a time before bidding him good-night.
She was surprised to find him propped up with pillows—a portable writing desk on his lap, and quill in hand.
“Good evening, Miss ... my lady. What a pleasant surprise.”
She ducked her head, ill at ease to hear him call her by the title. “If you are busy, I shall leave you.”
“Not at all. Come and talk to me. What a pleasure that will be.” His warm tone seemed sincere. Was he?
She walked closer. “May I ask what you are writing?”
“A letter to Mr. Lowden.”
“Ah.” Hannah felt an odd twinge at the sound of his name.
Sir John set aside his writing things and patted the edge of the bed. “Please. Come and sit by me. I promise to behave myself.” The words rumbled low in his chest. She had almost forgotten what a rich baritone voice he had.
Tentatively, Hannah sat on the edge of the bed. He took her free hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Had she not once longed for such a gesture?
“How is Danny?” he asked.
“He is well, thank you.”
“I am glad to hear it.” He hesitated, then said gently, “How surprising to learn you’d become a mother. We had no idea.”
She avoided his gaze. “I know.”
“I ... don’t suppose it would be polite to ask about... the child’s father?”
Hannah felt her cheeks heat. Instead of replying, she asked the question that had been on her mind for some time. “Pardon me for raising a sad topic, but I was surprised to hear from Dr. Parrish that Lady Mayfield had been with child.”
He flinched. “Yes, a physician in Bath confirmed it.”
“A double loss for you, then.”
With a sigh, he said, “Of course I am sorry for any loss of life, especially one so young and innocent. And when I think it was in my power to prevent it...”
“Sir John, you don’t know that.”
“But the child Marianna carried was not mine,” he went on evenly. “Couldn’t be. But as she and I would have been married at the time of its birth—the child, if a son, would have legally been heir to my entailed property. And, if Marianna had but asked me, I would have forgiven her and loved that child as if he or she were my own flesh and blood.”
A wistful ache ran through her at the words. “What did Marianna say, when the doctor confirmed the news? She must have feared you might realize the child was not yours.”
“She was not repentant, if that is what you think. She said, ‘What did you expect?’”
Hannah shook her head. “Yet you still hoped to keep her from Mr. Fontaine? Hoped coming here would bring her back to you?” She heard the incredulity in her voice but felt powerless to curb it.
“She was my wife. And I, her husband. Before God. For better or for worse. Though I never imagined how much worse—howthat vow would test me like no words I had spoken in my life.”
Sir John pulled a face and continued, “What did I do to make Marianna so despise me, did she ever tell you?”
Hannah hesitated. “I don’t know that it was anything you did, Sir John. I think she already had strong feelings for Mr. Fontaine when you met her.”
“Then why did she marry me?”
Hannah had wondered that herself, and had pieced together at least a partial answer from things Marianna had confided. “You know her father wielded a great deal of influence over her while he lived,” she began. “And you are a man of far more consequence than Mr. Fontaine—wealth, property, title. It’s little wonder Mr. Spencer was so strongly in favor of the match.”
