James shook his head. “You wrote to say you were recovering, but—my goodness, how well you look.” He did indeed. James knew he should be glad.
“Thank you. Good journey?”
“Oh, the usual tedious, spine-jarring experience. No accidents or anything if that’s what you meant.”
“I did not.”
James felt his neck heat. What a callous thing to say. “I did not mean ... I was not referring to—”
Sir John waved away his apology. “Never mind. As you see, no harm has befallen me during your absence. You worried for nothing.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, as it turns out.”
“And ... why is that?”
“Why? Because the lady in question means me no harm, I assure you.”
“Does she not?”
Sir John shook his head. “In fact she has been quite kind in ministering to me body and soul.”
Body and soul?Astounded, James faltered, “Do ... do you still wish to revise your will?”
“Let’s hold off on that at present.”
“But—” James bit his tongue. He cleared his throat, wishing he might clear his confusion as easily. “Well, that is your prerogative of course, though I must say I am surprised.”
But was he—was he really?
“Go and get settled, Mr. Lowden. We shall have plenty of time to talk later.”
That evening, Hannah ate dinner with Mr. Lowden in awkward formality, the roast duck tasting like sawdust in her mouth. Their former fledgling camaraderie seemed to have vanished. He had changed toward her, she realized. During his absence, had he learned something unsavory about Lady Mayfield ... or about Hannah Rogers?
Near the end of the meal, Mr. Lowden picked up his wine, but instead of sipping, held his glass in midair.
“You once told me you received a letter from a friend of Miss Rogers, who took it upon himself to inform her father of her death.”
Sending a nervous glance to Mrs. Turrill, dishing out their rice pudding at the sideboard, Hannah nodded.
He asked, “Was this ‘friend’ a Fred Bonner?”
She snapped her head toward him, instantly on her guard.
Not waiting for her to answer, he added, “And was her father a Mr. Thomas Rogers, formerly of Oxford, now perpetual curate of St. Michael’s on the outskirts of Bristol?”
She only stared at him, heart racing.
“Hannah Rogers’s mother, a Mrs. Anne Rogers, died ten years ago of the influenza, I believe.”
Dear Mamma ...Hannah felt torn between relief that her mother was not there to see her only daughter in her current situation, while at the same time longing for her comforting presence.
He continued, “Hannah had two brothers, both gone to sea. Did you know the eldest, Bryan Rogers, has passed his lieutenancy examination?”
Mutely, she shook her head.
“Apparently, I know more about this bosom companion of yours than you do, mylady.”
