Sir John said nothing, but James saw a pulse tick above his clenched jaw. James went on, “And while I can understand why she might pass herself off as Lady Mayfield to secure shelter for herself and her son, I cannot in good conscience allow it to go on.”
Sir John frowned. “Who asked you to ‘look into’ these matters, as though they are any of your concern?”
James felt his defenses rise. “You wrote and asked my father to look into her whereabouts after she left your employ,” James said. “And now, as your solicitor—”
“That was months ago,” Sir John said. “And only to learn what had become of her. Not to ferret out information better left buried.”
James reeled back in astonishment. “Does she have some sort of hold on you, sir? For you to go along with this? Is she extorting money from you somehow, or...?”
“Heavens, no. What an imagination you have, Mr. Lowden. And how you do see criminal intent where none exists. Perhaps you missed your calling. A career as a Bow Street runner or perhaps judge and jury might have better suited you.”
“I don’t know what to say. You know she is not your wife.”
“Of course I know she is not Marianna Mayfield. I am not blind, nor insane.”
“Well, you were out of your senses for quite some time, so I thought—”
“You thought wrong. It was Dr. Parrish who assumed Miss Rogers was Lady Mayfield when he found us alone in the wrecked carriage. And she allowed the misapprehension to continue only because she was concerned about how she would support her young son.”
“And she could think of no way beyond impersonating her dead mistress?”
Sir John winced. “You exaggerate, Lowden. It wasn’t as bad as all that.”
James shook his head. “I don’t understand you, sir.”
“I’m not paying you to understand me. As I said, let’s leave the will for now.”
“But what about the child?”
“Good point—include the child as well.”
James fisted his hands. What was the man playing at? Was he really willing to risk this woman’s illegitimate child becoming heir to his estate? “You said it yourself, Sir John. You see no resemblance between yourself and the boy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that?”
“His mother told me herself. I gather she heard you say as much to both Mrs. Turrill and Dr. Parrish.”
“That’s true, I did.”
James felt as though he were repeating things to a young child ... or a simpleton. “You admit he looks nothing like you, Sir John. That’s because he—”
“Yes, but he looks a great deal like someone I once knew.”
“Mr. Fontaine?” The words were out of James’s mouth before he could think the better of them.
Sir John scowled at him. “No.NotFontaine.”
Seeing the anger in Sir John’s expression, James thought it wiser not to hazard another ill-advised guess.
Dr. Parrish found Hannah in the nursery and asked her to assist him in Sir John’s bedchamber. “Today is the day, my lady. Sir John is going to attempt his first steps!”
Mixed emotions filled her. Would he be able to walk, she wondered, after lying in bed for so many weeks? She and Dr. Parrish, along with Nurse Weaver, had tried to maintain some level of strength and agility in his legs—especially the one with the sound ankle. But the other? She hoped he would not be disappointed.
When she arrived, Sir John slid himself to the edge of his bed. Dr. Parrish took one arm and looked at her expectantly. “My lady?”
“Oh, of course.” Hannah stepped to Sir John’s other side and grasped Sir John’s elbow.
“All right, Sir John. Whenever you are ready. We’re here to help steady you. We’ll expect no dashes, sir. Just a simple stand-up is our only goal for today. Are you ready?”
