Dr. Parrish called often, and declared both patients well on their way to recovery. Concerned, Sir John asked to see the child, but the doctor hesitated, just in case the fever was catching. He didn’t want to risk it when Sir John was regaining his strength at last. Mr. Lowden, meanwhile, had ridden to the larger town of Barnstaple to acquire a bank draft to send to Mr. Ward. The hours passed slowly in his absence. Hannah had seen him only in passing the last few days.
Now that Mr. Lowden knew and Mrs. Turrill surely suspected, Hannah knew she should stop pretending to be Lady Mayfield and leave, but still she hesitated. The reality of her situation washed over her anew. Danny’s fever had made it painfully clear. If ... when ... she left, how alone she would be. How vulnerable. No Sir John to house them. No Mrs. Turrill to bring them meals. No handsome solicitor to rush out for fever powder. What would she do if Danny fell ill while she was in some squalid inn or boarding house? No gentleman-physician would come calling then. And apothecaries and surgeons didnot work for free. The truth was, she was frightened to leave. Especially with Danny still listless from the fever, and her arm still tender. What if he had a relapse? Moreover, did she really want to disappear from Sir John’s life again? Or from Mr. Lowden’s, for that matter?
Mrs. Turrill came up to sit with her one evening while a storm brewed off the coast. She studied Hannah’s face, her dark eyes filled with concern. “You look so weary and ill at ease, my lady. The fever is past and all is well. I’m sure of it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Turrill. I am sorry to be out of sorts.”
“Not at all. It’s only natural—what a trying few days you’ve had. I wish I could help somehow.”
“Youhavehelped me, far more than I deserve.”
Her eyes lit. “I know. A nice warm bath is what you need. I’ll have Ben and Kitty bring the tub to your room and start heating the water. You go and lie down while you wait.”
“That is not necessary, Mrs. Turrill. I don’t want to put everyone to extra work. You are already taking care of Sir John along with everything else.”
“Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Sir John had a nice long soak yesterday and it did him a world of good.”
“Did it? I confess it does sound heavenly, but I hate to ask.”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling.” Mrs. Turrill winked. “Go on with you now.”
An hour later, Hannah found herself sitting in the large tin tub, knees bent, submerged in warm, wonderful water up to her chest, her bandaged arm resting on the edge of the tub. Usually she made do with a sponge bath or a wash in the small hip bath, but she realized Mrs. Turrill had been right. She felt the tension easing from her body. She washed with lilac-scented soap, then Kitty came in and washed her hair. The gentle scrubbing of her scalp felt so good, and she felt her fears wash away with the rinse water. “I think I’ll soak a little longer if you don’t mind, Kitty.”
“You go right ahead, my lady. I shall help Mrs. Turrill battendown the shutters against the storm. Then I shall come back to help you out.”
“No hurry.”
The girl left, shutting the door behind her. Outside the wind howled, but she was warm and safe indoors. And so was Danny. She leaned back and rested her head against the towel folded over the end of the tub.Ahhh...
The door banged open and Hannah started, sitting upright with a gasp and covering her bosom with one arm. She turned to see who had so boldly entered, but the threshold and passage beyond remained empty. The wind, she realized. Someone must have opened a window or the front door, sending her own door flying open in response. She waited a minute, assuming Kitty or Mrs. Turrill would have heard the bang, come to investigate, and close the door for her. She waited a few minutes longer, feeling self-conscious sitting there, her upper body partly exposed and quickly cooling.
No one came. With a sigh, she rose, using her good arm to help herself up. Then she wrapped the towel around her torso as best she could. Her dressing gown was out of reach on a chair several feet away.
She gingerly stepped out of the tub, placing one foot on the braided rug, then the other.
Footsteps sounded in the passageway outside. At last!
She looked up, a self-conscious grin on her face, ready to explain to Kitty what had happened. Instead, she sucked in a breath and gaped at James Lowden.
He drew up in surprise and froze where he was, hat in hand, greatcoat hanging open, hair tousled by the wind. His mouth parted but he did not redden, or turn, or smile. His gaze began on her face and slowly moved down her neck, her shoulders and unbound hair, past the towel, to her long legs....
Hannah found herself unable to move, barely able to breathe. A blush burned down her entire body.
He stepped across the threshold, and her heart thumped hard. What would he do? For a moment he stood there, staring at her. His expression almost ... disapproving—jaw clenched, lips tight. If he found her comely at all, he certainly did not show it.
“Be careful, my lady,” he warned, voice low and dangerous.
“The wind blew it open,” she defended.
His eyes glinted. “It’s an ill wind that blows no one good.”
He reached out his hand, and she gasped. But he only took hold of the latch and slowly pulled the door toward himself. He stood there on the threshold, eyes burning into hers, until the door snapped shut.
The next morning, Hannah rose languidly. She had slept deeply the night before—thanks to the relaxing bath, no doubt—despite that strange and embarrassing encounter with Mr. Lowden. Since he had come to their rescue during the fever, her heart had warmed to him. Meanwhile, he flashed warm then cold in unpredictable turns. Did he wrestle with his feelings as she did? She was probably flattering herself. Perhaps the man had no feelings. For her, at any rate. Which was probably for the best, considering she was still posing as Sir John’s wife.
Kitty helped her into the pale, rose-pink day dress, and then Hannah sat at the dressing table to brush her hair. Her freshly washed strands felt soft and thick and clean, and in the sunlit mirror, golden highlights shone more brightly than usual.
After a solitary breakfast she went up to the nursery and cuddled Danny. Becky declared she felt quite her old self and was ready for another reading lesson. Hannah agreed and, laying Danny in his cradle, sat beside the girl on the made bed. Becky openedA Little Pretty Pocket-Bookand began reading the simple rhymes for each letter of the alphabet.
