“No, sir.”
He smiled wryly. “That reply was long in coming. You needn’t be polite.”
“I am not being polite. It is true. I do not think you repulsive.”
He touched his heart, a mocking light in his grey-blue eyes. “What a compliment. I am in your debt, madam.”
“I did not mean—”
“Never mind, Miss Rogers. It is kind of you to try.”
Feeling the urge to lay a comforting hand on his arm to reassure him, she rose. His gaze snapped over, watching her in some surprise. How inappropriate such consolation would be coming from her, she realized. Courage failing her, she stepped to the window instead. She pretended to survey the storm, the swaying branches, the lightning slicing the ominous sky.
She felt his gaze on her profile.
“It’s getting worse,” she observed.
“Yes, it is,” he muttered, and went back to poking the fire.
She glanced at his despondent expression. He was not a perfect man. No one was. But Hannah had lived in that house long enough to know that the lion’s share of the blame lay with Marianna.
Courage returning, she stepped from the window to his side and—with a nervous swallow—laid her hand on his arm. He gave a little start and looked down at her pale, bare fingers on his dark sleeve. He looked from her hand to her face almost warily.
“Sir John, forgive me for speaking out of turn. But there is nothing wrong with you. You are kind and gentlemanlike. A bit quiet, perhaps, but also intelligent, well-respected, and honorable. I don’t know why she finds such fault with you. I think perhaps it is simply that you are not Mr. Fontaine.”
He inhaled, then slowly released the breath. “Well, there is nothing I can do about that.” He patted her hand awkwardly. “Still, I thank you, Miss Rogers.”
She smiled apologetically and removed her hand. “You’re welcome.”
In the hearth, the fire sparked to life at last.
She watched it for several moments, then sighed. “Well, I think I shall retire.”
He nodded. “I shall follow soon after. Good-night, Miss Rogers.”
“Good-night, sir.”
As she slipped from the drawing room, one of the footmen, waiting in the corridor, waved her over. “Evenin’, Miss Rogers.”
She nodded. “Jack.”
“I heard her ladyship’s gone out for the evening.”
Was the man fishing for gossip?
“She has,” Hannah replied evenly. “Sir John was just lamenting the fact that she had a prior engagement on such a night as this.”
“I imagine that was a bit awkward, just the two of you in there. Alone.”
If she wasn’t careful, Jack would be gossiping about her next. She bit back a rebuke and feigned nonchalance instead. “Not too bad,” she said with a shrug. “I believe he thought I missed her company, so he conversed with me to pass the time. Kind of him, but we have so little to talk about.”
“Does he really believe her ladyship is out at some charity meeting or whatever lie she fed him? Douglas hated having totake the horse and carriage out in this, I can tell you. Charity meeting, my eye.”
“I have no idea. Well, good-night, Jack.”
“Miss.”
She had neglected to bring a lamp up the stairs with her, but the candle on the landing guided her well enough. Besides, she knew the way by now. She passed Lady Mayfield’s room, then Sir John’s dressing room and bedchamber, before a sound drew her back.
