Chapter 12
“He was going to s-see some other woman,” Hannah sobbed, clutching Sophie’s arm as her friend held her, smoothing her hair and trying to comfort her.
She had tried to come here and act nonchalant about the whole affair. But the moment she’d seen Sophie, there had been no controlling herself. Despite Rowan’s presence, she had collapsed into tears and told the two of them the entire awful story. Of failing to confess her heart to her husband, of making plans to try again to do just that and of finding the message from this…Vanessa. With her pretty, feminine handwriting and her use of the word “your” when she signed off her letter.
“You don’t know what that means,” Rowan said softly.
Both she and Sophie jerked their faces toward him, and he took a long step back. “Listen before you throw your tea at me,” he said with a shake of his head. “Or make me sleep on the settee tonight.”
Sophie glared. “Go ahead.”
“You are jumping to a conclusion,” he said. “You saw a letter from some woman asking Cavendish to help her. But there is no indication that they are continuing to have a relationship.”
“Continuing?” Sophie asked, her voice going sharp.
“Damn it,” Rowan muttered. “Very well, I recognize the name Vanessa. She’s a courtesan, and she and Duncan were…affiliated.”
“She was his mistress?” Hannah gasped, lifting her hands to her mouth. This was worse than she’d ever thought.
“Shewas,” Rowan said, emphasizing the word. “They parted ways before he met you, before he married you.”
“Why else would he be going to see her except to start up with her again?” Hannah asked, the tears starting again.
“Well, you won’t know until youtalk to him.” Rowan threw up his hands. “Hannah, I adore you, but your life with your father, always waiting for some axe to drop on you, it hasn’t made you exactly trusting of others. Now, perhaps you are correct that Duncan was meeting her in order to reconnect. But the note you describe is from a woman in some kind of trouble. It might just be he is a decent person who wanted to help an old friend. But you won’t know until you confront this.”
Sophie pursed her lips. “Much as I hate to admit it, my husband is right. You’ve avoided talking to him before to keep from hearing what you consider to be bad news. You are doing it again now by coming here and hiding from him.”
Hannah shifted in her place. “I-I suppose,” she whispered. “But I’m so afraid of what he’ll say. What if—”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Sophie interrupted. “I lived inwhat iffor years.”
Hannah worried her lip as she glanced up at Sophie, then Rowan. “Fine. I’ll speak to him. But not tonight. Please don’t make me go back there tonight. I will become hysterical and make a cake out of myself. Please let me stay here tonight. Then I promise I’ll go home to him and talk to him.”
Sophie sighed. “Of course.”
Rowan’s brow wrinkled. “Write him a note telling him you’ll stay with us tonight. I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”
Hannah let out her breath. It felt like her friends were offering her a reprieve, however brief, from a devastating blow. But whether it happened today, tomorrow or in a week, she still knew it was coming. Because she couldn’t have faith in Duncan, and she didn’t have faith in herself.
* * *
Duncan looked up from his paper as Hartley stepped into the study. “Is my wife back?” he asked.
“No, sir. But Mr. Sinclair has arrived and wishes to see you.”
“Sinclair?” Duncan repeated, jumping up. “Send him in at once.”
As Hartley left to do so, Duncan began to pace. He’d been sorry that Hannah was not home when he returned, but not overly concerned. But as the hours had passed, he’d grown more and more restless in his desire to see her. That her best friend’s husband was here now, but not her…well, it left a sour feeling in the pit of Duncan’s stomach.
Sinclair stepped into the room, his mouth a thin line. He moved forward, hand outstretched and a note clenched in his fingers. “I am only the messenger.”
Duncan stared at him a moment, then ripped the note from his fingers. He tore the paper in his hurry to unfold it and read the terse, short message in Hannah’s shaky hand.
Iintend to stay with Rowan and Sophie tonight. Please don’t expect me.
Hannah Cavendish
He frowned at every piece of the message. She’d even formally signed her entire name. Like he was a stranger.
