Page 19 of Lady Maybe

Through Mrs. Turrill, Sir John invited Hannah to join him for tea in his bedchamber the next day. Hannah wondered if he wished to continue the previous night’s activities. But sitting across from him that afternoon, the atmosphere was more that of a business meeting—or a courtroom—than a romantic assignation.

He sat in his invalid chair pulled up to the small table. A tray of tea things lay between them.

Hannah poured for them, and then sipped. But in her unease, she barely tasted the tea.

Sir John stirred his own tea and began, “You mentioned yesterday that you stayed to rescue Danny. You have done so and yet remain here. May I ask why?”

Hannah set down her cup. “I wish I had some more honorable answer to give you. The truth is I had nowhere else to go.”

“Could you not return to your father in Bristol?”

“My father believes I am dead. And I doubt he would be relieved to learn I am alive but have born a child out of wedlock. You must know what a shameful thing that is, especially to a clergyman like my father.”

She thought, then added, “I don’t intend to make him sound a harsh man. He is not. And perhaps he would be relieved to know I am alive. But that does not mean he would allow his fallen daughter and illegitimate grandson to live with him. He would likely lose the curacy were it known. And it would break his heart.”

“What about Bath? Where did you go after you left us?”

Hannah took a deep breath and replied, “I went to a maternity home I had seen advertised in the newspaper.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “The neighborhood was not ideal, but the matron was all warmth and kindness. At least, at first. When she realized I was a gentlewoman, she offered me a reduced rate for lodgings if I would help with sewing and correspondence and the like. I agreed, and the time passed quickly. After Danny was born, and I had recovered, Mrs. Beech offered me two options. I could stay on as wet nurse. Or, I could leave Danny with her, and for a fee, he would be cared for by one of the nurses in her employ.”

“Is that where you found Becky?” Sir John asked.

“Yes. Poor girl had lost her own child and Mrs. Beech kept her on as wet nurse. Becky is good-hearted and sincerely loves Danny, though I once feared she was not quite sound of mind. She seems much better since coming here.”

Hannah sighed, then continued, “At all events, as much as I wanted to stay with Danny, I knew that if I was ever to support the two of us, I would need to find a better situation. So, I took a place as lady’s companion to an elderly dowager, and slipped away when I could to visit Danny. The arrangement worked fairly well for a time, except that Mrs. Beech began raising her fees beyond what I had agreed to, and before I knew it, beyond what I could afford. When I fell behind in my payments, she refused to allow me to have Danny, or even to see him....”

He winced. “I wish you had come to me. I would have helped.”

She shifted uneasily. “I feared you would be obligated to confide my secret to your wife, or even to Mr. Ward, if finances were involved. Both had many connections in Bristol. I doubted a week would have passed before everyone in my home parish had heard of my fall—my own father among them.”

“That’s why you said nothing. We were concerned when you left so suddenly. I tried to find you, to no avail.”

She nodded. “Mr. Lowden mentioned that.”

He shook his head in regret. “You were in a terrible situation. When I think of all you’ve gone through ... I am sorry indeed.”

Hannah paused to relish the sweet salve of that acknowledgement. Then she said, “You should know that Dr. Parrish gave me ten pounds from your purse for the journey to Bath to collect Danny. I used it to pay what I owed, and of course for traveling expenses. But that is all I’ve taken from you, besides food and shelter.”

He held up his hand. “Don’t give it another thought—or try to pay it back.”

“I won’t.” She managed a weak chuckle. “I couldn’t.”

“I would not want you to.” He took a sip of tea and avoided her eyes. “May I ask how long you plan to stay here?”

“I planned to stay only until my arm healed and I could find a new situation. Who would hire me with my arm in a sling?”

“I see.” He bowed his head, drumming his fingers on the table, before looking up at her once more. “Then why not remain in your ... present situation?”

Hannah felt her mouth fall open. Was he really suggesting they allow the ruse to continue indefinitely? She asked, “What are you saying?”

Sir John tented his fingers and regarded her earnestly. “If you continue on as Lady Mayfield, Danny would be my heir.”

Heir? She had never considered such a possibility.

Sir John went on, “But if it were known that you and I were not married at the time of his birth, then that would not be possible. Worse yet, you would be exposed as a fraud.”

Hannah cringed. “I will be anyway, as soon as we return to Bristol.”

“Why return, then?”

“Even if we don’t, someone will come here eventually. Someone who knows I am not Marianna.”

“Perhaps.” Sir John exhaled and drew his shoulders back. “Well. Leave it with me for now. I will talk to Mr. Lowden about the options and legalities and draw up some sort of plan.”

Talk to Mr. Lowden ... Just as she’d feared he’d do.

Sir John sipped, then paused, looking at her over his teacup. “In the meantime, don’t ... go anywhere, all right?”

Hannah picked up her own cup, noticing her hand tremble. She managed a vague smile but made no promises.

Emboldened by Hannah’s recent warmth toward him, James returned to Sir John’s bedchamber that afternoon to talk sense to the man. He was his solicitor, after all. And part of his duty was to counsel his clients and help them steer clear of ruinous decisions. Though James privately acknowledged that he was no longer an impartial party in the case.

He found Sir John seated in his wheeled chair at a large oak desk, busy over correspondence. James had overheard Edgar Parrish and Ben Jones discussing how they would elevate the man’s desk on blocks, so the arms of his wheeled chair would fit under it, but this was his first time seeing the result of their handiwork.

Sir John was fully dressed, his hair and beard were neatly trimmed, and his eyes held a keen light. He certainly no longer looked like an invalid.

“Sir John, might I have a word?”

“Of course.” Sir John set his quill back into its holder and regarded him, then nodded toward the armchair in the corner. “Have a seat.”

“No, thank you.” James drew himself up. “Forgive me, but I think it my duty to counsel you against your present course. It can only end in scandal or heartbreak or both.”

Sir John gave him a wry glance. “Your professional powers now extend to matters of the heart?”

The room felt suddenly warm and stifling, but James took a deep breath and reminded himself to remain calm. He said, “Have you asked yourself—or Miss Rogers for that matter—why she has remained?”

“I do not answer to you, Mr. Lowden. Nor does she. But I will tell you that she only planned to wait until her arm healed, so she could find a situation elsewhere.”

“Are you sure that was all she was waiting for? For her arm to heal, so she could find work as someone else’s scullion? When she had tasted the life of a lady?”

Sir John frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps she was waiting for you to die, Sir John. I hate to say it so bluntly, but there it is. If you had died, she might have inherited everything, well, she and her son. Why leave for paltry wages elsewhere, when the chance at a great inheritance awaited?”

“I am surprised at you, Mr. Lowden,” Sir John said. “I thought you liked her.”

“I did. I do. But I cannot ignore the possibility.”

Sir John shook his head. “I don’t believe she ever thought of that. Not for herself. If she thought of her son’s future, I cannot blame her.”

“Can you not?” James stared at the man, frustration mounting. “What has happened to you, sir? I begin to doubt you are of sound mind after all. Do you hear yourself? A woman poses as your wife, passes off her by-blow as your son, and you ‘cannot blame her’?”

Sir John’s hand flew out and grabbed James by his cravat, yanking a fistful of linen and jerking his face down to his eye level. “Never say that again, do you hear me? If I ever hear you call the boy such a name again, I will dismiss you instantly, do I make myself clear?”

Stunned, James managed a slight nod, and his employer released his grip.

He had overstepped, he knew. And what if Hannah had heard the words he’d just spewed? “Forgive me,” James said. “I ought not to have questioned your competence nor condemned Miss Rogers.” James lowered his voice. “But, sir. Why would you make him your heir? What is he to you? He is not your son.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Lowden. That is exactly what he is. My son. My flesh and blood. Heir of the body —my body.”

James Lowden gaped at him, speechless.

Sir John continued, “Why do you think Miss Rogers left our employ in the first place?”

James made no reply. A wave of nausea curdled his stomach and he feared he would be sick.

“It is not something I’m proud of,” Sir John said. “But don’t you see? It is my chance to do something right. To redeem, in a small way, all the wrong I have done.”

James’s mind refused to accept it. “But you said the boy looked nothing like you—you saw no resemblance.”

“To myself, no. But he looks exactly like my brother, Paul.”

“Your brother? Surely you are not suggesting Miss Rogers and your brother—”

Sir John scowled. “Thunder and turf, man. Paul died at sea years ago. I wasn’t suggesting any such thing. Only that when I look at Daniel, I see the picture of my younger brother. Make no mistake, the boy is a Mayfield.”

James shook his head. “Not legally.”

“No, not legally, unless she continues on as Lady Mayfield.” Sir John crossed his arms over his chest. “You are my solicitor. I’m sure you can find a way to make it work.”

“Not ethically.” James forced out the dreaded question. “Do you mean to marry her?”

“We are already married in the eyes of everyone here.”

James shook his head. “First we must have Marianna declared dead. Then and only then can you marry Miss Rogers legally, if that is what you really intend to do.”

“But then her son could not be my legal heir, if it is known his mother and I were not married at the time of his birth.”

“Not for your entailed property, no. But you have more than sufficient funds should you decide to sponsor him through university or something along those lines.”

“But Miss Rogers would be exposed as a ... as not being who others believe she is.”

“Who she allowed others to believe she is,” James clarified. “She may not have started the lie, but she certainly perpetuated it.” Even as he said it, James wondered how he could lash out at the woman who had captured his heart. Was it really only to extricate her from Sir John’s good graces?

His client’s eyes glinted. “How bitter you sound, Mr. Lowden. And here I thought you had feelings for her yourself.”

James made no reply.

“I would not worry if I were you,” Sir John said, an ironic twist to his mouth. “Women don’t stay with me. No doubt Miss Rogers will prove no different than the rest. She will be looking for her escape any day now and there you will be—ready to rescue her.”

Mind in turmoil, James went downstairs and found Hannah alone in the drawing room, staring out the window at yet another coastal storm. For a moment he stood there gazing at her profile, remembering how his heart and body had burned when he’d held her in his arms, when he’d seen her step from her bath, and when she’d touched his face. ... Now his heart cooled and he tasted ashes in his mouth.

He cleared his throat. “Hannah ... em, Miss Rogers.”

She turned and looked at him. For several ticks of the tall case clock she studied him in silence. His shock and worry must have shown in his expression, because she whispered, “He told you, then?”

“Yes.” Betrayal snaked up his spine. “Why didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “I have never told anyone. Never spoken of it. Never would have, if Marianna still lived. In any case, I never dared imagine he might acknowledge Danny as his son. And I would never try to force him.”

“Regardless,” James said. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to stay here and pretend any longer.”

She made no answer, turning away and staring once again through the rain-streaked window.

“You don’t owe him anything,” James insisted. “Or at least, not everything . And don’t tell me you plan to continue living under another woman’s identity. That cannot stand. Marianna Mayfield’s death must be recorded.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the law. And because you are not her.”

“I know that. But I am Daniel’s mother. And like it or not, Sir John is his father.”

Bile soured his throat. “You will stay with him because he—a married man—took advantage of you while you were in his employ? That is the sort of man you want?”

“It wasn’t like that. I know it was wrong, but it wasn’t like you make it sound.”

Grasping her arms, James turned her to face him. He looked into her beguiling blue-green eyes, and pain and longing washed over him. “But you want me. I know you do.” His whole body tensed with frustration. Why would she not admit it?

He gripped her shoulders, his voice a low growl. “Hannah, tell me the truth. I need to hear you say it.”

Composure crumbling, she whispered, “James, I ... You’re right, I do ... have feelings for you. But—”

His arms whipped around her and he crushed her to him, pressing his mouth to hers, swallowing her words. For a moment she kissed him back, meeting and returning the bruising fervor of his kiss. Then she wrenched her mouth free and tried to pull back.

“James, stop. You didn’t let me finish.”

He buried his fingers in her hair and pressed his lips to her temple, her cheek, her throat. “You love me,” he whispered into her ear. “What else is there to say?”

“A great deal.” She lifted her palms to his chest and pushed a few inches of space between them. “James.” She drew in a shaky breath. “There is more to life than feelings or desire.”

He shook his head. “Nothing is more important.”

“Yes. There is self-control, and doing the right thing even when it is painful.”

“No,” he growled. “You shall not be the sacrificial lamb here. I won’t let you do this.”

He turned abruptly and strode from the room.