Page 44 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Hannah would not blush. She refused to be embarrassed. She wouldn’t think about her encounter with Killian in the study.
‘You’ve gone quite flushed. What happened?’ Philippa stood from the bed and narrowed her gaze.
Bloody hell!
‘Nothing happened. Well, I was interrupted by Lord Cavendale, his son, and Lord Killian.’
‘Really? Interesting. What exactly were they meeting about?’
For once, Hannah didn’t want to share all her information with Philippa. Alfred Cavendale blamed Killian for his brother’s death. And for some reason, Killian seemed to agree. She hadn’t seen their faces, but she heard the accusation in Alfred’s words and the shame in Killian’s response. For reasons she refused toexamine, she didn’t want to share Killian’s disgrace with Philippa.
Hearing the undisguised hatred in Alfred’s voice as he hurled insults at Killian made her hope Alfred was the killer. She wanted an excuse to hurt him. What kind of woman wanted to hurt a grieving brother? Most probably a very bad woman.
Hannah forced her thoughts back to the conversation with Philippa. ‘Lord Killian was speaking about Patrick, the youngest Cavendale son. Apparently, Lieutenant General Killian was Patrick’s commanding officer and was there when he died. Alfred was incredibly rude about the whole situation. It’s all rather complicated. It seems Alfred always held his brother in high esteem. He even joined some secret society when Patrick entered the military. Lord Cavendale did his best to make up for Alfred’s ungentlemanly conduct toward Killian.’
Philippa tapped the riding crop against her lip. ‘Killian?’
Hannah swiped at an imaginary speck of dust on the table. ‘Lieutenant General Killian.’
‘Hmm.’ Philippa’s gaze remained steady on Hannah.
Betty put a final pin in Hannah’s hair. Hannah turned and smiled at her maid. ‘Well done, Betty. Even with all my fidgeting.’
‘You look ever so lovely in rose, miss. If you don’t mind me saying. I don’t know why you always wear such dull colours when…’ Betty slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes widened.
‘Don’t worry, Betty. You’re quite right. Miss Simmons may need to re-think her wardrobe soon. Especially now she’s on a first-name basis with Lord Killian. I doubt the Duke of Covington will stand for his wife being shrouded in greys and browns.’
‘His first name is Robert, as you well know. And I’m hardly a candidate to become his wife.’ Hannah crossed her arms over the white bone buttons running down the front of her riding habit.
‘Then you had better be very careful about how familiar you become with the duke, Hannah.’ Philippa stepped closer, putting her hand on Hannah’s arm. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt.’
Hannah bit her lip as a hot wave of embarrassment engulfed her. ‘You are the one who spoke to me about the tenderness one might feel for another. You asked if I was interested in Killian, er, I mean, Lord Killian.’
Philippa pulled back her hand. ‘Yes, and you told me you weren’t the least inclined to find flirtations with the duke appealing. It seems your tune has changed.’
Hannah tipped up her chin and pressed her heels into the carpet. ‘As has yours. Why are you so opposed to my interests?’ She rarely fought with Philippa and hated when conflicts arose between them.
‘Just be careful. Your heart is far more fragile than you think. Men can be cruel and careless when it comes to the tender parts of a woman.’ Philippa glanced away, and Hannah thought of Lord Winterbourne. He had been so kind to her mother, but her suspicions about his treatment of Philippa grew darker.
‘Is this why you’ve taken such a keen interest in your role as chaperone?’
Philippa shrugged. She looked out the window instead of at Hannah.
Hannah closed the distance between them. ‘I’ll be careful, Philippa. I promise. This is not an engagement of the heart. I just have questions he is willing to answer. Is that so wrong?’
Philippa slapped the riding crop against her hand. ‘No. It’s natural. It’s bloody well encouraged in men. Why shouldn’t we be allowed our share of desire? If you only want a physical relationship with him, I encourage you to do it and feel no shame. But Hannah, I see how you’ve been looking at him. How he looks at you. Physical attraction can so easily turn into something more.’
Hannah shook her head. Philippa was worried for nothing. ‘It won’t. I promise.’
Philippa held Hannah’s gaze. ‘I hope you’re right. Because if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.’
Hannah didn’t doubt Philippa’s words nor the unspoken love prompting them.
‘You won’t have to. I’ll kill him myself and save you the trouble. But Philippa, I won’t let him hurt me.’ Before she could think about it, Hannah leaned forward and hugged Philippa. The older woman stiffened in her arms, dropping her riding crop. Hannah breathed in the rich scent of jasmine and something darker, frankincense or sandalwood. She released Philippa and stepped back.
Betty gulped in a breath and dropped the brush she was holding. Philippa retrieved her crop, thwacking it against her boot for good measure. Hannah smiled before sighing dramatically. ‘I suppose we should go downstairs so I can hurry up and fall off a blasted horse.’
‘Indeed.’ Philippa pressed her lips together. Hannah wondered if they trembled, or perhaps her patroness was just irritated by such an unexpected display of affection. Before she could decide if she’d cracked the duchess’s impenetrable shell, Philippa turned and led the way out of Hannah’s room.
