Page 63 of The Secret Life of a Lady
‘Penny told Mum and Dad summink that night.’
The suspense was killing Killian. Drake leaned forward.
‘She said Sarah was excited ’bout an in’erview for a new job. Me mum and dad knew all that, but then Penny told ’em summink else.’ Billy went quiet, drawing circles on the table with a dirty finger.
‘What? What did she tell them?’ Killian couldn’t stop the questions from bursting forth.
The boy looked up, his ancient eyes shrewd. ‘What’s it worth to you?’
15
Hannah would not read the note. Again. The folds in the paper were becoming alarmingly thin. She could recite it from memory.
Killian had been gone two days. He wouldn’t return for another two if his note was true.
Hannah pulled the parchment from her pocket and ran her fingers over the ink on the front. His long, clever fingers had formed six simple letters.
Hannah
She wouldn’t think about what things those fingers had done to her.
Thank God Philippa had left the same morning Killian did. Hannah would never be able to hide her feelings, and she had done the one thing she promised Philippa she wouldn’t. She’d fallen in love, putting her stupid heart and her fickle happiness in grave danger.
No good could come from this. Killian might hold her heart in his hands, but what future would they have? Their night togetherwas transformational, but it was also a soul-rendering lesson in impossibilities.
For a shining moment, Hannah had thought perhaps she could have it all. Love, friendship, a family. But then reality crashed in right when he began blathering about making sacrifices for the greater good. Adding painful insult to emotional injury, instead of meeting with her the next day, offering profuse apologies and professing his undying love, the bastard beat a hasty retreat to London.
A single note didn’t repair the damage. And yet Hannah couldn’t stop wondering what was in his mind when he penned the insidious words capturing her thoughts and distracting her from the mission the blasted Queen of bloody England expected her to complete.
My dearest Hannah,
Last night was more than I could have hoped for and far less than you deserved. I must leave immediately for London on business, but I shall return the day of the ball and hope you will reserve a waltz for me. There is much we must discuss. Until then, I will hold you in my thoughts.
Killian
His damnable missive created a world of questions with no answers. What did he think she deserved? Would he offer it? Why did he return to London? Was it about Sarah Bright? What on earth did he wish to discuss with her? Most importantly, while she might engage his thoughts, did any part of her capture his heart?
Betty broke into Hannah’s maudlin thoughts. She bobbed a quick curtsey, almost losing her cap.
‘Good morning, miss. Miss Cavendale and Miss Whittenburgare in the main salon if you’d like to join them?’ The maid clutched her hands together over her crisp apron.
‘You look worried, Betty. Is anything amiss?’
Betty untangled her fingers and smoothed her hands over her skirt. ‘It’s only… you don’t seem yourself, miss. If you don’t mind me saying.’
Hannah huffed out a breath and turned to the looking glass. Betty stepped closer and began twisting Hannah’s hair in a neat chignon with tendrils framing her face. Hannah’s cheeks were pale, her eyes were unfocused, and her brown dress was ever so… brown. ‘I don’t feel myself, Betty.’
‘It’s no wonder. After everything you’ve been through. Do you miss him?’ Betty immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. She spoke through her fingers. ‘It’s only I know I shall miss Sam terribly when we leave. We’ve only known each other a few days, but it feels like forever. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you.’
After Hannah’s night with Killian, Betty stripped Hannah’s bed and laundered her linens. She would have noticed the blood. And known the cause. In a way, it was a relief for Hannah to be able to share her misery with someone.
Hannah smiled, but she felt a hundred years old. ‘Yes, Betty. I imagine I do miss him. The insufferable bastard.’
‘Is he coming back?’
‘He says so.’
Betty shook her head like a school marm scolding a naughty child. ‘Lady Philippa will make him do right by you, miss. She’d shoot him dead before letting him abandon you.’
