A Secret Affair

has a deep emotional involvement in the matter, and I have a deep emotional involvement with him.”

She had not meant to put it quite like that. But the words were out now, and they were the truth. One ought to tell the truth to a clergyman.

“I understand, Your Grace,” he said, and it seemed to Hannah that indeed he did.

“I have urgent business elsewhere in the house,” she said, “and must be an imperfect hostess, I am afraid, Mr. Newcombe, and quit this room. I will leave you Barbara, however. I daresay she will do her best to entertain you in my absence.”

“I daresay she will, Your Grace,” he agreed.

Hannah smiled at him, and he smiled back with such sweet good humor that she might have fallen in love with him herself if there had been a vacancy in her heart.

She smiled and winked at Barbara with the eye that was farthest from the Reverend Simon Newcombe and hurried from the room just as if she really did have a thousand and one tasks awaiting her.

What was happening in Gloucestershire? And why did no one think to write to her?

Chapter 20

THE REVEREND NEWCOMBE had come all the way to London, and the most entertaining thing he could find to do on his first full day there was visit a bookshop on Oxford Street that he remembered from his student days.

He had come to Dunbarton House to invite Barbara and Hannah to accompany him. And Barbara was glowing with enthusiasm at the prospect.

Hannah gazed from one to the other of them as they all sat in the drawing room drinking coffee. It really was quite extraordinary. It was not even a shop for new books. It was probably filled with dust. It was undoubtedly filled too with old tomes so dry that they were crumbling away to create more dust.

“You must come with us, Hannah,” Barbara pleaded. “You have scarcely been over the doorstep for several days, and the sun is shining again today. You must not fear that you will be in the way.” She blushed.

“I fear no such thing,” Hannah said. “You are both too polite to admit even to yourselves that my presence would be de trop. I shall go walking in Hyde Park this afternoon and receive my court and learn all the newest gossip with which to regale you both at dinner. You will dine here, Mr. Newcombe?”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, inclining his head. “I—”

He was interrupted by a tap on the drawing room door.

“The Earl and Countess of Merton wish to know if you are at home, Your Grace,” the butler said when he had opened it.

Hannah shot to her feet. Cassandra? And the earl too?

“Show them up,” she said.

It was as much as she could do not to run after him and overtake him on the stairs so that she could arrive in the hall ahead of him and discover what had happened.

“The Earl of Merton,” Barbara was explaining to her vicar, “went to Ainsley Park with the Duke of Moreland to see what they could do to intercede for the condemned man.”

“Yes,” the Reverend Newcombe said, “I remember the names from your letter, Barb. And now the earl has returned, perhaps with news. Let us hope it is good news. Your concern for a poor misguided man, Your Grace, does you great credit. But it does not surprise me. Barbara has told me—”

Hannah stopped listening. Not because she was being deliberately impolite, but because her thoughts were whirling out of control. She stepped as close to the door as she could and not be bowled over by it when it opened again. She clasped her hands at her waist. She tried to gather her dignity about her.

The Duke of Moreland had not come with the earl? Constantine had not?

There was a tap on the door and it opened again. “The Earl and Countess of Merton, Your Grace,” the butler announced.

The earl looked travel worn. Although his clothes did not look unduly rumpled or his face unshaven, there were signs of weariness about his eyes, and it seemed to Hannah that he must have returned home to Merton House only long enough to see his wife. And Cassandra was—beaming.

“All is well,” she said and hurried forward to catch Hannah up in her arms. “All is well, Hannah.”

Hannah sagged with relief as she submitted to the hug.

“I daresay you knew as much, Your Grace,” the earl said. “It is you who must have persuaded the king to intervene. But I suppose you have been anxious anyway to hear that the pardon arrived in time. It did. With three days to spare, in fact.”

Only three days?

“It was a complete pardon,” he added. “Jess Barnes is free. I promised Con when I left that I would let you know within an hour of my return to London. And I took the liberty of traveling here in your carriage, Your Grace. Con will come with Elliott later.”

“With the Duke of Moreland?” Hannah raised her eyebrows. “The two of them together in one carriage?”

He grinned.

“And they will probably not even come to blows,” he said. “Or preserve a stony silence either.”

“They have settled that foolish quarrel?” Hannah asked.

“They have,” he said. “For the first time I have seen them together as they must have been most of their lives before I met them both. They talk incessantly and joke—and even argue. And lest you need more assurance, I will add that it was upon Elliott’s shoulder Con chose to weep when he read the king’s pardon even though mine was just as close and just as available.”

“Oh.” Hannah pressed her hands together and brought her mouth down to the tips of her fingers. She closed her eyes and pictured Constantine weeping. How embarrassed he must have been. And how furious he would be if he knew that his cousin was telling her about it.

Men could be very foolish about such things.

How strange that one could be so wrong about another person. She had always called him the devil to herself. He looked dark and dangerous enough to justify the name. He was quite the opposite. He was all light and love and compassion. Oh, and perhaps a little dark and dangerous too. He was a dizzying mix of human qualities, in fact—as most people were.

She positively ached with love for him, foolish woman that she was.

All of which was quite inappropriate to the moment anyway. She lifted her head, smiled, and turned to introduce her visitors to the Reverend Newcombe.

He and Barbara were both on their feet. Barbara’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She hurried forward to hug Hannah.

“I knew the king would not forget,” she said.

Would this now be the end, Hannah wondered. The earl had just said that Constantine would travel back to town with the Duke of Moreland. But would he change his mind and stay at Ainsley since the Season was already more than half over? Would he need to stay, as he had intended anyway, to help console poor Jess and soothe some ruffled feathers among his neighbors? Now that he was away from her, would he decide that this was a convenient time to end their affair?

She had told him she loved him. That might persuade him to keep his distance from her for the next year or two.

Or would he come back? Would he resume their affair as though there had been no interruption?

Would she?

She had not thought about it before now. And now was not an appropriate time. She had two sets of visitors to entertain, though Cassandra was in the process of explaining that they would not stay, that they must go