Ann Lethbridge - Regency Affairs Part 2 - Books 7-12 Of 12

‘I dare say he will do for a chaperon for this picnic of yours or you can take Mrs Hampstead if you wish to have conversation on subjects other than amphibians. The man will not be moved. I did try.’

‘Surely it is better for Livvy to realise what a bore Mr Hook is rather than to sigh for the love of his fine eyes. You can allow Livvy to accompany me,’ Hattie said firmly, giving her final argument.

‘Hattie, I do despair. Livvy is too young for such things.’ Stephanie made a superior clucking noise. ‘Sir Christopher Foxton pursues you. You should allow yourself to be caught and then force the marriage. It is how it is done.’

‘You’ve muddled everything, Stephanie. The visit was about Mr Hook properly courting Livvy, rather than Livvy arranging clandestine meetings with her fan.’

‘Pshaw!’ Stephanie slammed her hand down on the table. ‘My little Livvy would never do such a thing. Besides, Mr Hook was not acquainted with Livvy until today. Sir Christopher formally introduced him.’

With a heavy heart, Hattie rapidly explained the events of last evening, emphasising that Sir Christopher had only danced with her to prove a point about making assumptions. A forfeit, nothing more and then she’d left him standing on the dance floor.

‘According to your tale, Sir Christopher was already chaperoning. Why was he there if not to ensure that nothing untoward happened to my dear girl? I do declare that people have done him a grave disservice in the past. He is the most perfect of gentlemen. I refuse to hear another disparaging word said against him.’ Stephanie leant forwards and gestured with her fan. ‘That is the end of the matter. Sometimes I worry that you became a walking ghost after your husband died. Why not enjoy the fun of a mild flirtation? After all, it is not as if you don’t know where the boundaries lie.’

Hattie pinched the bridge of her nose. The conversation was starting to spin out of control. She refused to confess after all these years. At first it had been far too hard and Stephanie had never enquired. Her throat had swelled every time she thought about Charles and how he’d used her, how she’d stood mourning at his grave, bereft, and then had discovered about his other family, the woman he’d loved. And she had felt so stupid.

Her whole idyllic life had been a lie. Never again would she make the mistake of loving someone who could not love her back. Her blood ran cold every time she considered it.

‘You would have to ask him why he was in that card room.’

‘And you should ask yourself why he chose to dance with you and then to invite you specifically on a picnic. Now shall we speak about the colour of ribbon you will wear on your bonnet to this picnic?’

Hattie ignored Stephanie’s peace offering. ‘Why do you want me to go on this picnic alone? Do you truly want me to ruin my reputation?’

‘You are a sensible widow of twenty-seven who learnt your lesson years ago. If it had been anyone but Charles in that summer house, I shudder to think what would have happened. He worshipped the ground you walked on back then … It was utterly romantic. Your wedding when you fainted at the altar was so … so special. Then he had to leave to go to the front and wrote you such beautiful letters. They made me weep when you showed them to me.’

‘Yes, I was lucky there.’ Hattie fought to keep the irony out of her voice.

Stephanie smiled. ‘I want you to have your last chance at a second marriage. Go on the picnic with Sir Christopher without distractions.’

‘Livvy and Portia are not distractions.’

‘I, too, remember last year when Portia put the lizard in Dr Hornby’s tea. He had planned to propose to you that day. Portia and Livvy never gave you that chance.’

Hattie hid a smile. It had taken her the better part of three hours to capture that lizard. ‘It happened for the best, Sister.’

‘Hmmph.’

Stephanie in these moods was insensible to reason and ever likely to come up with more transparent schemes for entrapping Sir Christopher into marriage. Hattie gave an involuntary shudder.

There was no hope for it. She refused to sit here and allow herself to become embroiled in one of Stephanie’s projects.

She would have to go and explain to Sir Christopher the dangers. He had to understand why the picnic and any hint of intimacy was an impossibility. And she had to do it before she lost her nerve.

Hattie clicked her fingers. ‘Moth, we are going.’

Her sister’s face creased. ‘Hattie, I am only doing this because I love you and want you to be happy. You need someone in your life. You looked happy when you arrived in the rose garden. Your cheeks were bright pink.’

‘I like my life with Moth, with Mrs Hampstead and with you and your children.’ She raised her chin. She refused to go back to that needy deluded girl who believed romance happened when two people’s glances met across a crowded room. Going on a picnic with Sir Christopher was not going to happen.

‘Hattie …’

‘It satisfies me. Do not tell me otherwise.’ Hattie hoped Stephanie believed her words because she was less than sure.

Hattie stood in the gloomy panelled hall of Southview Lodge. A variety of stuffed birds peered down at her. All the way here, she had planned her speech. Somehow it seemed right to explain the situation in person rather than writing a letter. Sir Christopher had to know what Stephanie was trying to do and why it would never work. The solution had come to her as she tramped home over the fields. Sir Christopher needed to know about her sister’s machinations.

She had deposited Moth with Mrs Hampstead before driving the governess cart to Southview. She intended on handling this problem on her own without interference from Moth and her penchant for investigating.

‘Mrs Wilkinson, what a pleasant surprise.’ Sir Christopher came out of his study. His stock was undone and he was in his shirtsleeves. His black hair swooped down over one eye. Despite her intentions of being aloof, a curl of warmth twined its way around her insides.

Hattie inclined her head and was pleased her straw poke bonnet shadowed her face. ‘Sir Christopher, I do hope you will forgive the intrusion.’

‘I wasn’t expecting any visitors. My uncle’s affairs are in a bigger tangle than I had anticipated. He appears to have used a code …’ He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. ‘But as you are here, you must stay and have a cup of tea. Come into the drawing room.’

‘My sister was rude in proposing that Mr Hook lecture,’ Hattie began before she lost her nerve. ‘Take no notice of her. She became dreadfully confused and believes Mr Hook is a shy newt-fancier who needs bringing out.’

‘Is this a problem?’

‘Is he … a newt-fancier? A world authority? He appears awfully young for such a thing.’

The corners of his mouth twitched. Hattie risked a breath. She might not have to confess about Stephanie’s other machinations after all.

‘Rupert confessed. He misjudged the moment. Rupert shall be spending all his time studying the habits of newts until the lecture. He should know better than to lay false claim.’

‘He doesn’t know.’ Hattie clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh dear. Just before I left the Dower House, Livvy arrived, looking for books on amphibians.’

Their shared laughter rang out.

His eyes turned sober. ‘You didn’t come all the way here simply to tell me about Rupert’s folly. Out with it, Mrs Wilkinson. What else was your sister attempting to do? Why must I be wary?’

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.