Michelle Styles - Regency Bride

Rupert hung his head. ‘Now you are committed to going on a picnic with The Widow.’

‘Which I plan to enjoy.’ Kit frowned. The lesson in flirtation was going better than he’d hoped. It would be one that Mrs Wilkinson would not soon forget. She might not thank him for it, but her two charming nieces might benefit. ‘I could not have arranged matters better.’

‘You and Mrs Wilkinson … but she is so old.’

‘She is younger than I am.’

Rupert screwed up his face and stared out the window. ‘I had always thought … they tell stories about you and the beauties. Mrs Wilkinson will never be a toast of London.’

Kit tapped his fingers together. He refused to indulge in speculation about Hattie Wilkinson’s beauty. Rupert would not understand that it was precisely the point. Hattie Wilkinson possessed a refreshing charm that hadn’t been powdered and primped to an inch of its life.

‘One final lesson for today, Rupert. Never discuss a lady. Ever.’

‘What precisely is going on, Stephanie?’ Hattie asked once her nieces had been otherwise occupied with refurbishing their bonnets. For the first time in a long while, Livvy had expressed an interest in improving her mind, but the suggestion had been firmly quashed by her mother.

‘Whatever can you mean, dear?’ Stephanie looked up from where she was sorting out a variety of ribbons. ‘I do hope you are not going to be tiresome, Hattie, and ruin your chances again. Simply because you had a wonderful marriage that was cut cruelly short does not mean you will not find happiness again.’

Hattie sighed. Her decision not to tell anyone about the full extent of Charles’s betrayal did make for awkward moments. Stephanie refused to believe that her marriage was anything other than breathtakingly romantic. And this was the second lecture she had received today about making more of her life. Why didn’t anyone understand that she was content as she was?

‘This is Sir Christopher Foxton! Are you aware of his reputation? Marriage won’t be on offer, if he has anything beyond mere politeness in mind.’ Hattie clasped a hand to her chest and tried to regain control of her emotions. ‘There, are you satisfied? I’ve said it. He is notorious in the extreme. He will be after more than an innocent conversation.’

‘Why did he visit me and take pains to be correct?’ Stephanie rolled her eyes. ‘He brought the flirtation out in the open rather than hiding it behind closed doors. No man wants to remain a bachelor for ever.’

‘You are mistaken, Sister. Some men are determined to remain bachelors. They are far from safe in carriages or conveyances of any kind. And Sir Christopher is first amongst them.’

‘Sir Christopher seems very pleasant, rather sweet.’ Stephanie crossed her hands in her lap and gave one of her Madonna-like smiles, which always grated on Hattie’s nerves. ‘On the other hand Mr Hook was painfully ill at ease. He droned on about his blessed newts. I doubt he even knows what women are.’

‘You dislike Mr Hook’s shyness?’ Hattie stared at her sister in astonishment. She had anticipated Stephanie’s objecting to Rupert Hook on the grounds of his association with Sir Christopher, but not because of his timidity. ‘I believe you’re wrong about the man. He has an abundance of confidence.’

‘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.’