Michelle Styles - Regency Bride

‘I am undecided about what to do with the Lodge.’ The tone in his voice seemed to indicate something troubled him more than the Lodge.

‘And will you be doing up your tenants’ houses?’ Hattie asked, trying to steer the conversation away from their friendship.

‘They appear to be in good order. My uncle may not have cared for his own comforts, but he did make sure that his tenants all had a roof over their heads.’ Kit drew himself up to his full height. ‘I do employ the same estate manager. No one has been to me with complaints about him.’

She thought about Mrs Reynaud and how she had mentioned him. It would be the perfect opportunity for them to renew their acquaintance. ‘Perhaps your tenants might like to meet you. People like the personal touch rather than being treated like a component in one of those newfangled machines. You hardly want to be considered aloof.’

He quirked his eyebrow. ‘Are you seeking to teach me my duty now, Mrs Wilkinson?’

‘No. It was merely a suggestion. I believe they feared you would never arrive.’

‘Sir Christopher, there you are.’ A trilling voice called behind Hattie. ‘Mama and I thought we had lost you. I should be most distressed if that happened.’

Miss Dent and Maria Richley. How many other women after that? Hattie ground her teeth. Had he lied when he said that he only pursued one woman at a time? Kit knew what he was on about. She shouldn’t have to spell out how tenacious the Dents could be. He had the perfect right to see anyone he wanted.

‘Miss Dent, I was endeavouring to follow, but circumstances dictated otherwise. Please go on to our arrangement. I will follow you shortly.’ He inclined his head. ‘You must excuse me, Mrs Wilkinson. We must continue this highly interesting conversation some other time. I did promise Miss Dent that I would join her father for a cup of coffee in the Reading Room. He apparently knows a good joiner and the staircase at the Lodge will have to be replaced.’

Hattie kept her head up. It was not as if she had any claim on him. She had made her choice the other day. And if anything, her encounter showed that she was wrong to suspect his hand in Dr Hornby’s odd behaviour.

‘You are busy, you should have said. The social whirl surrounding this year’s fair has been phenomenal. I’ve no wish to keep you … from your duties.’

‘I’m never too busy to speak with a friend.’

‘I thought …’ She attempted to focus on the coal scuttles, grates and variety that adorned the walls of the ironmonger’s rather than on Kit’s face.

‘We remain friends.’ There was no mistaking the finality in Kit’s voice. ‘We may have quarrelled, but it is settled now. What is friendship without quarrels? Life would be very dull indeed.’

The air rushed out of her lungs. He was determined to ignore her letter. It shouldn’t make her heart feel so light, but it did. ‘Yes … yes, of course.’

His smile brought sunshine into the gloom of the ironmonger’s. She wasn’t going to ask for more than he could give. She knew what he was. He was precisely the same as Charles and if she ever forgot that for a moment, she’d lose her way. She was not going to be betrayed like that again. ‘I knew you’d see it my way.’ His smile increased as he rocked back on his heels. ‘I burnt your letter. It held little of value.’

‘You burnt it? Did you even read it?’

‘I know why it was written, Hattie. And you are wrong to be afraid. I wanted to let you know that.’

She was conscious of staring at him for a heartbeat too long, of drinking in his features. She was very glad now that he hadn’t read the pretentious twaddle. It didn’t change things. Serious flirtations were out. The risks were too great. ‘I’m not afraid.’

‘That is good to know.’

‘There are things I must do.’ Hattie forced her chin upwards so she looked Kit directly in the eye. Here she retook control of the conversation. ‘Mr Ogle was going to fix Mrs Belter’s firebox. It needs to be done or I shall have to order another stove at the Stagshaw fair.’

‘Who is Mrs Belter?’

‘One of my brother-in-law’s tenants. Stephanie can’t be counted on to ensure my brother-in-law knows how they are doing. Over the years, I took the responsibility on. It keeps me out of mischief and makes everyone’s lives happier.’

‘Far be it from me to keep you from doing anything.’ He put two fingers to his hat. ‘Until the fair, Mrs Wilkinson.’

Hattie put a hand to her head as she stepped back into the shop. He probably thought her sighing from love just like Miss Dent and Maria Richley. She gave a little smile. The next time she encountered him, she would not feed his self-importance. Until the fair. Had she agreed to meet him? Did he think they were going to meet? Impossible! She had to find him and tell him that it was not going to happen.

Hattie hurried back out of the ironmonger’s. Her feet skittered to a stop.

Kit stood facing the door, arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. She curled her fists. He knew she’d appear. He had waited for her to appear. Silently she cursed for behaving precisely as he thought she would. Seven years after Charles’s betrayal and she acted worse than Livvy.

‘Is there a problem, Mrs Wilkinson?’

‘I … that is …’ The words stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard and tried again. This time she stuck her chin in the air and took refuge in her dignity. ‘I had no plans to see you during the fair.’

‘But you have no objections, should it happen?’

Hattie waved her reticule in the air in a gesture of magnanimity. ‘If it happens, I will not cut you.’

‘You have relieved my mind.’ His eyes danced. ‘The thought has kept me awake in recent nights. What could be worse than being cut by Mrs Wilkinson at the Stagshaw fair? How can I prevent it?’

Hattie allowed her hand to drop to her side. All the pretence flowed out of her. ‘You are laughing at me. You think me a censorious widow who has forgotten what it is like to be alive.’

‘Not at all. I’m not given to flights of fancy. I do have the honour of having been on a picnic with you. I have heard you laugh.’

‘Then what?’ She found the answer mattered suddenly.

The dimple in the corner of his mouth deepened. His gaze seemed to pierce her very soul. ‘I’m merely welcoming our return to friendship. Nothing more. Your servant, Mrs Wilkinson. Stop being so hard on yourself.’

‘Hurry up, Livvy,’ Hattie called from the governess cart just after ten on the fourth of July. ‘You don’t want to be late for the fair. Your mother and father left over an hour ago.’

Portia had run over and clambered immediately in, but Livvy slowly picked her way across the puddles, holding a white parasol over her head. Hattie wanted to get out of the governess cart and bodily pick her up. All night she had thought about Kit and how she’d behave during the fair. They were friends. The fact that she kept remembering the kiss they had shared was her problem.

‘Isn’t the sun fierce this year?’ Livvy said, finally getting into the cart. ‘You will freckle, Portia, if you don’t pull your hat forwards.’

Portia stuck out her tongue and pushed the straw bonnet back.

‘If there is any bickering, you can stay at home.’ Hattie gave the reins a shake and the horse started off smartly. All she could hope was that the day improved. This was the sort of thing she loved—being with her nieces. Except today, it felt a bit like everyone took her for granted. There was a question of how she greeted Kit as she had not bothered to inform Stephanie about the precise ending of hostilities. ‘I mean it, Portia and Livvy. I want no repeats of last year.’