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‘I agree.’ There was a catch in his voice and he turned his face from hers.
‘Is something wrong?’ She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Kit, explain. We are friends. I want to know.’
He turned back towards her. His eyes held a distinctly sultry look which caused a warm curl to wind its way around her insides. ‘I normally never let my lady buy me anything.’
A warm shiver went down her back. She envied the unknown lady who would be his. A longing to feel his lips against hers and the touch of his hand against her skin filled her.
‘But I’m not yours, am I?’ she returned more tartly than she had intended. ‘It is a gift from a friend, nothing more.’
His eyes bore into her, searching down to her soul. Hattie returned his gaze as steadily as she could, hoping he didn’t see the white lie.
‘I stand corrected,’ he said finally. ‘In that case I shall be delighted to accept the gift. Child that I am.’
‘Play with it wisely. It is what I always tell my nieces and nephews when I give them a toy,’ she joked after she had paid the wizened toymaker.
Keep it light. She needed to keep it light. She gripped her reticule tighter. Their time was coming to an end and she didn’t want it to.
She could easily imagine what one of his London mistresses would be like—the highly sophisticated way she’d laugh and how her gestures would be perfectly poised. Everything she wasn’t and could never be.
‘I intend to treasure it.’ Kit tucked it into his breast pocket. ‘It should be safe there. Thank you, Hattie. It is a first being given something like this from a woman, but then you are unique.’
Hattie dipped her head. There was a wealth of meaning in those words. If she wasn’t careful, she would start wanting to be kissed again. And that would be a very bad idea. ‘I should get back to the family. Livvy and Portia will be wondering what has happened to me.’
‘Surely they can spare you for a while longer yet? There must be some part of the fair you haven’t explored. Perhaps you’d like your fortune told. There are always gypsies at fairs like these.’
‘I’m not overfond of fortune tellers. My husband used to enjoy such pastimes.’
‘And you gave them up as frivolous on his death.’ He held up his hand. ‘Say no more, Hattie. Your past defines you.’
‘That is not it at all.’
‘Why can’t you linger with me a while? We won’t have our fortune told. We can enjoy the fair in other ways.’
‘They count on me. I don’t know where I’d be without them.’ A sudden chill passed through Hattie. She’d been so close to agreeing. She needed to keep this friendship light and easy, but not lose sense of what was truly important in her life, permanent and lasting—her family. ‘It helped so much to have them near after Charles’s death. They restored my faith in humanity.’
‘You should try living for yourself more.’
‘It’s funny...that is precisely what Mrs Reynaud said.’ She straightened her back. ‘You mustn’t worry. Once they are grown, I intend to travel the world, really travel. There are so many places I long to see. I make a list every year. I only stay in Northumberland because Stephanie and her girls can’t cope without me.’
‘Mrs Reynaud?’ A puzzled look came on his face and he seemed to go rigid. ‘Do you know someone called Reynaud?’
‘An elderly lady. One of your tenants. At Pearl Cottage.’
‘None of my tenants is called Reynaud. I would know.’
‘Perhaps she used a different name.’ Hattie gave a little shrug. ‘Her agreement was with your uncle. I think she knew your family when she was younger.’ Hattie lowered her voice. ‘She has led an exciting life and doles out tales of her wickedness. Stephanie doesn’t entirely approve of her, but I enjoy her company.’
Kit’s face became carved out of stone. All humour and goodwill had vanished. ‘I can’t remember ever meeting a Mrs Reynaud. What does she look like?’
‘She says she is much altered. A few years ago before she came to the Tyne Valley, she suffered from smallpox and totally lost her looks. Recently she has become more of a recluse than ever. Mrs Belter told me that she had refused to come to the fair because the children might point their fingers and call her a witch.’
Kit tapped his fingers together. He looked her up and down in an assessing sort of way. Hattie was aware of the simplicity of her dress and the fact that it was several seasons old. He must consider it hopelessly naïve and unattractive. He took a step closer to her and his eyes became almost feline.
