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‘I thought I’d worn a crown of braids long enough. I like the ringlets.’ Hattie tilted her head and regarded her sister through narrowed eyes. Stephanie had to be redirected before she started asking awkward questions. ‘You are changing the subject, Stephanie. It generally means you are losing the argument.’
‘You always look for the ulterior motive. I noticed it and I like it. I can also guess the reason.’ Stephanie reached over and squeezed Hattie’s hand. ‘I’m your sister. I care about you, but you need to be careful. Sir Christopher has a much different stamp than your dear, but now long-departed, Captain Wilkinson. You were always too reckless, Hattie, even as a girl. I can’t help fearing for your reputation. I want to make it right for you.’
Stephanie was worried about her. She was tempted to tell her that Sir Christopher was a man of entirely different sensibility than Charles, but it would leave her open to questioning and, having faced one storm last night, she knew she couldn’t face another. And she had to wonder how much Stephanie knew or guessed. Her husband had been a friend of sorts to Charles.
‘Mrs Wilkinson was merely doing her Christian duty,’ Kit’s lazy voice said from the doorway before Hattie could think up a coherent answer. ‘Surely no one would stoop so low as to accuse a woman who is doing her Christian duty of untoward behaviour?’
Stephanie gave a little panicked cry and ducked her head. Hattie saw him, standing in the doorway, dressed in his clothes with an intricately tied neckcloth. He carried his body stiffly as if badly bruised. Her heart gave a little skip and she was pleased that she’d changed into her dimity with the tiny blue flowers embroidered on it. Portia always declared that it was her favourite dress as it made Hattie look sparkly.
From Kit’s grim expression as he bent down to greet Moth, she had to wonder how long he’d been standing there and how much he’d heard.
Stephanie cleared her throat several times, obviously having the same concerns as Hattie. Hattie fought the temptation to laugh.
‘Sir Christopher, you are up... That is to say—this is a most unexpected development. But welcome. A welcome development. Dear Hattie is such a good nurse. Quite devoted to it.’
‘Then you will agree I was in good hands.’
‘Very good hands.’ Stephanie turned several deeper shades of plum. ‘You are dressed, Sir Christopher.’
‘He could hardly come down in a borrowed nightshirt,’ Hattie said crossly. Stephanie had no right to be quizzing Kit in this manner. And Kit had no right to be up. Her carefully arranged plans of going up to see him after breakfast when she looked fresh and lovely were in smithereens. ‘Really, Stephanie, you do spout some nonsense.’
‘My valet arrived very early this morning with my clothes. I believe the ride over from Southview did him good. Cleared his thick head. He spent rather too much time in the ale tent yesterday.’ His smile failed to reach his eyes. ‘He wished to make amends and brought fresh clothes.’
‘You are able to move about?’ Stephanie gasped.
‘The doctor advised strict bed rest.’ Hattie put her hand on her stomach and wished she hadn’t eaten that square of toast. Kit was dressed as if he was preparing to depart. Did he regret their late-night conversation? Had she dreamt it?
‘I don’t care a fig for the doctor’s advice.’ His deep-grey gaze met hers. ‘I do, however, care about your reputation. I came to the same conclusion as Mrs Parteger. It is commendable but unwise to have me as a guest when Johnson is more than capable of looking after me.’
‘And your plans?’ Hattie tapped a finger on the table top. Everyone had neglected to consult her. Surely, at twenty-seven, she was more than capable of making the correct choices?
‘I shall journey slowly and sedately back to the Lodge in my carriage.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘You may direct all well-wishers there, but you must under pain of death retain any strengthening concoctions such as calves’-foot jelly. The very thought turns my stomach.’
‘Allow me to be concerned about my reputation,’ Hattie said between gritted teeth.
‘Nevertheless, my mind is made up. Johnson should be returning with the carriage within the hour.’ He inclined his head. ‘I do hope there is some chocolate. I would hate to leave without partaking of breakfast. I trust that meets with your approval, Mrs Parteger?’
Without waiting for an invitation, he came in and took a seat opposite Hattie. She carefully poured him a cup of chocolate. He took it, but made sure their fingers briefly touched.
