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‘He is far too diffident. I doubt he has any idea about women.’
Hattie moved the conversation on to much safer topics. When she next saw Kit, she’d tackle him about the gloves. But whatever he had intended, the gloves now belonged to Livvy. Hattie quite looked forward to quizzing him about it.
* * *
The sickroom was immaculate. No sign beyond the tidily folded laundry that Kit had ever slept here. Hattie regarded it with distaste. She had come up immediately after Stephanie left, hoping for a little clue or perhaps a forgotten article which would enable her to visit him.
Hattie caught sight of her stricken reflection in the little mirror over the chest of drawers.
‘What did you expect, my girl? You knew he had suffered from a concussion. He probably doesn’t even remember.’
The irony did not escape her. How could she go to him and ask? What did one say—when you were suffering from a concussion, you promised to make love to me? Will you do so now? The mere thought made her feel sick to her stomach.
A great wave of tiredness came over her and she stumbled to her bedroom. Everything would be clearer after a sleep.
She put her hand to her head as a wave of dizziness passed through her. Whatever happened, she was not going to humiliate herself again. She was going to retreat and lie down.
There, propped up on the middle of her bed, was a single red rose and a note. Hattie’s tiredness melted away.
With trembling fingers, Hattie undid the sealing wax and opened to the note.
Summer house in your garden. Four p.m. Tomorrow. If you are still willing. Kit.
Hattie sank down on the soft bed. He’d left her a note where only she would find it.
She pressed the note to her lips, trying to think. He’d given her an option and had preserved her reputation in case she changed her mind.
Hattie tightened her grip on the paper. Retreating was the last thing she wanted to do.
She’d be naïve if she thought she was anything but a distraction. She knew the boundaries going in. This was not about love or finer feelings. She’d had all those words from Charles and had believed them. This was about proving her independence.
She could stop living the life that Charles had chosen for her now. She had a choice and she intended to take it.
She gulped twice. What did one wear to a seduction?
* * *
The garden was bathed in warm golden sun the next afternoon. Hattie had sent Mrs Hampstead to Highfield on the pretext of helping Livvy get ready for the dinner party the Dents were giving. She claimed tiredness and the wish to have some peace after the turmoil of the last few days. Mrs Hampstead had taken Moth with her so that Hattie could sleep properly and undisturbed.
A life of half-truths had begun, Hattie thought with a wry smile. Perhaps it said something about her that they sprang so easily to her lips. She had been certain that Mrs Hampstead guessed, but she accepted
Hattie’s rather garbled explanation.
At first, Hattie considered that no one was there, but then she saw movement in the shadows.
‘Kit?’ she called softly, wondering precisely how one went about this new life of sin.
When she had gone to the summer house with Charles, he had led the way, insisting that she could see the fireworks better from there. She had been far too young and in love with love to question him. It had seemed a dream that someone so handsome and at ease with society, not to mention brave, should be interested in her. She had never thought about it until far too late. Then, looking back with the benefit of hindsight, she had seen the signs—the unexplained absences, the moodiness, the perfunctory love-making. It was not going to happen again. This time, she wasn’t going to give her heart.
He appeared in the doorway. He was simply dressed and bareheaded. The bruising on his face was starting to come out and gave him a decidedly roguish appearance.
‘You made your decision.’
‘It was painfully easy.’ She held out her hands. ‘I’m not certain about what happens next.’
He crossed the short distance between them. His fingers touched her jaw. ‘We go slowly. It happens at the pace you want it to happen.’
‘I sent Mrs Hampstead to Highfield. We have about two hours before she returns, I imagine.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘And that will be long enough?’
‘More than ample. I want to do everything in my power to prevent Mrs Hampstead from guessing.’
‘Mrs Hampstead is no fool.’ His face sobered. ‘You will need her as an ally rather than as an enemy. On another note, while we are together in public, we must not take chances.’
