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‘My father disliked having women in the house.’
That simple statement combined with the jumping-jack explained so much. Her heart bled for the little boy who was never scooped up or petted or given treats. ‘How awkward.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘My father enjoyed being awkward and contrary. It was his favourite sport. He liked it even better than the horses.’
‘And you are nothing like that,’ she teased. ‘You never force anyone to anything they wish to avoid like waltzing.’
‘Waltzing with you was an unexpected pleasure.’ The grey in his eyes deepened. ‘I’ve discovered many pleasures with you.’
‘Very charmingly put.’
‘I try my best to be charming. I learnt from his example that it is easier to get your way when you are.’
‘I shall remember that.’ Hattie concentrated on the liquid. He hadn’t liked his father and his mother had gone from the household by the time he was four. He would have used the word—dead. She wasn’t sure why that was important, but she knew it was. She had to wonder if Mrs Reynaud knew anything or indeed
if she would be willing to confide. All Hattie knew was she had to try. She wanted to unlock his secrets, but she also knew that if she pressed too hard, he’d turn away from her.
‘Did it take you long to learn how to make jam?’
‘Preserving is easy to do once you know how,’ she said, allowing him to change the subject. ‘There is something satisfying about seeing rows of jars and bottles. I can’t cook, but I can preserve.’
‘Why do you do it?’
‘And not leave it to the servants?’ Hattie leant back against the small wooden table. He appeared genuinely interested. ‘I like to do it. I find it leaves me free to think as I work.’
‘Are you finished?’
‘For now.’ She tilted her head to one side, assessing him.
His body was perfectly still, but coiled like a spring. She wanted to go to him and see if what they had experienced yesterday afternoon remained or if it had burnt out after one joining.
Her stomach knotted. She had imagined that he’d stride over to her and kiss her as they were alone, but he just stood there. She balled her fist, wishing she knew more about how one actually conducted an affair. And there was no one she could ask! Stephanie would collapse in a fit of vapours even if she so much as hinted at having an affair.
To break the tension, she attempted a light laugh. ‘You should have a taste. Dip your finger into the pot. It is one of the perks for knowing the cook.’
He stood watching her without moving. ‘You do it. First.’
‘Do what?’
‘Stick your finger in the jam. Show me how it is done.’
‘Don’t tell you never have...’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Didn’t you used to go and sneak biscuits from the cook?’
His face became shuttered. ‘No, I never did. My father had simple tastes.’
Hattie ground her teeth. She hated to think of the lonely little boy he must have been. She stuck her finger in the cooling jam and held it out. ‘There, see. It is simple.’
He captured her wrist and brought the finger to his mouth, suckling. The faint tugging at her finger made her insides skitter. He withdrew and wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘I see what you mean. Thoroughly enjoyable.’
‘That, Kit, was beneath you.’ Her cheeks flamed. She was such a novice at things like flirting with one’s lover. Even the thought felt wicked.
‘But hugely enjoyable. Strawberry-flavoured Harriet. Definitely a good taste.’
She attempted to remain calm. They were alone and no one had seen. ‘I’m pleased I have broadened your education, but you acted like you knew what you were doing.’
‘Once you have the mechanics down, the rest falls into place.’ He leant forwards so their foreheads touched. ‘Your skin smells of strawberries.’
‘That is hardly a revelation.’ She tried for a sophisticated laugh. This meeting in the still room was not how their next encounter was supposed to go. ‘Your charm is slipping, Kit.’
He softly kissed her temple. ‘I have a confession. I was going to wait for you to contact me, but decided not to. Will you come out on a ride with me now?’
‘You decided not to wait.’ She leant back against his arms, staring up into his face. She wanted to believe that she was the only one he’d ever behaved like that with. That she was the only one he pursued.
She had been prepared not to hear from him again, except for a polite note and some little token of false esteem. The fact was he was here with such an eager expression, asking her to go horseback riding with him, looking like he desired her.
