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She was acutely aware that her hair curled in damp tendrils about her face and her apron was hopelessly stained. Not quite the picture of effortless perfection he required from his women. She gave a wry smile. ‘A pleasant thought but...’
‘You do ride?’ he tilted his head and looked at her with his deep-grey eyes.
‘I am a passable rider. I used to be better and take all the jumps, but someone needed to look after my nieces and so I feel my skills are rusty.’
‘We shall have to make you a better one. All you are lacking is practice.’
‘I suspect you are the sort of person who attempts the largest jumps and thinks about the consequences afterwards.’
His face became carved out of stone. ‘I always think about the consequences. I know the price of failure.’
‘Your father...’
‘My father insisted I learn.’ Kit frowned. ‘He disliked it if I showed fear. The fear of his temper was far worse than my fear of heights. He left me up a tree once overnight until I developed the courage to climb down.’
‘How old were you?
‘Five.’
Righteous indignation filled Hattie. How could anyone have been that cruel and unfeeling? She wished the man was still alive so she could give him a piece of her mind. One simply did not do things like that. ‘It was wrong of your father.’
‘It helped me to learn. He worried that I would be weak, that I had bad blood like my mother.’ He gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘There are some who say that Eton is a hard place. When my uncle took me there, I found it a paradise beyond my wildest imaginings and never wanted to leave. That suited my father.’
Hattie shook her head in astonishment. When she had been sent to school as a young girl, she had been homesick for weeks, even though Stephanie had been in her final year there. She had lived for going home at the holidays. But Kit was right. He had been better off at school.
Hattie put her hand on his arm. He shrugged it off.
‘What your father did was inexcusable, but it can’t rule your life,’ she whispered.
His face instantly fell and then he covered it up again with a bland mask and she knew she had overstepped the mark. ‘It doesn’t. I live my life with style.’
‘You are certainly proving a worthy mentor to Mr Hook.’
‘I had little choice in the matter.’ His mouth twisted with self-loathing.
Hattie reached out and covered his hand with hers. ‘People die when they are meant to. You did not fire that bullet. And I suspect you would have taken it if you could have, but you didn’t. You have no idea what attracted the marksman to your friend. You can’t torture yourself with “what ifs”.’
‘I will attempt to remember that when I wake up in a cold sweat, knowing that I begged him to change places with me.’
She stared at him for a long time, suddenly understanding. He blamed himself. ‘Do you expect me to turn away with loathing? Is that why you failed to say anything earlier? I won’t. I do know something of war. My husband fell in battle.’
‘It wasn’t any of your business.’
‘I’m pleased you lack any ounce of self-pity.’
‘Irony is not one of your strong points, Harriet.’ He gave a sardonic laugh.
‘And you are doing a decent job with Mr Hook,’ Hattie continued relentlessly onward, not allowing herself to become discouraged. He had to see the good that he was doing and that he wasn’t like his father. ‘I’m impressed at how he has immersed himself in the study of newts. Even Portia is won over. He does know more than she does.’
He stared at her for a long moment. ‘Shall we go for this ride or do I find another companion? Surely in the country, you can ride without a groom?’
‘I would be delighted to go with you. Or rather to meet you. It is best if we happen to meet rather than ride out together. I have no wish to raise suspicions.’
‘You can be overly correct at times, Harriet.’
‘You don’t have to contend with Stephanie.’ Hattie
wiped her hands on a towel. Her heat thumped loudly in her ears. She was going to go riding without a groom. She was going to escape from the Dower House and her responsibilities. One ride and that was all. She could stop any time she wanted to.
‘Let me find my riding habit. And my horse is a bit slow, but she gets there in the end.’
He touched her cheek. ‘That’s all I can ask.’
