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‘I wanted you to know and I will go now, leave you to rest.’ Hattie gripped her reticule. She wished she could offer Mrs Reynaud more comfort. She wanted to tell her that Kit was better than she thought and that he actually cared and would appear once his temper had cooled. ‘It is not good to live a life of illusions. That lesson is now etched on my heart.’
‘Mrs Wilkinson may know a lot of things, but she doesn’t know everything,’ a low voice said behind her. ‘She remains far too quick in judging others.’
Hattie jumped. Half-afraid that somehow her fevered mind had conjured the voice, she could do nothing more than breathe. ‘Kit.’
He stood in the doorway, wearing the same clothes that he’d worn last night. His eyes were sunken and his chin unshaved. Bits of bracken and twigs clung to his breeches. She had never seen him look that dishevelled or that dangerous before.
Hattie ruthlessly suppressed the leap in her pulse. After what she’d learnt about him, she refused to be attracted to him. She was not going to suffer any more lusting after someone who could never be the person she deserved. From now on, she took charge of her life. ‘You should be on your way to London, Sir Christopher. You said you were going.’
‘I am no apparition, Mrs Wilkinson. I am here and not on the road to London.’
‘How? Why?’
Mrs Reynaud gave a little squeak and the colour drained from her face.
‘Your maid let me in, Mother. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Kit held out his hands. ‘I am here as you requested.’
Tears flowed down Susan’s face. ‘You called me mother.’
‘You did give birth to me.’ Kit moved into the room, filling it. ‘Until Mrs Wilkinson gave me the jumping-jack, I had no idea you were dying. You should have informed me. You knew where I was.’
‘Would you have read the letter?’
Kit shrugged. ‘As you didn’t write it, it is a moot question. But I like to think I would have without prompting. But why did you involve Mrs Wilkinson in your scheme? That was unforgivable.’
Hattie pressed her fingers together, trying to take it in. Kit remained in Northumberland, rather than departing immediately for London. And he was calling Mrs Reynaud ‘Mother’ as if he had been saying such a thing every day of his life. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin. ‘I volunteered.’
Mrs Reynaud struggled to sit and a series of violent coughs racked her.
‘Are you dying?’ Kit asked when the coughs subsided. ‘Or has Mrs Wilkinson been exaggerating in an attempt to appeal to my better nature?’
‘Kit!’ Hattie cried. ‘One does not ask questions like that! Particularly not to one’s mother.’
He raised an eyebrow. His sardonic glance raked her. ‘You are going to tell me what to say as well as what to do now?’
The heat rose on Hattie’s cheeks. ‘I merely meant that you should not be so direct.’
‘I appreciate direct,’ Mrs Reynaud cackled. ‘I’m not dead yet. I hope you appreciate that Mrs Wilkinson is a good person with a sterling reputation.’
‘My reputation is my concern,’ Hattie said proudly, keeping her shoulders back. She was never going to ask him for anything.
‘Is it really you, Kit?’ The tears welled up in Mrs Reynaud’s eyes. ‘I’ve wanted to speak to you for so very long. I feared today would never come. Doctor Gormley has given me a little while yet, but my wicked past is catching up with me.’
‘I have come, Mother.’ He glanced about the small room. His gaze seemed to take in everything. Hattie was conscious of her old blue gown and the fact that the lace needed replacing. ‘You should have let me know earlier that you were in trouble.’
‘You see now why I did what I did,’ Hattie said in an undertone. ‘Your mother wanted to see you. It was important.’
He turned to her. His face was an imperious mask. ‘I believe I have an adequate understanding of what is important.’
‘I will take your word for it.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you would allow me some time alone with my mother.’ His face softened. ‘Please,
Hattie.’
Hattie gave a helpless glance at Mrs Reynaud. She hated leaving her alone with Kit, knowing how cold and cutting he could be. Mrs Reynaud nodded. ‘I will be fine now, Hattie. You brought my son to me.’
‘You don’t allow him to bully you, Mrs Reynaud.’
‘Such an opinion of me,’ Kit said in a low tone.
