Page 24 of To Wager with Love

He stared at her, and she thought he’d speak, but then his jaw tightened and he gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Good day, Miss Hunt.”

Matilda watched as he turned his horse and rode away, ensuring he was out of sight before hurrying to the shelter of the house.

Chapter 7

Dear Aashini,

What is it about that dreadful man…

You never guess who I met today…

I’m such a fool.

I’ve been having a splendid time here at Holbrooke House, but I’m afraid poor Harriet is in rather a fix….

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Matilda Hunt to Lady Aashini Cavendish

31st August 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.

Matilda stared into the flames that crackled merrily in her bedroom hearth. She was dry and warm, with a pot of tea on the table beside her and a plate of crumpets in her lap. The rain had started up again, but the sound of it pattering against the window glass was rather comforting when one was snug indoors. At least the storm had departed with as much speed as it had arrived. With an uncharacteristic surge of vindictiveness, she hoped that Montagu’s ankle was very painful indeed, and then sighed as her eyes settled on the beautiful orchid he’d given her. She knew she didn’t mean it. She ought to. If she had an ounce of sense, she’d wish it with all her might, but she didn’t.

That she’d brought the blasted orchid with her rather than risk it dying in her absence said rather too much about her state of mind. Trust bloody Montagu to give her something so perfectly beautiful and horrifically expense that she’d feel like a monster if it came to any harm at her hands. She’d spent a fortune on books about its care, and hours reading about how to look after the blasted thing, for heaven’s sake. It was pitiful. Why couldn’t the man just send her roses and have done with it?

A knock at the door sent her thoughts scattering, and she put the plate of crumpets aside.

“Come in.”

Matilda leapt to her feet as Harriet put her head around the door.

“May I come in?” she asked, her voice not entirely steady.

“Oh, love, yes. Yes, of course, come and sit down, Oh, Harriet….” she exclaimed as Harriet closed the door and promptly burst into tears.

Matilda rushed forward, hugging the girl tightly.

“There, there,” she soothed. “Come and tell me all about it. I promise you’ll feel much better when you’ve got it off your chest. I doubt it’s half as awful as you think it is.”

She guided a sobbing Harriet to the chair she’d just vacated and bustled about, allowing Harriet a moment to compose herself whilst Matilda stirred the fire and poured out another cup of tea. Once the girl had regained some semblance of control, Matilda shuffled the armchair on the other side of the fireplace closer to her friend and sat down.

“Now, then, darling. I think perhaps you’d better start at the beginning, don’t you?”

Harriet looked at her for a long moment, her dark eyes owlish and vulnerable behind the dainty spectacles she wore, and then she nodded.

***

31st August 1814. Tunbridge Wells, Sussex.

“Heavens, but your aunt is dreadful,” Bonnie said, as the carriage rumbled away from the neat little cottage where Ruth’s aunt lived.

“Bonnie!” Minerva exclaimed, appalled, but Ruth only laughed at Bonnie’s blunt assessment, a rather deep-throated chuckle that made Minerva smile despite her shock.

“Well, it’s quite true, I’m afraid,” Ruth replied, her lips still quirking as she turned to Bonnie. “All the Stone women are formidable, to put it mildly, but Aunt Ethel is one of the worst.”

“I nearly upset my teacup when she asked if you were trying hard enough to catch a husband,” Minerva admitted.

She’d been rather terrified by the old harridan, truth be told, and had been full of admiration for Ruth’s quiet dignity. The young woman had not lost her temper once, despite some quite stunning provocations as to her lack of beauty and inability to catch a man, despite her outrageous dowry. Though, Ruth had also made it perfectly clear that she’d not be bullied.