Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12. Ann Lethbridge

      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.

      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.’

Chapter Eleven

      The horse auction was out near Yarridge and the Hexham race course hummed with activity. While Tatterstalls would have been Kit’s first choice for purchasing a horse for Hattie, he doubted if she would consent to a journey down to London. He refused to think about how much time they could spend together away from the watchful eye of her sister and housekeeper if she had a mount of her own. Even getting her to come here had been a trial. Mrs Hampstead had shared her carriage, but thankfully had decided to stay at the refreshment tent, rather than look around at the horses. A groom trailed at a respectful distance.

      Yarridge and its selection would have to suffice … for now.

      Kit ran a practised eye over the stock available for auction, picking out several which might do for Hattie.

      ‘Be careful where you step,’ he said, catching Hattie’s elbow and helping her around the pile of manure. A pulse of heat went through him.

      ‘I am well aware of what a stockyard is like. Have you spotted which horse I should bid on? Or am I allowed the privilege of deciding that?’

      ‘I am here in an advisory capacity only. Far be it from me to trample on your ideas.’

      After