Page 63 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Lucy’s face screwed up in confusion. “Did you not say you wished to paint?”

Hattie paused. “Yes, and my supplies are at the old barn.”

Lucy looked from Hattie to her maid. “I do not think you should go alone. Would you like for me—”

“I will not be alone,” Hattie said quickly. She would not allow her sister-in-law to ruin this for her. She wanted to see Bentley, to speak to him. Lucy’s presence would make that impossible. “Agnes will come with me. Do not forget that our customs here differ from what you are used to in London. No one would consider it odd to find me alone on a ride on my own father’s land anyway.”

Lucy’s mouth opened before she closed it, looking to the ceiling in thought. “I suppose you are correct.”

Hattie bit her tongue before she said something she regretted, instead shooting Lucy a bland smile.

“Allow me to get out of your way.”

Hattie didn’t argue, only waited for her to leave. Once Lucy was gone, she turned quickly. “Hurry, Agnes. Bentley is likely waiting for us right now. We must make haste.”

“Not us, miss. He is waiting for you.”

Hattie paused in her efforts to free herself from her gown as Agnes swept behind her and deftly unfastened it. Agnes was not wrong in her statement, but it was jarring, nonetheless.

“Are you all right, miss?”

“Haste, Agnes,” Hattie said, unsure of the answer herself, her thoughts like a jumble of yarn in her brain. “Haste!”

* * *

When Hattie and Agnes reached the barn, she jumped from her horse and tossed the reins to her dismounting maid, who caught them with agility. Hattie lifted her skirt from the muddy barn floor and stepped into the dim interior, relief flooding her when she spotted the duke’s horse neatly tucked into a stall. She looked up to the loft.

“Bentley?” she called.

He stepped toward the edge, leaning over and fastening his gaze on her.

She had never before been so happy to see a face. “I am so glad you’re here!” She crossed to the ladder and climbed toward him.

“As am I.”

The rough wood was cold under her gloves, and even the old walls did not protect her from a chill wind. It would soon become too cold to continue meeting here if this weather persisted. She stilled at the top of the ladder, resting her arms against the top rung. “Please tell me you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Define long.” He reached to help her up, and she slipped her hand into his.

Oh, drat. Should she tell him that he owed his waiting to his own house guest? “Are you completely frozen now? I wish we could build a fire up here, but I fear that would only end in disaster.”

He chuckled, his hand lingering on hers. “I would thank you to keep from lighting any fires in here.”

Hattie grinned. “So you say, but would you be glad of the warmth?”

“For a minute, perhaps. Then fear for my life would take over.”

Agnes climbed over the top of the ladder and Bentley released Hattie’s hand in order to assist her maid.

A duke assisting a maid. Never had Hattie expected to see such an occurrence. But it did not surprise her—not with Bentley. He seemed to treat his own servants better than a lot of her acquaintances did who were half his rank. It was refreshing and spoke volumes about the type of man he was.

“Did you have a visitor?” Bentley asked, following Hattie toward the sofas. There was an array of blankets thrown over the back of the ratty couches and she offered him one before taking another for herself. They smelled as though they had been in a barn for quite some time, but Hattie preferred the warmth.

“How did you know?”

Bentley shrugged, arranging the blanket over his lap, the frayed, aged quilt at odds with his well-put-together appearance. “Warren wasn’t home when I returned from Graton, so I made the assumption that he’d gone to visit you.”

How was she meant to take that? She wanted to know what Mr. Warren had said to lead Bentley to reach that conclusion, but she bit her tongue. Bentley had mentioned his distaste for gossips, and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it if she attempted to engage him in the activity. Hattie retrieved her sketch and charcoal before sitting across from Bentley, pulling her feet underneath her and tucking a blanket around her legs. Agnes did the same, sitting on the end of Hattie’s sofa and covering herself in a blanket.

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