Page 66 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

After seven years of guarding this secret, how could he lay it bare? He was a fool.

“Indeed. I learned of it too late to inform my father, but I wonder if that was a blessing. He was on his deathbed and needn’t know that his heir didn’t carry the blood of his ancestors.”

“But your father would not have loved you any less, surely.” Hattie’s voice was low, thoughtful. “It was not your fault.”

He shrugged. “I will never know.”

His mother’s face flashed in his mind, fear in her eyes when she’d realized Bentley had overheard her conversation. But what had she expected? It was foolish to speak so openly when he was nearby, regardless of his appearance to be sleeping.

“The man who is your natural father, do you speak to him?” Hattie asked gently.

“I do not speak to him or my mother. It has been years since I have done so.”

Hattie glanced to her maid again before looking back at Bentley. “May I ask why?”

“Of course. I’m certainly telling you more of my history than you sought to know.” He gave her a brief smile. “She lied to me and my father my entire life and is not sorry for it. My mother never apologized, and the man she married has no bearing on me. I care not for his opinions or his failing health.”

Hattie sucked in a breath. “Bentley.”

He could say nothing in response to this. Her admonishing tone was warranted.

The maid rose. “Shall I prepare the horses?”

“Yes. Thank you, Agnes.”

Prepare the horses? Were they not left in the stalls already prepared? Bentley watched Agnes shoot her mistress a look before climbing down the ladder. Hattie rose, coming to stand directly in front of him, and he began to ache from the burden he had just relieved. It was an odd thing for Bentley to bring another into his confidence, for it seemed to sap him of energy and buoy him up simultaneously.

“This is why you’ve hidden away all these years? To keep your mother’s secret and protect your father’s name?”

He nodded. It felt odd to look up at Hattie. Particularly given her compact height. “If you were to see my mother’s husband…well, the similarities are astounding. Same eyes, same cleft, same eyebrows, even… It is a wonder no one has yet to make the connection.”

“But to hide yourself away for all those years… what a toll that must have taken on you.” He could tell that she understood the gravity of his situation. If anyone were to discover and spread word of his questionable legitimacy, there was little they could do to remove him from the dukedom, but his father would be shamed. They would speak ill of the dead—of a man unable to defend himself.

“If one loses their good name, what do they have?” he asked, looking up into Hattie’s compassionate eyes. He had been right to trust her, to know that she would understand and not judge him for it.

“Oh, Bentley,” she said, anguished. She reached for his hand and tugged him up until he stood before her. Slipping her hands around his waist, she pulled him close, fisting the back of his coat in her hands and pressing her cheek against his chest. “What a burden you’ve carried and for so long.”

Bentley stiffened, but Hattie’s warmth soon thawed his fear and he melted into her, his arms surrounding her and pulling her tight against him. He hadn’t felt an embrace in years, not since he had lived at home. Even then, his mother had never been the type to show affection. It was simply not the way things were done.

Hattie breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly, pressing further into him as though she meant to squeeze the negativity away. He closed his eyes, his pulse thrumming in his neck, and he imagined her heartbeat matching his.

Leaning back, Hattie bent her neck to look into his eyes and he wanted to still time, to memorize the moment so he could recall it always. He cared about this woman, and he was going to make it so he was in a position to tell her so.

She shook her head fractionally, her brow furrowed. “But what has changed? Why do you now wish to go into Society?”

Could he tell her now? He drew in a quick breath, his voice low and hoarse. “Do you really not know?”

Hattie seemed to freeze, her body growing still. Time seemed to pass slowly as he painfully awaited her response. He was woefully out of practice wooing young ladies, and he didn’t know if there was another way about it. But he was allowing his heart to lead him, and it was presently guiding him to Hattie.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she whispered.

Bentley lifted a hand to her face. Brushing aside a lock of hair, he revealed her beautiful, freckled cheek. He wanted to lay a kiss upon each speckle.

Swallowing, he held her gaze, his thumb brushing her blushing skin. “Surely I have made myself plain.”

Her eyes widened a moment before they darted to his lips, and she bit hers. Bentley suppressed a groan. He wanted to kiss her, but she had yet to respond, to say that she returned his feelings.

“If only you were a fox,” she said softly, an awkward chuckle leaving her chest.

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