Page 17 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 7

Hattie knocked on the door to her papa’s study before running her fingers lightly over the scratch on her forearm. It had mostly healed over the previous two days, and now only a faintly raised red line remained. She found herself drawn to it, tracing it as her traitorous mind repeatedly returned to that day in the duke’s house. She had a naturally curious bent, and the foray into his guarded, secretive house hadn’t staunched her curiosity—it had only made her want to learn more about the man.

“Enter,” Papa called.

She let herself in, turning the ridged, wooden handle and leaning forward in the doorway. “I only wanted to ask if you’ve seen Romeo, my cat?”

Papa looked up from where he sat on a chair near the fire, a line creasing between his thick, gray eyebrows. A gun sat on the low table before him, spread out in pieces over a large cloth beside a small bottle of oil and a rag. “Still can’t find the thing?”

“No, I can’t. And it’s been over a week now.” She shifted on her feet. She had half a mind to remind Papa that his study was not the best place to clean his gun—she wouldn’t convince him to allow a servant to do it, for he enjoyed it, somehow—but he would not be bothered to move. It was his house, after all. And she wasn’t there to reprimand. She was there on important matters. “I’m beginning to worry.”

Papa lifted a finger and ran it over his chin, setting down a piece of the dismantled gun. “Have you asked in the stables?”

“Yes, but they haven’t seen him.”

“The old barn?”

She hadn’t considered that. Shaking her head, she folded her arms over her chest. “Do you think Romeo would have gone so far? He’s lived in this house since he was a tiny kitten. I’m not sure he would know how to reach the barn or possess the ability to make it so far as that.”

“Maybe not intentionally, but if he got lost, he very well could have remained there. I’m certain the building has enough rodents to keep him alive and happy.”

Hattie wrinkled her nose. “I will ride out there and look around.”

“And take—”

“I know,” she said, crossing the room to place a kiss on his wrinkly cheek. “Take Agnes with me.”

“Or a groom would do in a pinch, but I don’t like you traveling to the edges of our property alone.”

“Of course not, I would never be so horribly ill-mannered as that.” She grinned, and her father chuckled despite the falsity of her words. They both knew he was far too indulgent for her good, but at her age, she hardly needed a nursemaid. She was smart enough to know which things she could push her boundaries on, and which she shouldn’t. Her brother had gone away to school so long ago that Hattie felt as though she and her father had lived alone together for most of her life. It wasn’t the case, but she was hard-pressed to remember clearly living there with other people.

Hattie reached the door when Papa’s voice stopped her. “I need to speak to you tonight about your brother and his wife.”

Her hand rested again on the ridged handle, and she tightened her grip, the wooden grooves biting into her palm. She fixed a pleasant smile on her lips and glanced over her shoulder. “Can we not speak on the matter now?” She very much hated putting off uncomfortable things. Better to get them done and over with.

Papa looked thoughtful, his wrinkled skin forming deep grooves on his forehead. “I suppose, if your cat hunt can spare a moment.”

“He’s been missing for a week and a half. I’m certain forcing him to wait another half-hour won’t be too horrific.” Or, she rather hoped.

Papa gestured to the plush, maroon wingback chair beside his. Hattie closed the door behind her and took the seat, curling up and tucking her feet beneath her.

“Jeffrey tells me that you’ve been avoiding Lucy.”

She wanted to retort that she didn’t see the trouble with that at all but bit her tongue. Papa did not appear to be in a humorous mood today. “I do not find her pleasant company, Papa. Can you blame me for doing my best to spend minimal time with my sister-in-law? I am certain, were I to be around her more often, that I would say or do something which would make you very upset with me.”

Papa smiled softly. “Yes, but I have faith in your ability to curb your tongue when it is absolutely necessary. Can you not make more of an effort to welcome her? Until you marry and leave me, you are the woman of this house, and that is your duty.”

“I believe Lucy feels she has more right to claim that distinction.”

Papa sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Hattie, I am only asking you to make a greater effort. Unless you would prefer to come with me to visit your Aunt Sadler, you must do better to act a proper hostess here while I am gone.”

“A proper hostess,” she repeated.

Papa nodded. “And it would not hurt to try and learn a thing or two from Lucy while she is here. She has experience that you could benefit from.”

Lucy’s experience was limited to embroidery and hosting dinner parties. Both of which Hattie had well under control. The only thing Lucy had done in her life that Hattie had not was get married, and that was not something Hattie was interested in actively pursuing at this time. She was wholly aware that her husband was out there somewhere, and she had faith she would find him—or the opposite, perhaps, if he found her first—when the time was right. Waiting had grown tiresome, it was true, but she would not press fate.

Her husband would arrive in her life in due time, without her forcing the issue.

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