Page 18 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

“What if I persist in the belief that Lucy has nothing worthwhile to teach me?”

A knock came at the door and Papa looked up, his lips pinched in displeasure. Lowering his voice, he said, “You will alter your attitude toward Jeffrey’s wife, or you will come with me to my sister’s house.”

Travel in the cold, wet, winter to sleep in a damp room? Hattie thought not.

“Enter,” Papa called. He left her no room to argue. She could abide by his strictures or suffer.

Though in truth, both courses of action seemed full of suffering to Hattie.

The door opened, and their butler stepped forward. “Mrs. Fremont has come to see Miss Hattie, sir. I’ve directed her to the parlor.”

“I shall come to her,” Hattie said, rising. She wouldn’t bother replying to Papa yet, not until she had fully thought through the situation. She was of half a mind to join him on his journey if for no other reason than that he did not expect it of her. But that was the rub. He’d chosen an alternative she rather despised.

It was an interesting predicament when the lesser of two evils happened to be Lucy.

“Thank you, Papa. I will think on it.”

His thick, gray eyebrows raised a fraction. “I leave in two days, Hattie. You don’t have much time to think.”

“Then you shall receive an answer soon.”

She leaned over and kissed his wrinkled cheek again before flouncing from the room and hurrying upstairs to change into her navy-blue riding habit. If she was lucky, she would find Amelia Fremont in the parlor alone and could convince her friend to ride out to the old barn with her before Lucy could waylay them. Lucy had been dropping little hints of her desire to attend Melbury’s assemblies the last few days, and Hattie wouldn’t put it past the woman to try and draw Amelia into the scheme.

After changing quickly with Agnes’s help, she quietly snuck downstairs and into the parlor. Hattie was relieved to find Amelia alone, regally sitting on the pale pink settee. Her bright red hair was pulled back into an effortless, elegant knot, vibrant against flawless, pale skin. She was immaculate as ever, and her eyes lit up when they fell on Hattie. “I have something exciting to share.”

“Come, quickly,” Hattie said, crossing the room with haste and reaching for her friend’s hand.

“But Hattie—”

“Shhh. We mustn’t alert anyone else to your presence here.” She motioned to Amelia’s riding habit, the long, emerald skirt pooling on the floor at her feet. “I see you’ve ridden over. Fancy a ride out to the old barn?”

Amelia’s red eyebrows set high on her forehead as she allowed Hattie to pull her up from the settee. “That would be fine.”

“You can tell me your news when we’re safe.”

“Safe from whom?” Amelia asked, startled.

Hattie leaned in and whispered. “Lucy, of course.”

Amelia sighed. “You realize she is only trying to be your friend.”

“No, she is trying to get me married.”

They slipped outside and crossed the drive toward the stables. The cold, November air seeped through Hattie’s riding habit, and she considered returning to the house for a thicker protectant against the weather. The sky was cloudy but lacked wind, and it did not appear as though it would rain. She realized this was probably not how Amelia had wished to spend her afternoon, but they could be fast. A quick ride to the barn to check for Romeo, and then they could return and warm up beside the fire with a bracing cup of tea.

She could even reward Amelia with a plate of ginger biscuits if Cook had any remaining from yesterday.

“That would be such a horrible thing, wouldn’t it?” Amelia asked when they rounded the bend toward the stables. “Oh, marriage—absolutely terrible.”

Hattie shot her friend an unamused glance, ignoring her grin. Amelia had only been married for two months now, but she had glowed with happiness from the moment she agreed to become Charles Fremont’s wife. It would have been sickening if Hattie wasn’t so happy for the pair of them.

“You’ve made your point.”

“I recall a certain event on Midsummer’s Eve where you attempted to discover exactly who your husband was going to be. If that was not an effort toward marriage, Hattie, then what is?”

“That was different.” Hattie widened her eyes to beg Amelia’s silence before stepping into the stables to request her horse and to have Amelia’s brought out with it. Rejoining her friend, she continued to defend her choices. “I will not force marriage into my life, Amelia. My efforts on Midsummer’s Eve were to gather information, nothing more.” She scoffed. “I have a far greater respect for fate than that.”

Lucy stepped from the stables, her fair hair pulled away from her face and hidden beneath a riding hat. The skirts of her violet habit were clutched in her fists and lifted from the damp earth. “Are you planning to ride now, too? What a lovely surprise.”

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