Page 1 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 1

Five Months Later

The brim on Hattie’s bonnet was not nearly wide enough; not if she could train her face toward the ground and still be recognizable from a distance. Hattie shifted her body toward the storefront on Graton’s High Street, pulling her cream spencer tighter at the neck to ward off the chilly wind, and pretended not to hear her sister-in-law call her name from the passing carriage. If only Hattie had known to slip around the edge of the building two minutes earlier, she could have avoided this very situation.

But that was the trouble. One never did know when trouble was afoot and undesirable acquaintances were about to pounce. Hattie was sure to face her brother’s wrath when she returned home later that day, for he certainly would not believe that she had not heard his wife calling her name at so close a distance—despite the sound of carriage wheels and hoofbeats on the cobblestone road. Best to stretch her shopping excursion as long as she was able.

“Hattie! Can you not hear me, my dear?” Lucy called again from the open window, her voice fading as the carriage slowly continued down the street. Jeffrey was undoubtedly inside with her. Why was he not quieting his wife?

Drat! Would the blasted woman not take a hint? Hattie needed to disappear before Lucy got the notion to stop her carriage and beg to transport Hattie home or commit some other horrible act of generosity. Not real generosity, of course. Lucy Green had a motive for everything.

Peeking to her left, Hattie noticed another carriage coming their direction. If she planned it just right…

Wheels of a deep green landau rolled down the dusty lane behind her, and she slipped around her maid and into the millinery shop while the carriage sheltered her from her sister-in-law’s view. The bell jingled above the door as she closed it sharply, and she spun to lean against it, her chest heaving.

Hattie tugged on her watch chain and checked the time. It was just her luck that her brother and his wife had arrived an hour earlier than their letter had warned. Hattie should have known better and made an effort to escape her house to a far more secluded place than High Street, but she’d thought she had plenty of time before there was a chance of running into them. Closing the watch with a snap, she tucked it down her bodice and looked around Mrs. Dawson’s millinery shop.

A man stood to her left looking at a table of gloves, and Mrs. Dawson was busy behind the long counter arranging an assortment of lace.

Hattie shot the older woman a smile and glanced about the rest of the shop. She may as well make use of being in the store. At least until it was safe to return outside.

Wood polish and floral perfume warred for superiority in the cramped room, and Hattie fought the inclination to slip her handkerchief from her sleeve and use it to cover her nose. Ah, speaking of handkerchiefs, the new shipment Mrs. Dawson had ordered was likely in by now, and Papa had properly soiled the last two Hattie had embroidered for him. She really should purchase a few more and prepare them before it was time for him to leave for his sister’s estate next week. Or maybe she was better off buying two for Papa and two for his dogs. Then he wouldn’t keep ruining his nicely personalized squares of linen wiping mud from the hounds’ blasted noses.

Or perhaps her money was best spent obtaining a wider-brimmed bonnet for future excursions. She’d briefly noticed a fine chip straw bonnet when she was peering through the window. She really should have another look at it. If she took it home and did it over with that pink ribbon Papa brought her from—

“Oof!” Hattie tripped over the leg of a tall, brass mirror and pitched forward, her arms flailing for purchase as she searched for something to hold on to.

A sturdy arm slid around her waist and pulled her up before she could crash directly into the mirror and send it shattering on the floor. She clutched her savior’s arm on impulse.

“Careful,” a deep voice said just behind her ear, standing the hair on the back of her neck on end. The man’s grip around her waist seared into her with a warmth that surprised her, and she extricated herself from her rescuer’s arms quickly, eager to be rid of the unwelcome feeling.

Stepping back, she shook out her limbs, chuckling. “That was a near miss.”

The man was not as amused. Mouth pressed into a firm line, he swept his gray eyes over her, his thick, dark eyebrows pulling together in consternation. His scowl reminded Hattie of the tutor her father had engaged on her behalf almost a decade ago, and she wondered briefly if this stranger had the same innately censorious disposition.

Though her middle-aged tutor certainly wasn’t this handsome.

If it wasn’t for the two days of stubble that shadowed the sharp curve of this man’s jaw and bled clear up to his unkempt side-whiskers, Hattie would fully believe this stranger was a tutor or school teacher himself. He had the bearing and the expression of a man used to telling others what to do.

She dipped in a grateful curtsy. “I thank you, sir. I would not have liked to damage Mrs. Dawson’s mirror.”

“Perhaps watching where you step would have saved it in a much simpler manner,” he said smoothly, without hesitation.

Well, that was uncalled for. She must be correct. Unshaven face aside, he was most certainly some form of teacher. Or perhaps he dabbled in pugilism, given his knack for verbal sparring.

Hattie dropped her chin, affecting her most innocent expression. “I certainly would have if my mind had not been preoccupied with the pretty bonnets on display in the window. How can anyone expect me to focus on anything at all when surrounded by all this beauty? What with such lovely ribbons over here, and dainty fans over there vying for my attention, it is a preposterous notion! I’m certain you couldn’t have meant it.” She considered stomping her foot for added measure but decided to hold on to that gem for later. It would be more appropriate if he pressed the matter further.

The stranger looked down his straight nose at her with mild curiosity. Perhaps he was wondering if she was simple-minded. She felt inclined not to change that particular opinion of his. There was something very satisfying about intentionally giving the wrong impression—it failed to allow anyone the chance to truly know what she thought.

“In that case,” he said, watching her closely, “may I help you retrieve a particular bonnet from the window?”

His offer caught her off guard, but she quickly tried to cover her shock. Disapproving school teachers were not usually so chivalrous, at least not in her experience. They were far too concerned with books and maps and things to hand down items from tall shelves. Or perhaps that was simply Hattie’s tutor and his suppressed frustration over being in the position to school a girl. He’d always preferred her brother, Jeffrey, and lamented the fact that Hattie was the one interested in learning.

This man looked intent on further helping her, and Hattie did not intend to take her game of playing insipid and helpless so far as that. “I think I can manage but thank you again.” She trilled a grating giggle for good measure. “You must desire to rid yourself of this nuisance, so I give you leave to do so.”

“I would not have phrased it so plainly,” he argued, but then he did not further disagree. How unkind of him to consider her a nuisance. It was irritating that his voice was smooth and deep, like a cup of warm chocolate on a crisp morning, and she found it unfair that such a disagreeable man would possess such a soothing tone.

Well, that was quite enough of that. Hattie looked once more into his handsome gray eyes and decided that she could not tell if she liked the man’s quick wit and blatant honesty or despised him for it.

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