Page 19 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Hattie gritted her teeth to avoid cursing. How had she not seen Lucy inside when she went to request the horses? Had the woman been hiding? No, that was madness. The only reason she would have to do such a thing was if she was trying to eavesdrop.

Well, perhaps not complete madness, then.

“Good day, Mrs. Green,” Amelia said, dropping into a brief curtsy. “It has been so long since I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”

“Good day, Mrs….” Lucy paused, glancing between the two of them. It was through no fault of hers that she did not recall Amelia’s surname. It had changed more than once in recent years.

“Fremont,” Amelia supplied. “I recently married Charles Fremont, one of our neighbors here.”

“Ah, yes. I did hear of that.” Lucy turned expectant, rounded eyes on Hattie.

Oh, drat. Hattie was going to have to invite her along. There was no way around it. “We were going to ride out to the old barn to look for my missing cat, if you would like to join us?” She would like to add the caveat that neither woman was allowed to speak of Hattie’s marital prospects but bit her tongue.

“That sounds intriguing.”

Of course Lucy would make her acceptance sound pitiful, as though the only reason she was coming along was because she had nothing better to do. If she was truly that indifferent, she ought to search out her husband and ask him to devise a scheme to entertain her. Or better yet, return her to London.

The grooms brought their horses out and assisted the women in mounting, and Hattie informed them that Lucy would no longer need an escort, for she was joining Hattie and Amelia.

Lucy looked over quickly. “You think it safe to ride out without a groom?”

“I’m not sure what danger can befall the three of us when we remain together and within the bounds of my property.” To say nothing of the fact that two of the women were married.

Lucy appeared unconvinced but did not press the issue.

They rode out past the lake and the duke’s woods, over the rolling hills speckled with grazing cattle, and toward the old barn on the edge of the Green’s property.

“If our hunt is unsuccessful, we can call on Giulia and inquire of their household,” Amelia suggested, sliding down from her tall, dark horse when they reached the barn. She unlatched the door and let it swing wide, disturbing the dust and raising a cloud of dirt.

Lucy delicately coughed from where she sat upon her horse, yards away from the debris.

Hattie ignored her sister-in-law and led her horse inside, startling at the sudden sound of a bird in the rafters.

“It’s been too long since we’ve come here,” Amelia said softly. “I feel as though we’ve let the barn down.”

Her friends had let Hattie down, but she would never admit so. Hattie and Amelia had come here weekly to meet with Mabel and Giulia under the guise of a literary society. As the women got married, pregnant, and—in Mabel’s case—moved to the northern coast of Devon, a good two-hour ride away, meeting weekly grew impossible. Amelia, Hattie, and Giulia still met frequently, but their houses were more practical locations as Giulia had grown pregnant and now had a small babe to contend with.

Standing in the middle of the quiet, secluded barn now, Hattie felt the bitterness of what had passed mixed with the sweetness of old memories. It was not realistic, but she wished for the earlier days again. Though, she would never wish for any of her friends to remain as unmarried as she was, so it was moot. Hattie wanted two things at the same time, which was both impossible and unreasonable.

“I will look about the horse stalls if you’d like to check the loft?” Amelia asked.

Nodding, Hattie made her way toward the ladder and climbed up to the raised loft area. She checked the cushions and blankets left behind, the corners and dust-covered floor, but nothing appeared disturbed by a cat. Though Papa was correct, and she could see the evidence of rodents having chewed around the edges of the wooden sofa legs.

She unlatched the loft door and pushed it open to reveal rolling lands and Giulia’s castle off in the distance. Hattie hadn’t painted up here in quite a while, and she had the sudden, overwhelming urge to do just that. She could return tomorrow in the morning light, set up her things, and spend the entire day up here lost in the silence. The prospect sounded lovely.

A shriek pulled her from her thoughts, causing Hattie to startle and her foot to slide on the dusty, wood-planked floor. Falling down on her backside, she hit the floor hard, and her feet shot out in front of her, dangling over the edge of the open loft door. She clutched the frame for support, her heart hammering.

“Hattie!” Lucy screamed.

“I am safe,” Hattie called back, her body flushed with cold from the fright. “No thanks to you,” she muttered under her breath. If Lucy hadn’t screamed in the first place, Hattie wouldn’t have slipped. She drew in a sustaining breath and sat up fully. “What is it? What did you see?”

“You were so close to the edge,” Lucy called, still seated atop her horse, her gloved hand raised to block the sunlight from her eyes. To her credit, she looked absolutely stricken. It was touching to know Lucy would be so concerned if Hattie had been close to falling from the loft. She hadn’t been in even the remotest danger, but that was beside the point.

“Any sign of Romeo?” Hattie asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Nothing down here.”

Hattie’s shoulders deflated. Where was that blasted cat? “I’ll be down soon.” Rising, she closed the loft door and descended the ladder, slightly shaken from her near fall.

---