Page 5 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 3

Hattie tucked her ankles underneath her and shifted on the sofa as her cat climbed into her lap and settled in. She was halfway through reading Othello, a feat of which she was quite proud. She had made a personal goal to work her way through the Shakespeare plays she hadn’t read with her tutor, and this one was proving to be more heart-wrenching than she’d anticipated.

Lucy swept into the drawing room, bringing with her a cloud of rose scent that would send the poor hounds out of the room if they’d been nearby. It nearly sent Hattie out of the room, but she had better manners than the dogs. If only just, sometimes. “Oh Hattie, dear, put down that wretched book and come for a walk with me in the gardens.”

“We went for a walk this morning,” Hattie reminded her, absently rubbing a hand over her cat. The feline hopped down and darted from the room. Well, Hattie didn’t blame him. She wanted to do the very same thing. She lifted her book. “And I should like to continue reading.”

Lucy’s golden eyebrows pulled together. “But what would a gentleman think if he were to see you now?”

Hattie blinked. “That I enjoy reading?”

Shaking her head, Lucy delicately lowered herself onto the sofa beside Hattie, her eyes wide. “That you are a bluestocking,” she whispered nervously.

“But…that would be true.”

Lucy leaned back. “You do not wish for them to know that before marrying you, dear, or they might change their mind.”

Hattie refrained from looking over her shoulder to emphasize the empty room. There were no gentlemen nearby to catch her reading, and if there were, she certainly would not care. She had never understood why learning was so very terrible for women; besides, Papa hadn’t ever attempted to restrict her growth.

“When I find myself courting a gentleman, I will concern myself with how I appear to that man, you need not fear.”

“Ah, but how will you obtain the honor of that gentleman’s courtship without first making yourself appear to advantage in every way?” Lucy sat back, smug. Her blue gown brightened her eyes, and her blonde coiffure was styled flawlessly, not a hair out of place. It gave Hattie the desire to ruffle her sister-in-law in some way.

Swallowing that impulse, Hattie bit her tongue. She knew she could never get Lucy to fully understand her feelings. But she had confidence her future husband was out there somewhere, that she would meet him when the time was right. Fate was not to be forced. It would happen on its own time.

“There are more important things to worry about than a husband, Lucy. I have Papa to consider, and I do not believe love can be contrived. It will come about at the right time.”

“Of course love cannot be forced,” she said. “But lying about in your drawing room in the middle of the day will not find you a husband, either. You are much better off listening to me, Hattie. I have been in your shoes, and I must say I was successful, was I not? I managed to find a husband any woman would be proud to have on her arm.”

Any woman except Hattie, of course, since the man in question was her older brother.

Lucy might be married to Jeffrey, but if the woman thought she had a right to step in as some sort of mother figure in Hattie’s life, she was sorely mistaken. Time to put an end to that.

Shutting the book with a snap, Hattie stood abruptly. “If any handsome, eligible gentlemen come calling, do let me know. I shall be painting.”

She crossed the floor before Lucy could beg an invitation to join her. Lucy had proven herself to have a major dislike of painting during their last visit by refusing to participate and instead choosing to sit behind and watch, which had been complete torture for Hattie. She would not allow a repeat of that situation.

“But Hattie, you must prepare yourself. I can help you.”

Cold, icy dread dragged its unwelcome claw down her spine. She paused at the door and pivoted to face her sister-in-law. The woman’s voice was too pointed to not mean something specific. “To what do you refer?”

Lucy blinked, her round, blue eyes fixed steadily on Hattie. “I only mean to help you, of course.”

She could not possibly mean what Hattie believed she implied. “You have come with the express purpose to help me find a husband?”

“Surely you did not think we would leave London in November for anything less important.” Her petite nose wrinkled. “If the snow comes early, we will be forced to remain here for months.”

Good heavens, that would be dreadful.

“Then allow me to put you at ease,” Hattie said. “You mustn’t stay longer than the fortnight you intended in the first place.”

“I believe it is best if you allow those of us with experience to guide you, Hattie.”

Hattie wanted to scream. This condescension from a woman nearly Hattie’s own age was infuriating. She settled for leaving the room in a dignified huff and going in search of her father. Naturally, he was nowhere to be found.

“Out, miss,” her butler told her. “He went for a ride with Master Jeffrey.”

“Of course he has,” she muttered.

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