Page 54 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 19

Jeffrey appeared to be waiting for Hattie when she stepped into the house, standing in the center of the entryway, a letter in his hand. She closed the large front doors, muffling the sound of the heavy rain.

He looked up, his eyebrows raised, and he lifted the note in his hand. “It’s from Papa. But you’ll soil it. Look at you—you’re a mess.”

Hattie slicked her hands over her hair, water dripping from her skin and gown and pooling on the floor. “I know. The rain is horrendous.”

“Our floor is about to look horrendous. I will meet you in the parlor after you’ve had a chance to change into something dry.”

She nodded, the plan agreeable to her. “Can you ring for my maid? Have her meet me upstairs.”

“Of course.” He made to move away and paused. “Where were you?”

“Riding home.” She wiped more water away from her forehead. “I got caught in the storm.”

“Evidently.” He gave her gown a once-over. “Quite a storm by the look of it. Were you alone?”

“No,” she said on impulse. He waited for more and her mouth went dry. “I went to see Amelia.”

The words slipped from her tongue before she’d had a chance to consider them fully.

“Ah, I see.” Jeffrey turned away again, accepting her explanation with ease and disappearing from the entryway.

But Hattie could not so easily step away. She was rooted in place, her feet stuck to the slick marble floor as though they were turned to lead. How had she been able to lie so easily? Her stomach sank, and she rubbed at her eyes. That was the farthest she could go to conceal her meetings with Bentley. No, that was untrue. That was farther than she could go, and she would never do so again. The next time she was questioned, she would come clean and explain that she’d been drawing in the barn. It was reasonable, and it was true.

She would merely omit Bentley’s presence. But at least she would not be lying.

After changing into a thick, warm dress with the help of her maid, Hattie sat on the edge of her bed and pulled on heavy woolen stockings.

“Forgive my dishevelment, Agnes.”

“It’s the rain’s doing, miss. Not yours,” she said, gathering Hattie’s soaked clothing into a basket before setting it beside the door. “I can get that mud out of the hem, don’t you worry.”

Hattie had every confidence in her maid, but she didn’t like to think that she’d caused her extra work. “It is not pressing.” She looked to the window, the rain pattering steadily against it and running down the bubbled-glass panes in thick streams. “I’m certain I shan’t need it for some time. This weather does not appear as though it will relent any time soon.”

Agnes took Hattie’s hair from its pins and began to comb through the snarled, wet tresses. “For your lessons’ sake, I’m right sorry for it.”

“You needn’t be. I think we can still contrive to meet. Though I’m sorry you couldn’t come today. Were you able to get through everything you needed to this morning?”

Agnes’s mouth turned up in a soft smile. “Nearly, miss. I shall have time later today to finish up.”

Hattie nodded, her mind growing distracted as Agnes continued to work through her snarly hair. Rubbing her fingers over her hand, Hattie could not dispel the feeling of Bentley’s skin on hers. It was so unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

When Hattie was once again presentable, she went and found Jeffrey in the parlor, his wife beside him with her knitting needles working away at an oblong, bright yellow object. Rosie and Daisy lay idly before the roaring fire. Hattie lowered herself on the settee opposite them and smiled brightly. “You have something to tell me?”

“How is Amelia?” Jeffrey asked, lowering the book to his lap. “I did not see her at church this last Sunday.”

“She’s a trifle unwell,” Hattie said truthfully. When she’d seen Amelia last at Giulia’s house during their literary society meeting, Amelia had quietly admitted that her stomach had been unsettled for days. It wasn’t cause for alarm. They both knew it was typical.

Lucy frowned. “I do hope it is not contagious.”

“It is unlikely,” Hattie said. “Now what is it you wished to discuss?”

Jeffrey closed his book and set it aside, reaching for a folded letter on the table nestled against the end of the couch. “Papa has written. He must extend his stay at Aunt Sadler’s.”

“Did he give an explanation?”

Jeffrey stood, passing the letter to Hattie before reclaiming his seat beside his wife. “Evidently, an old friend of his in the area has taken ill. He feels a responsibility to remain.”

---