Page 55 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Hattie scanned the contents of the letter before lowering it in her lap. “By the sound of it, Papa does not expect his friend to survive this illness.”

Jeffrey nodded.

“Well, allow me to put you at ease,” Hattie said. “You needn’t remain solely for my sake. I know Lucy would like to return to London before the weather turns, and I am perfectly capable of keeping house here.”

Lucy looked to the windows, pouting. “It would appear that we are already too late for that.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Jeffrey said bravely. “We can certainly travel in the rain. It is snow we wish to avoid. Blasted hate the stuff.”

Lucy didn’t look quite convinced. “Do you recall the day our carriage nearly slipped from the road into that ditch when we were leaving London? The road was more water than mud.”

“Yes, well, that was a horrid, wet winter. I do not think one day of rain will yield the same results.”

“Then perhaps you ought to go tomorrow,” Hattie said.

Jeffrey shot her an unamused look before turning to comfort his wife. “We will not be leaving tomorrow. Please recall the reasons we came, and that I will not intentionally do anything to put us in harm’s way.”

Lucy nodded, her worried, round eyes fixed on Jeffrey.

Oh, gracious heavens. It wasn’t as though Hattie wished to put Lucy in harm’s way either. Must Jeffrey really say it like that?

“I did hope to host that dinner party before we left,” Lucy said, her voice regaining a steady tone. “We would need at least two weeks to prepare and give our friends ample time to plan. You mustn’t forget that we also spoke of seeing them at the Melbury assemblies next week. I would hate to leave before that.”

“Of course, dear,” Jeffrey said in soothing tones.

Hattie raised a finger. “Pardon me, Lucy, but did you mention hosting a dinner party here?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

Of course? No, it was not a given. “Whatever for?”

Lucy looked taken aback. “We must invite the Carters to dine, Hattie. We cannot simply ignore that they invited us to their ball and do nothing to return the gesture. It simply isn’t done.”

“Then by all means. My house is yours.”

Jeffrey shot her a warning look, and Hattie snapped her mouth closed.

Lucy chose to ignore Hattie’s rudeness, smiling instead. “What is the name of that gentleman you danced with? The man with the red hair? I’ve forgotten his name. Maybe we can send him an invitation, too.”

Hattie’s shoulders tightened. She’d intended to ask Bentley why his cousin had yet to call on her, but she’d gotten distracted, and the subject of Mr. Warren had never come up during their lesson. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t certain she wanted him to call on her any longer, anyway.

Rubbing her temples, she tried to relieve the multitude of thoughts battling for precedence. She felt a decided headache coming on, and Lucy’s floral perfume was not helping her situation.

“Hattie?”

She looked up. Jeffrey and Lucy were looking at her with confusion. “His name?” Lucy said.

“Mr. Warren.”

“Do you know where he came from?” Jeffrey asked.

Lucy nodded. “He is staying with his cousin in Graton. The only thing I failed to learn was his cousin’s name. But perhaps if we put our heads together we can discern who it is.”

“Unless,” Jeffrey said, looking at Hattie, “my sister already knows.”

Drat the man! How could he tell? She began to form a favorable lie when her entire body revolted against the very idea. She couldn’t lie to her brother. Not again. It made her sick just thinking about it. Small, white lies were one thing. But intentionally deceiving him? That was another thing entirely.

“I do know,” she said cautiously, “but I’m afraid I cannot tell you.”

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