Page 58 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Warren seemed to understand. “I’ll say no more. The apothecary, did you say?”

“Yes, have you changed your mind?”

“No.” He grinned. “Breakfast awaits.”

* * *

The apothecary was empty when Bentley arrived, and it took less than ten minutes to select the pigments he wanted to purchase. He intended to go directly home and grind them into powder, for he needed something to expel his extra, anxious energy, and working with the muller and stone to grind his pigments to dust was as good a way as any. He hadn’t been lying to Warren earlier—his mother’s letter and the information about her husband’s failing health had been on his mind quite a lot recently. But moreover, the potential of regret burned his chest, worrying his mind. He’d heavily regretted his anger the night his father had died and how his choice to argue with his mother had made him leave the room just moments before Father took his last breath.

After weeks of sitting vigil at his side, Bentley had missed being there, had missed holding Father’s hand when he’d needed Bentley most. Bentley’s regret was still acute, and the years had only slightly dulled it. Above all else though, he did not wish the added burden of additional regret to plague him for failing to allow Mr. Humphries the chance to speak for himself.

Did Bentley owe the man that much? He genuinely did not know.

“All set,” the man said behind the counter, sliding a wrapped parcel over the smooth wooden countertop and pushing spectacles up his nose.

Bentley counted out what he owed the man, shaking coins in his hand to find the correct sum. The door opened behind him, bringing with it a rush of cold wind, and his body tensed on impulse. He’d spent so many years closeted away, worried that people would see him, note his distinct nose, his cleft chin, and the way his eyes were set back just so, and know at once the secret his mother had kept from him his entire life. He couldn’t risk being seen, couldn’t risk forming relationships with others. What if they knew his father, his mother, or her newer husband?

Then the game would be up. Father deserved this, for Bentley to make every last effort to conceal the truth and protect their name. He should have just gone to Melbury.

“Certainly,” a female voice said as the shop door closed. “We are here anyway, so I do not see why Lucy should be so bothered by a quick visit to the apothecary. It is not as though she needs my help choosing between pink and dark pink for her gown. I should think it won’t be the last headache I endure while she remains under my roof.”

Bentley’s pulse thrummed. He would recognize Hattie’s voice anywhere, and his heart jumped at the sound, his chest warming and his fingers shaking around the coins he delivered into the apothecary’s waiting hand. He thanked the man and lifted his package, unsure what he should do.

Well, he would allow Hattie to take the lead. If he was lucky, she only had her maid with her again. A smile formed on his lips. He was eager to catch a glimpse of Hattie. Due to the rain, he’d been starved of the woman and greatly anticipated feasting on the sight of her.

Bentley dipped his head to the apothecary then turned. Hattie stood beside her maid near the door, her gaze fixed on him. She must have recognized him when she entered the shop and was waiting, as he was, to see how they should react to one another. They’d never determined how to act in public, having written off the possibility of meeting. But here they were, more than a month after their first meeting in the millinery, and accidentally seeing one another in a shop again.

“Good day,” he said, breaking the silence. That was typical behavior, was it not? Certainly strangers bid each other good day quite often. It was only polite, and anyone looking on would not suspect that they were friends from a simple greeting. Regardless, Hattie had been staring, and he would have given his entire package of pigments to know what she’d been thinking.

“I shall retrieve the tonic,” her maid said quietly before bobbing a curtsy and skirting Bentley to approach the counter.

Hattie seemed to regain her bearings and dipped in a curtsy. “Good day. Quite a cold day, in fact.”

Bentley could hear voices quietly behind him as Hattie’s maid spoke to the apothecary. “Indeed,” he said. “Nearly frigid, in fact.”

“Much too cold to…um…” She looked to be casting about for the proper words before her gaze narrowed in on him again. “To spend too much time with horses. In a barn.”

“Ah, well, I’m certain if one was to wear a thick enough coat, one could visit their horse in the barn for a short period of time.”

Hattie looked to be fighting a smile. “Provided it does not rain.”

“Well, naturally. The rain would be a deterrent from visiting a barn. But if it was sunny…”

“Then there would be no reason not to visit your horse. In the barn. Regardless of the cold. Even on a day like today.”

Bentley had to work to keep his grin from spreading. The amusement dancing in Hattie’s eyes was reflected in the warmth filling his chest.

He glanced over his shoulder and found the apothecary’s focus wholly on Agnes. Lowering his voice, he shot Hattie a significant look. “Do you happen to be aware that your sister-in-law has invited my cousin and me to dine at your home next week?”

Hattie’s eyebrows pulled together. “Drat the woman. I told her to leave you out of it.”

That stung, though Bentley believed she had meant it as a kindness.

Stepping closer, she spoke quietly. “Mr. Warren may accept the invitation alone. Do not feel as though you are slighting me by refusing—I understand that you cannot come.”

But the idea of Warren attending dinner at her house without Bentley, spending time with her, inciting her wicked laughter and sparkling, amused eyes, was enough to set him on edge. He did not feel the least inclined to allow Warren that luxury and surprised himself by shaking his head.

The shop door opened, and an older woman stepped inside, a wide black bonnet covering most of her gray hair. Her wrinkled face shifted into surprise as she looked from Hattie to Bentley, and he could see the calculation shining in the older woman’s eyes. Hattie had stepped too close, and they were in much too intimate a position to hide the fact that they knew one another. He needed to act quickly.

---