Page 81 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Hattie said nothing. Papa knew her so well. She would have fought Lucy even harder, most assuredly, had she known. But, still. “You thought I was so desperate as to need help?”

“I love you, Hattie. I only want you to be happy.” He glanced to Bentley before turning and leaving the room, closing the drawing room door behind himself.

She watched him go, unable to make complete sense of all that had transpired. He was doing his best, and Lucy was his best, apparently. She couldn’t fault him for his efforts, even if she wished he’d have gone about it in a much better way.

Bentley looked at her, quietly standing just an arm’s length away. His gray eyes pierced her.

“‘This young man?’” she asked, to break the silence. “And he patted your shoulder like you were a lad. Bentley, how have you and my father grown to be on such intimate terms?”

“Since I discovered that he is a close friend of my natural father, Mr. Humphries.”

Hattie had no words. They had absolutely escaped her, traveled away on the back of the Carters’ elaborate carriage.

Bentley must have sensed this. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a step forward. “I made it to Kent and saw my mother. You will be happy to know that we have mended our differences—indeed, there was a misunderstanding that we’ve since cleared up, but I shall tell you more of that later.”

Her heart warmed. “I am so glad, Bentley.”

His lips formed a soft smile. “There is more. I spoke to my mother’s husband briefly, but it was enough, and I was able to comfort my mother at the time of his death early the next morning. Your father was a dear friend of my stepfather’s, apparently. He was visiting his sister and learned of Patrick Humphries’s illness and remained in Kent so he could be near at hand. He was there the morning Patrick died, and stayed at the house afterward to help my steward arrange the funeral satisfactorily.”

“I knew his friend had taken ill, but Bentley…oh, what are the chances?”

“Yes, well, it almost feels as though fate is to blame, do you not agree?”

She swallowed. “Fate?”

“Yes. Of all the people in all of England who would happen to be in my ancestral home to support my stepfather at the time of his death, could there be no other reason than fate that it just happened to be the father of the woman I love?”

Hattie held her breath, her lips parting as Bentley took another step closer. “You do love me? I thought it was impossible.”

He stopped approaching, puzzlement overtaking his brow. “How so?”

Stripping her long gloves, Hattie pointed to her skin. “Freckles. I’m positively covered, Bentley. It’s absolutely revolting.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “I don’t think they’re revolting. I rather love your freckles.”

Hattie screwed up her nose, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you. My father is the only person who’s ever liked them. And even then, I’m nearly positive he’s blind when it comes to me.”

“He isn’t blind, and we share the sentiment.” Bentley closed the distance between them, brushing his thumb across her cheek and sliding his other hand over her smooth forearm until his bare fingers wrapped around hers. “I think you are the most beautiful creature in the world, and your heart is even lovelier. After the episode in the barn, I was quite desolate, but upon returning home, I was given reason to hope that you might return my feelings.”

“Mr. Warren,” she accused, warmth filling her body from his touch.

Bentley laughed. “Very well, yes. Warren told me of what happened outside of the assemblies.”

“I blame Melbury for my foolishness,” she murmured. “Just ask my father. It is a horrid town.”

Bentley’s smile grew. “I don’t think you actually believe that.”

His fingers caused shivers to dance up her arms, and it was sheer torture in the loveliest way. “No, I don’t. But I needed to test my theory. I needed to know if what I felt was specific to you or was only a result of you being a man.”

“What did you discover?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“That no one else makes me feel the way you do.”

Bentley’s eyes darkened, and he released her, sliding his hands around her waist. “Marry me, Hattie. I’ve no claim to red hair, but I will love you deeply for the rest of eternity.”

“Even when I’m sick with a child? Or cross? I do get rather cross at times.”

“Even when you’re sick or cross.”

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