Regency Bride: Hattie Wilkinson Meets Her Match / An Ideal Husband?. Michelle Styles

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СКАЧАТЬ forefinger. The various scrawled words leapt out at him. Faint aromas of Hattie’s jasmine scent permeated the paper and forcibly reminded him of how her lips had yielded. How she had forgot herself and given in to the passion for a moment.

      Hattie had put her case for breaking with him in flowery language which did not detail the situation. She regretted that they were incompatible and that the picnic had proved a great trial. From now, they would have to be distant friends.

      ‘Liar,’ he whispered. ‘All a quarrel means is a chance to become closer. You want this friendship. And I’m going to prove it to you. I do not quit over a simple misunderstanding. Or a baseless fear.’

      Kit held Hattie’s note over a candle and watched it smoulder and burn to ash. Over? It wasn’t over until he ended it. He made a point of it. No woman had left him since Constance and she had begged in the end to return.

      He paused. Hattie wasn’t like any woman he’d been involved with before.

      It didn’t matter. He refused to allow Hattie to end it on such a slim pretext. No woman had ever written to him like that. And Hattie certainly had not kissed him like they would not suit. He had allowed her a chance to raise her drawbridges and retreat. But retreat was not for ever. The next stage needed to begin. Today, before she had a chance to think.

      ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ Johnson, his valet, appeared in the doorway.

      ‘I find I require my evening clothes after all today.’

      ‘You are going out?’

      ‘The musicale in celebration of Waterloo awaits.’

      ‘Sir?’ Johnson struggled to keep his face blank. ‘You loathe such things. Tuneless playing.’

      ‘I shall go and enjoy myself. Where was that note from Mrs Parteger? After all, I do have an invitation. A seat has been saved.’

      ‘You were wrong to send that letter discarding Sir Christopher.’ Stephanie sank down next to Hattie in a flurry of feathers and ruffles.

      ‘This is not the time to discuss it, Stephanie,’ Hattie said through clenched teeth. She had to wonder how much Stephanie knew of the contents. ‘The concert to celebrate the deliverance from Napoleon is about to begin.’

      ‘You always do such things to me. At least this time, hopefully I learnt about it early enough.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Oh dear!’

      ‘I have no idea what you are talking about, Stephanie.’ Hattie slid towards the vacant chair on her right. Stephanie’s feathered turban kept tickling her nose. The last thing she needed now was a frank-and-public discussion about her severing relations with Kit. ‘What is the problem?’

      ‘Maria Richley has waylaid Sir Christopher.’

      Hattie fought against the inclination to turn her head. She had counted on Kit not appearing at this concert. ‘Really? I wish her the joy of it.’

      ‘I feel certain that the Widow Richley will not squander any opportunity. No … hush.’ Stephanie laid a proprietary hand on Hattie’s arm. ‘All might not be lost, Hattie. Be civil if he approaches.’

      ‘You are making it seem like I am younger than Portia.’

      A trill of laughter cut through the musician’s tuning. Hattie turned her head. Maria Richley clung to Kit’s arm as if she were drowning. Over the heads of the other concertgoers, Kit nodded directly at her. A sardonic smile curled on his lips. He leant down and said something to Maria Richley, which sent the woman into further peals of laughter.

      Hattie forced her eyes forwards. She crumpled the music programme in her hand. It was none of her business if he chose to enjoy Maria Richley’s favours. All it did was to confirm that she’d been correct in the first place. That man was trouble.

      Only she wished that he had not stood quite so close to Maria Richley.

      Her view was suddenly obscured by a large expanse of black broad cloth.

      ‘Mrs Parteger, Mrs Wilkinson … if I may squeeze in? You have a free seat, I believe.’

      Hattie shrank in her seat. She was now going to have to spend several hours trapped between Stephanie’s headdress and the vicar, Dr Hornby’s, bulk. The perfect way to spend an evening. No doubt Kit would have secured a place with plenty of space for Maria Richley.

      ‘Doctor Hornby.’

      ‘Your sister said that you would be here, Mrs Wilkinson. How delightful to see you again.’ Doctor Hornby gave a jowly smile. ‘I’m looking forward to the planned lecture series now that it is finally settled. You will come to my lecture on the problems of mapping the Holy Places in two weeks’ time?’

      Murder, Hattie decided, was too humane a punishment for Stephanie. She needed to be tortured slowly. ‘I look forward to it.’

      ‘My dear Mrs Wilkinson, you do me such honour.’ Doctor Hornby made a grab for her hand and froze. His face became a mottled purple.

      ‘Are you well, Dr Hornby?’

      ‘Perfectly fine. I must leave you ladies.’

      Hattie had half-turned and saw Kit glowering. He gave her a cold nod. ‘As long as you are certain.’

      ‘On second thoughts, I do believe Miss Gormley has saved me a seat. I would hate to disappoint her.’

      ‘I understand completely.’

      Hattie drew in a breath of air and concentrated on steadying her pulse. She resisted the urge to turn around and see Kit’s reaction. They were finished, and she was not going to be kissed again. Ever. The thought made her unbearably sad.

      ‘If you will excuse me … I believe this is my seat.’ Kit pushed passed her and sat down in the chair Dr Hornby had just vacated.

      ‘I hadn’t realised it was spoken for.’

      ‘It was.’ He turned his back on her. ‘Mrs Parteger saved it for me.’

      Stephanie developed a sudden interest in her programme and ignored Hattie’s sudden jab to her side.

      Hattie spent the entire concert busily trying to ignore his very existence. And failing. She rejected a number of possible conversation topics but finally settled on a polite discussion of music. She’d demonstrate to Stephanie and Kit that she bore no ill feeling. The remainder of the concert was spent in happy contemplation of what she would say.

      When the concert was over, he stood up.

      ‘It has been a pleasure, Mrs Wilkinson, Mrs Parteger.’

      Before Hattie could utter another word, he was gone.

      ‘You could have done more, Hattie. I am highly disappointed in you.’

      ‘He nearly cut me dead.’

      ‘You were the one to send the letter. Ill timed and ill advised. I was attempting to mend bridges. Sir Christopher is a neighbour.’

      He’d СКАЧАТЬ