Hattie Wilkinson Meets Her Match Page 17

  ‘Look for the little clues—how they hold the bit, place their hooves or react to small noises—as well as the big items such as the way they move or their teeth.’ He smiled down at her, preparing to be indulgent now that she’d agreed not to buy that horse.

  She nodded seriously. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘My father used to say to look at the neck. You can tell a lot about a horse by the way it carries its head. It is probably an old wives’ tale, but it has held me in good stead. There is something about a horse’s neck.’

  ‘Do you judge people in the same way?’ She turned and Kit looked at her long swanlike neck. He wondered that he had ever thought her severe and lacking in beauty. Every time he saw her, he found something else to admire. Her charms might not be as on display as some, but he found himself thinking about her at odd times of the day, remembering different features.

  ‘I like your neck.’

  She laughed, a tinkling sound that filled the air with light. He could listen to it all day. ‘I shall take that as a compliment.’

  A horse crossed in front of them and he took the opportunity to move closer than strictly proper. ‘I intend to show my appreciation later.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘Of course and you know I never break my promises.’

  He basked in her smile, but their current arrangement was unsatisfactory. Finding odd ways to meet and conducting their affair away from prying eyes was sensible, but he wanted to spend more time with her. He tried to tell himself that it was purely physical and, once they spent time together, he’d start to see her faults. He’d become bored or she’d become demanding. Right now the key to that was finding a suitable horse.

  ‘We will find the proper horse for you today. Traipsing all over Northumberland is not going to happen. There will be more suitable horses over here.’

  ‘Kit?’ Hattie said, confused. Kit’s mood had suddenly changed. He had to understand that the horse needed to be her choice, not his. He didn’t answer, but continued to walk away from her.

  She hurried after him. ‘Where do you think you are going?’

  A scrawny boy in rags leading a chestnut horse caused him to draw up and she caught up with him. His face appeared very serious.

  ‘What is the problem?’

  ‘I spied Mr Dent and wasn’t sure if you wanted to be seen with me.’

  She breathed a sigh of relief. He was considerate. ‘Mrs Hampstead is sitting with a cup of tea and Harvey, my groom, is about ten paces behind. Everything is above board. I did think about that eventuality. Wherever you go in the Tyne Valley, you are sure to run into someone you know.’

  ‘What about the grey?’ He pointed towards where a large placid horse stood.

  Hattie peered more closely at the ragged boy and then the chestnut horse shook her head and she knew. She knew precisely what Kit meant by looking for the little things. ‘I want the chestnut unless you have an objection?’

  ‘The chestnut? But that one is a bit more spirited than I would like.’ He put his hand under her elbow. ‘You might like to take another look at the grey. I think the chestnut may have been mistreated.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you say that?’

  He nodded towards the boy who soothed the horse with his hand. The horse calmed instantly. ‘Instinct.’

  ‘But horses recover from ill treatment.’

  ‘Some better than others.’ He nodded. ‘It takes time and patience. The boy has a way with horses that most people can only dream about. All you have to do is watch him and see how he moves.’

  Hattie’s heart constricted at the sight of the boy’s pinched face and the way his ragged clothes hung off his frame. ‘Oh, Kit. He looks half-starved. Can you do anything? We ought to buy him a pie.’

  She fumbled in her reticule.

  ‘I was willing to buy the horse for you. The boy is another matter.’

  ‘Buy the boy?’ She stared at him in astonishment. ‘Is this Sir Christopher Foxton, the man who does not get involved, talking?’

  ‘It will take more than a pie to cure him. He needs a chance.’

  ‘I want the chestnut, Kit, and I am paying. Sometimes you just know deep within your gut that a horse is right.’ She glanced up at him. ‘A pie is better than nothing. And he will have made a sale.’

  ‘Shall we put the horse through its paces then? First things first, Harriet. The horse, and then we’ll see about the boy.’

  Kit signalled to the boy, who brought the horse over. Kit ran his hands over the horse’s legs, examining every inch and talking to it softly. The way he moved over the horse reminded Hattie of how his hands touched her when they were making love, never unhurried or rough, but gentle and firm. The boy answered all his questions, becoming more animated as he realised that Kit actually cared about the horses.

  ‘She will do,’ he said finally.

  Hattie let out her breath. ‘Thank you.’

  Kit spoke quietly to the lad, who raced back to his master.

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘That you were a lady and interested in buying the horse for a fair price, rather than haggling. I know you will pay the price, but for once, Hattie, let me do the speaking.’

  A rather overbearing farmer approached with quick footsteps and a greedy eye, and the bargaining began. Hattie was pleased that Kit took control and extracted a far better price than she thought possible. His eyes shone and she could tell that he was enjoying the process, whereas she would have been tempted to pay the first price.

  ‘And now I will have the boy get us something to wet our whistles,’ the farmer said, rubbing his hands together. ‘You and your lady can surely spare the time to do that.’

  ‘I am not his lady,’ Hattie stiffly. ‘We are merely...’

  ‘Neighbours,’ Kit supplied.

  The farmer nodded as if he understood.

  ‘Your boy?’ Hattie asked as the lad ran off.

  ‘The bastard son of my housemaid. His mam died when he were whelped and I have done my Christian duty by him.’

  When the boy came back, he stumbled and spilled the tankard of ale. Hattie stifled a gasp as the man clouted him around the ear. Kit strode to the man and caught his wrist, preventing him from delivering the second blow.

  ‘I don’t think you want to do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Mrs Wilkinson has just purchased that horse, but I want the boy. He has a way of gentling horses. It can’t be taught, but it can be cultivated.’

  The farmer frowned. ‘He is mine, but good for nothing. Eats too much. Rarely minds.’

  ‘Send him to Southview Lodge near Stagshaw. I will pay you twice the price of the horse.’ Kit ignored Hattie’s sudden indrawn breath. ‘Better still, I will take him now. I can use a boy like that in my stables. It is an honest trade.’

  The man held out a dirty hand. ‘I ken a deal when I see it. John, you be a good lad to his lordship.’

  Kit knelt down and looked the ragged boy square in the eyes. ‘If you work hard, and are honest, I will promise not to beat you and to ensure you are taught an honest trade.’

  The boy beamed back at him. Kit felt as if the world had lit up. ‘Aye, that would be good, your lordship.’

  ‘Take the horse, then. You see her back to this

  lady’s house and get her settled, but you will be in my stables.’

  ‘You will need the strap on him. He is a wilful lad.’

  Kit turned towards the man and gave him an ice-cold stare. ‘I sincerely doubt it.’

  ‘You were magnificent, Kit,’ Hattie breathed as they walked back to the carriage with Mrs Hampstead trailing behind, holding the boy’s hand.

  ‘Most women of my acquaintance are impressed with jewels or new gowns. Trust you to be different. Luckily I considered this when I made the offer.’ Kit waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer.

  Hattie pressed her lips together. He was making light of what he’d done, dismissing it as nothing
, just as he’d done about Waterloo. ‘Giving that boy a chance. Do you normally do things like that?’

  ‘Please don’t make me out to be a saint. It was a whim, nothing more.’ Kit pushed the brim of his hat down, shielding his eyes. ‘I’m currently a stable boy short. It is just that I took a chance. He might run off or not work out. Selfish of me more than anything.’

  She glanced at him under her lashes. Whatever his motivations, Kit had done it and it wasn’t a whim or an impulse. He’d done it because of what had happened to him as a boy. It amazed her that she’d been so wrong about him when they first met. There was far more to him than superficial charm. ‘I trust your judgement.’

  ‘You should have allowed me to pay for the horse, then.’

  ‘You did quite enough with the boy. More than enough. I suspect you saved his life.’ Hattie looked over towards where the young boy stood quietly chatting with Kit’s coachman as Mrs Hampstead got into the carriage. Less than an hour, and she could already see a change in the boy. He stood taller, his shoulders were less hunched. ‘You did a great thing, Kit. Don’t belittle what you did. Allow me to think you a hero.’

  His face became stony. ‘What you are going to call this new horse of yours?’

  ‘Strawberry.’ She allowed him to change the subject.

  ‘Strawberry?’

  ‘For obvious reasons. The horse’s colour reminds me of strawberry jam.’

  ‘And all that goes with it?’

  Their shared laughter rang out over the stable yard. Several people turned around and looked at them as if they were mad. Hattie relaxed slightly. It didn’t matter if people saw them together here as they were properly chaperoned. ‘If you hadn’t been so concerned about the boy, I’d never have noticed the horse. I might have gone for the obvious one and paid over the odds. This one had hidden talents. All it needed was a bit of encouragement.’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘It reminds me of someone I know. A tiny bit of encouragement and her full beauty was revealed.’

  ‘I wonder who you might be thinking of?’ Hattie enjoyed the warm feeling rushing through her. It was the less obvious compliments which made her feel utterly beautiful. ‘Now when we ride, you will be the one who needs to keep up.’

  ‘You seem awfully sure about that. Would you care to wager?’

  She glanced up at him. ‘Are we at the point of wagering?’

  He slid his hand slowly down her arm until his fingers curled about hers and squeezed tightly. ‘Yes, definitely.’

  * * *

  Hattie leant forwards in her saddle and urged Strawberry up the slope. She’d had her horse only a few short weeks, but she already saw a huge difference in her riding ability. Over the past few weeks, even though it was never specifically planned, she and Kit seemed to meet most mornings on horseback for a gallop across the fells.

  Keeping her independence was important. Whatever happened long term with Kit, she knew she’d treasure Strawberry. Kit had wanted to give her this horse and that was enough. She hated that she clung to every moment they were together, hoarding them like they were precious jewels. If she started to accept gifts, it would change their relationship. Hattie knew that she could never be a kept woman. She never wanted to become like Charles’s mistress.

  Kit was the perfect companion. They spoke about everything. She learnt how the renovations for the house were going and how John the stable boy was working out. Her concern appeared to amuse Kit. Kit predicted that with a little schooling, the boy could go far, but he never said when or where it would take place. In odd moments, when she was on her own, it bothered Hattie as it was another sign that this was a summer romance, rather than anything permanent. But wasn’t that what she wanted, too? All she would allow herself?

  Besides, being involved in a summer’s romance was an exhilarating feeling. Even Stephanie’s complaints about her pregnancy and her increasing demands failed to dampen Hattie’s enthusiasm for riding and for the clandestine affair. She rejoiced in the knowledge that it belonged to her and Kit only.

  She reined in Strawberry at the top of the hill. Kit came thundering up the hill, a few feet behind her. ‘You see, Kit, I could do it. I was able to take the wall and land correctly.’

  ‘You made it to the top of the hill first...for once.’ His grey eyes twinkled as he dismounted. ‘You are fast becoming an expert rider. Only a week ago, you’d have avoided that wall. Today, there was no hesitation.’

  ‘It felt like flying.’

  ‘You should take care. The last thing anyone wants is for you to get hurt.’

  ‘What are my winnings?’ She slid off Strawberry’s back and looped the reins around a branch. A buoyant happiness filled her. She had done it. She had actually jumped the dry stone wall and flown over the stream, things she never dreamt possible. And she wasn’t going to allow Kit’s sudden concern to dampen her triumph.

  A dimple shone in the corner of his mouth. ‘What were you thinking?’

  She glanced about her. The ridge was secluded and private. She stripped off her gloves and hat, and placed them on the ground. She lifted her face to his. ‘A kiss. No one is here. No one will spy on us.’

  ‘My lady is demanding. A kiss it shall be.’ He lowered his mouth to hers and brushed her lips. She wrapped her arms about his neck and drank from his mouth.

  ‘You call that a kiss? Your hat kept hitting my forehead.’ Hattie knew her breath was coming a little too fast.

  ‘A thousand pardons.’ He took off his hat and tossed it neatly on top of hers before undoing his neckcloth.

  ‘That’s a bit better.’ A deliciously wicked shiver went through her. There was something to be said for enjoying Kit’s company. He was the perfect companion for playing and she had a hard time remembering when she’d last played so much.

  He gave a husky laugh and pulled her body into his so that their pelvises touched. ‘Perhaps I should allow you to win more often.’

  ‘Only if I deserve it.’

  ‘You definitely deserve to be kissed.’ He pulled her more firmly into his arms. ‘And for once no one is here.’

  ‘I take it you wish to stay here for a while.’

  ‘I might do...unless there is a call upon your time.’

  ‘Do you think we dare?’

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. His eyes crinkled in the corners. ‘We can do what we want, but I suspect the grass will be itchy. And you will get seeds in your hair again.’

  ‘Mrs Hampstead keeps her conversation to domestic trivialities these days and Stephanie is utterly absorbed in her family. She never asks about how I spend my time.’ Hattie bit her lip. She’d been thinking about touching him all morning while she was listening to Stephanie’s complaints about how Livvy had suddenly become a bluestocking and was constantly seeking to go to the circulating library. She’d wanted to feel his skin under her hands and had stopped herself from saying something just in time.

  Sometimes, in her wilder moments, she did wonder what her sister would do if she confessed to her indiscretion.

  ‘You’re wearing your serious face.’

  ‘Stephanie gets worse. She keeps dropping subtle hints about me moving in with her until the baby comes. And I can’t. The walls would press down on me too much.’ Hattie knew it was another half-truth. If she had to move back there, all these clandestine meetings with Kit would have to cease.

  He brought her hand to his lips. His eyes turned deep grey. ‘I’d prefer a soft bed with clean sheets and a roof over our head, and hour upon hour to enjoy you without your sister calling on you at all hours. Someone will have to give way.’

  ‘That is impossible, here. This is not London where you can be anonymous.’ She glanced over her shoulder. Thus far, the gossip had been muted, but she knew the limits. Discretion rather than full-blown flaunting of the relationship.

  When they met at social occasions, it was never by design but by happenstance. Hattie was always careful not to spend too much time spe
aking to him. She loved hugging the secret to her bosom.

  ‘We’re far too well known,’ she said firmly. ‘I shudder to think what would happen if knowledge of this became common currency. It would ruin Livvy’s chances. I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Have you thought about taking a trip?’ He moved closer. A faint breeze tousled his hair, giving him a rakish air. ‘We could travel to the Continent. There is no trouble with travelling now that the war is truly over. You could see the places you always wanted to—Rome, Vienna, even Paris.’

  Her heart turned over. He wanted to go travelling with her. A brief vision danced before her eyes. She could visit all those places that she had read about, but it would be better because he would by her side, sharing the experience. It would mean what was between them was more than a summer’s romance.

  He was fast becoming as necessary as breathing.

  How had it happened? She cared about him. More than cared for him, she carried him in her heart. Loved him. That was not supposed to happen. Everything she’d done had been based on keeping her heart safe and enjoying the physical passion. She knew it was a summer’s affair, nothing more, something that would fade when the autumn winds came, but somehow her heart had forgotten that important fact.

  The feeling nearly took her breath away, only to be immediately replaced with despondency. He had never offered for ever. He’d been clear about that at the start. He was everything that she thought she’d despise—a man who used charm and who could not be counted on. He was not the sort of man to love.

  She knew how destructive one-sided love had been to her once. She turned her face from his and attempted to control her emotions.

  ‘Hattie, are you all right?’ His voice penetrated through her confusion. ‘I’d expected you to smother my face with kisses. A trip to Europe this autumn. If you insist, we can take Mrs Hampstead as cover and pretend to accidentally meet.’

  ‘Perfectly. I just remembered that Stephanie wanted help with the flowers this evening. She is giving a small dinner party before the Dents’ musicale. I forgot to say no.’

  ‘She makes too many demands of you,’ he said flatly. ‘You need to learn to refuse her sometimes.’