have them near after Charles’s death. They restored my faith in humanity.’
‘You should try living for yourself more.’
‘It’s funny … that is precisely what Mrs Reynaud said.’ She straightened her back. ‘You mustn’t worry. Once they are grown, I intend to travel the world, really travel. There are so many places I long to see. I make a list every year. I only stay in Northumberland because Stephanie and her girls can’t cope without me.’
‘Mrs Reynaud?’ A puzzled look came on his face and he seemed to go rigid. ‘Do you know someone called Reynaud?’
‘An elderly lady. One of your tenants. At Pearl Cottage.’
‘None of my tenants is called Reynaud. I would know.’
‘Perhaps she used a different name.’ Hattie gave a little shrug. ‘Her agreement was with your uncle. I think she knew your family when she was younger.’ Hattie lowered her voice. ‘She has led an exciting life and doles out tales of her wickedness. Stephanie doesn’t entirely approve of her, but I enjoy her company.’
Kit’s face became carved out of stone. All humour and goodwill had vanished. ‘I can’t remember ever meeting a Mrs Reynaud. What does she look like?’
‘She says she is much altered. A few years ago before she came to the Tyne Valley, she suffered from smallpox and totally lost her looks. Recently she has become more of a recluse than ever. Mrs Belter told me that she had refused to come to the fair because the children might point their fingers and call her a witch.’
Kit tapped his fingers together. He looked her up and down in an assessing sort of way. Hattie was aware of the simplicity of her dress and the fact that it was several seasons old. He must consider it hopelessly naïve and unattractive. He took a step closer to her and his eyes became almost feline.
‘I agree with her assessment, whoever this Mrs Reynaud is. You should have a life, Hattie, and let your nieces lead their own.’ His hand slid down her back and his breath tickled her ear. ‘It is your life to live. You only have one. Seize it.’
‘I don’t understand what you are saying.’ She hated the way her voice caught. Her lips ached as if he had kissed them again.
‘I think you do.’ His voice rolled over her, silently urging her to move closer. Seductive in the extreme. ‘I think you understand me very well. We could be good together.’
Hattie pulled her hand away. She pressed her fingers to her temples and willed the siren call to be gone. She knew what he was asking and she also knew she wasn’t ready. Not today and probably not ever. She had to leave now and not look back.
‘Hattie?’
‘When I require your advice, I’ll ask,’ she said stiffly. She had nearly done it and she couldn’t. She’d hate herself later if she embarked on an affair. She wasn’t going to be like … like her late husband’s mistress. She shuddered, remembering the time she’d visited and how awkward it had all been. She had to stay with where she was safe. She started to walk away from Kit.
‘Where are you going now?’ He reached her in two strides and put his hand on her elbow, bringing her against his body. ‘I didn’t think you were given to false modesty, Hattie.’
‘Stephanie will have created a small camp for us near the black-faced sheep. She worries about my brother-in-law becoming lost and so they go back to the same place every year.’ Hattie jerked her arm away. To think how close she had come! Poor deluded Hattie had nearly done it again. Been swept away on the romance and forgetting the cost. ‘They will be wondering where I am. It was bad of me to go off like this.’
The dimple shone in his cheek, highlighting his lips. ‘Your brother-in-law gets confused?’
‘It is the one day of the year that he spends time in the ale tent. Stephanie refuses to go in, but always waits to take him home.’ Hattie gave a careful shrug, but she was aware of how near he stood and where his hands were. Her sister and brother-in-law were very different but they did seem to have a happy marriage, something that was for ever going to elude her. All she wanted to do was to find a quiet place and regain control of herself. She’d been so close to giving in to temptation. It had been seeing the longing in his face when he held the jumping-jack in his hand which had nearly undone her and made her think that he might want something else. ‘It is an arrangement which has served them well.’
‘Shall I walk you there? Fairs can be notorious for drunks and others making a nuisance. Allow me to keep you safe.’
‘I can find my own way.’ Hattie used her reticule as a shield. ‘The fair has so much to offer. You must try the ale tent yourself. If you find my brother-in-law, remind him that we are expecting to go home at a reasonable hour rather than at eight when the fair finishes. Please let me go, Kit.’
‘Independent to a fault.’ He held up his hand and his eyes became steely grey. ‘I understand.’
Hattie didn’t flinch even though she was dying inside. ‘It is the way I like it. Independent but respectable. I can’t have it any other way.’
‘Because of your husband’s memory?’
‘Do not bring my late husband into this.’ A cold chill went down her spine. She couldn’t lie about Charles. Not to Kit. The thought stunned her.
‘Let me know if you ever feel lonely.’
‘I bid you adieu, Kit. I’ll understand if you have to go back to London suddenly.’ She made an expansive gesture as her insides wept. ‘I hope this is everything you wanted.’
His hand curled about hers and then let go. ‘Thank you, Hattie … for my jumping-jack.’
Hattie forced herself to walk away without looking back. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she knew it was the right thing. Kit suddenly appeared to be taking liberties, to misunderstand why she’d purchased that stupid jumping-jack. She was safer on her own.
Walking away from Kit was the right thing to do, Hattie thought as she strode away from where he stood. To stay would mean giving in to temptation and starting to believe that there was something between them. She had nearly cried when he told her the story about the jumping-jack and then he became so cold, practically accusing her of trying to interfere. And then he’d made the suggestion and it changed everything. She was not going to tumble into bed with him. Ever.
Hattie pushed past the gawkers around the find-a-penny man and the farmers and their wives outside the exotic curiosity stall. She resisted the temptation to turn around and see where Kit was.
A gypsy cart had become stuck in the middle of a boggy bit. Hattie attempted to squeeze around the back, ignoring the gypsy woman who offered to read the pretty lady’s fortune. When she was a little girl, Mrs Hampstead used to tell stories about how gypsies spirited people away, over and over again because Stephanie loved being scared. Even now, Hattie was not entirely comfortable around them. They were harmless for the most part and a simple ‘no’ generally sufficed.
A gypsy man with a scarlet bandana and a gold earring loomed up in front of her, asking if she wanted a bit
