hours of the morning and lay, gazing up at the ceiling. His entire body ached from the fight, but also with desire for Hattie. It unnerved him.
He kept willing himself to remember all the events. He couldn’t have asked Hattie to stay. He never did things like that. He never tried to compromise anyone else’s freedom in that way or put demands on them. Asking someone to stay would mean he had feelings for Hattie and he always made a point to end a relationship then. He refused to allow himself to be hurt.
What was worse was that he distinctly remembered speaking about his father. Kit had spent several years forgetting about him, his quick fists, the never-ending stream of perfumed women and his refusal to allow them in his life. He took pride in the fact that his fortune had not come from his inheritance, but from shrewd business decisions.
In his mind he went over the kisses in the hallway. None of them was supposed to happen. He had gone out to comfort her and to make sure that she wasn’t hurting. And he’d nearly ended up seducing her. He should give her up. But having tasted the pure honey of her mouth, he knew he wanted more. It had infected him the first time he’d kissed her at the Roman ruins. He’d thought the feeling would diminish, but it had only grown stronger.
He knew she’d only kissed him out of a need to stop thinking. But he was very glad she had.
Now he was going to have to consider how to put things to rights and conduct their summer affair.
Discretion was called for and, as much as he might not like it, he had to take the hard decisions now. When autumn came, it would end, but Hattie would need to be protected. For once he was going to do this right.
Hattie sat in the dining room, staring at her half-eaten breakfast. Moth lay under the table, waiting for crumbs.
She had gone to bed, but had lain fully dressed, waiting to hear the slightest movement from the sickroom. Mrs Hampstead had appeared about six and told her to sleep.
‘I came as soon as it was practicable, Hattie. These scrapes you do get in. I declare you are worse than the children.’ Stephanie strode in, every inch the outraged matron.
Hattie dropped her piece of toast and stared at her sister. Silently she thanked her guardian angel that Kit remained upstairs, asleep in the sickroom. She swallowed hard to get rid of the tightness in her throat. ‘Stephanie. How good of you to call and at such an early hour. It is not even ten.’
Stephanie towered over like some avenging angel from the inquisition. The ribbons on her bonnet trembled. ‘Is it true that you insisted on bringing Sir Christopher here after what happened? Have you taken leave of your senses? Never mind the village, the entire Tyne Valley and possibly all of Northumberland are speaking about the fight and the aftermath. Your behaviour, Hattie, has been much remarked on.’
‘No, I had my senses fully engaged. Sir Christopher had just rescued me from what is delicately referred to as a fate worse than death. I had no intention of leaving him to bleed on the muddy ground. Would you have done that?’
‘You owed him nothing.’
‘We shall agree to disagree on that. I always pay my debts.’ Hattie gave a small shudder as she recalled how the drunk had pawed her and how his fetid breath had smelt. She hadn’t been strong enough to fight him. ‘He saved me and was injured, probably badly injured. Doctor Gormley has diagnosed a mild concussion at best. What sort of person do you take me for to put some form of mock refinement before my duty?’
‘Surely Dr Gormley would have taken him in?’
‘It was two hours before Dr. Gormley was found in the ale tent. I do not think he could have seen straight to sew stitches. And you know that his housekeeper is rather too fond of whiskey to be fully trusted.’
‘It would appear that I misjudged matters,’ Stephanie mumbled, sinking down into a chair. ‘You were attacked. He saved you. Of course, it was right and proper in those circumstances to behave in the manner you did. I will make the appropriate people know how proud we are of you. It should stop the worst of the gossip.’
‘You have indeed.’ Hattie crossed her arms. She clearly recalled the enlightening conversation she’d had with Portia and Livvy on the way to the fair. Stephanie’s meddling and interference stopped now. ‘You rushed in without waiting for an explanation, Stephanie. However, if I had decided to utterly ruin myself, that would have been my business.’
‘You won’t be ruined. I will force him to marry you if needs be,’ Stephanie declared. ‘You can count on me.’
‘How?’
‘I will think of something.’ Stephanie’s ribbons swayed as her face took on a defiant air. ‘I’m not a woman without influence. Mr Parteger will ensure the right and proper thing is done.’
‘You mean a duel.’
‘If called upon, my husband will be happy to defend your honour.’ Stephanie put her hand to her mouth. ‘But I doubt it will come to that. Sir Christopher will see the sense in my argument.’
Hattie shuddered at even the merest suggestion of a duel between Kit and her brother-in-law. In her mind’s eyes she could see her brother-in-law’s rather rotund figure lining up to face Kit’s rather more athletic form. She was torn between laughing and crying at the prospect. She leant down and stroked Moth’s ears, regaining some semblance of control.
‘I would hardly want Mr Parteger fighting a duel over my reputation. Besides, it is utterly pointless and unnecessary. Nothing happened. How could it? Sir Christopher was insensible most of the time. You worry needlessly. Mrs Hampstead is here and you know what an ogress she can be. I remember when you were courting. You used to complain bitterly about Mrs Hampstead poking her nose into the drawing room.’
Stephanie readjusted the ribbons of her bonnet and gave a pained expression. ‘Are you willing to give me an assurance that nothing untoward happened last night?’
‘When have I ever done anything that was in the remotest way indiscreet?’ Hattie sat back in her chair and waited, swallowing her other caustic retorts. Patience was required with Stephanie, not barbs.
‘You have changed your hair. It is softer. Suits your face.’
‘I thought I’d worn a crown of braids long enough. I like the ringlets.’ Hattie tilted her head and regarded her sister through narrowed eyes. Stephanie had to be redirected before she started asking awkward questions. ‘You are changing the subject, Stephanie. It generally means you are losing the argument.’
‘You always look for the ulterior motive. I noticed it and I like it. I can also guess the reason.’ Stephanie reached over and squeezed Hattie’s hand. ‘I’m your sister. I care about you, but you need to be careful. Sir Christopher has a much different stamp than your dear, but now long-departed, Captain Wilkinson. You were always too reckless, Hattie, even as a girl. I can’t help fearing for your reputation. I want to make it right for you.’
Stephanie was worried about her. She was tempted to tell her that Sir Christopher was a man of entirely different sensibility than Charles, but it would leave her open to questioning and, having faced one storm last night, she knew she couldn’t face another. And she had to wonder how much Stephanie knew or guessed. Her husband had been a friend of sorts to Charles.
‘Mrs Wilkinson was merely doing her Christian duty,’ Kit’s lazy voice said from the doorway before Hattie could think up
