days. She is looking at the other stalls, but I always come back to Hedley’s.
There is a certain something about the way they soften the leather.’ She stretched out her hand. ‘I can’t make up my mind about whether the butter yellow or light tan is best.’
‘For riding?’
‘General purpose.’
He looked down at her hands. Her fingers were small and slender, but there was a certain indomitable strength in them. She was the sort of woman who would bend, but not break. ‘Can a lady accept gloves from a gentleman or would it be too intimate a gift?’
Her eyes twinkled, warming him. He found he’d missed the barely suppressed humour. ‘I suspect you already know the answer.’
‘A pity as those butter-yellow gloves suit your hands perfectly.’ He waited for her to agree. ‘It is a fair day after all and the normal rules don’t apply.’
‘I would hate to cause talk. And you make your rules as you go along in any case.’
‘Not all my rules. Some are immovable.’
‘But most of them. It lulls people into a false sense of security.’
‘Is it my fault if they wish to be lulled?’
Hattie stripped off the glove and handed it back to the stall owner with a decided shake of her head. As she began to make a pile of the various other gloves, Kit signalled first to the stall owner and then to Rupert, handing the stall owner some money. He’d give Hattie the gloves when the time was right.
‘Is the fair everything you hoped at Waterloo?’ she asked, glancing up just after he had completed the transaction.
‘It is everything I remember, but it is as if I am looking through a Claude glass rather than actually being here.’ He gave a laugh. ‘Perhaps I need a guide.’
Her hand brushed his as she reached for the next set of gloves. ‘Is there anything missing? Something that would help make the day perfect?’
Kit contemplated saying her exploring the fair with him, but decided that it would be revealing too much. He opted for something safer, less declaratory. ‘I need to find a toy manufacturer.’
Her hands stilled. ‘What sort of toys? Dolls? Wooden tops? You hardly seem like the child-loving sort.’
‘Jumping-jacks—little men or women with a string you pull. I had one from the fair when I was a young boy. My uncle bought it for me.’ Kit gazed over her shoulder and knew it would help ease the unsettled feeling if he could find the stall. It would reassure him that there was nothing magical about the stall. The jumping-jack was just that, a wooden toy. ‘I wanted to see if such a creature still existed. The stall holder had a humpback and a hook nose, but he made the most wonderful wooden toys.’
Her mouth became a perfect O. ‘You had one as a boy. From this fair. It is why you wanted to come back here?’
‘That’s right,’ he agreed, surprised that she had guessed. ‘My uncle gave me one as consolation.’
‘Consolation? That is a strange word to use. Why did you need consolation? Had someone died?’
‘I had waited outside the ale tent for hours.’ Kit clamped his mouth shut. He had explained too much already. He remembered thinking that he’d meet his mother. Of course she had never appeared. He’d blocked the memory until now. The last thing he wanted was to discuss his mother, particularly not with Hattie Wilkinson. He’d already revealed more about his past than he’d intended. He never spoke about her. It saved having people look at him with pity.
‘You won’t find one on this row.’ Hattie’s brow knitted. ‘The toy manufacturers are two rows down, near the London Spice merchant. I think I know the one you mean. I used to buy my nieces and nephews toys from him when they were little.’
‘It sounds straightforward enough.’ Kit touched his hat. He silently thanked her for not pursuing the topic. ‘Rupert …’
Rupert had wandered down the stall and appeared to be in earnest discussion with Miss Parteger over a pair of gloves. Instantly he broke off the conversation and stood up straighter. Rupert appeared to have taken their conversations to heart. Kit gave a wry smile. Then he was Brendan’s boy and Brendan could always be counted on to do what was right.
‘I’m about to go that way after Livvy finishes and I return her to her mother.’
He caught her hand. ‘And you won’t lead me astray?’
She tilted her head to one side. Her eyes danced with mischief. ‘I can show you if you like. As for leading you astray, I fear you went from that path long ago.’
Kit laughed. A heartbeat later, Hattie joined in.
The sound of her laughter made the whole day seem brighter. Kit knew he would get his way. He’d enjoy today and finish the flirtation before it started to mean anything. It was better that way. He’d retrieve the gloves from Rupert later and send them with a note before he left for London. And he would leave for London, once his business here was finished.
‘That would be perfect. With you by my side, Mrs Wilkinson, I know I shan’t lose my way.’
‘I’ll tell Livvy to hurry up. She has lingered far longer than I thought she would. Portia and Stephanie went off to buy oranges over an hour ago.’
‘Rupert can look after your niece. He is quite safe.’
‘Are you sure? The memory of the card room lingers.’
‘He has grown on this trip. You must take my word for it.’
‘I shall.’
Kit called to Rupert and told him to take Miss Parteger back to her mother without stopping for refreshment on the way. His godson blushed a deep scarlet.
‘Very neatly done.’
‘I like to think so.’ Kit tucked her hand in the crook of his arm before she had a chance to pull away. ‘What is the wagering that they do stop? Maybe not for refreshment, but to watch a Punch and Judy show or one of the other entertainments?’
‘Just so you know, I never bet on a sure thing. It takes the fun out of it. Everyone should have a little romance in their life. It will be harmless.’
‘You surprise me, Mrs Wilkinson. I was willing to wager on you not understanding about young romance except I make it a policy never to wager on a lady, only with her.’
Her eyes turned cloudy and something close to sorrow tugged at her mouth. In that instant, Kit hated her late husband. Seven years and he retained a hold over her. ‘You are wrong about that. I understand about romance and its perils all too well.’
‘Is this the one you want? Now that we are finally here.’ Hattie held up a red-coated jumping-jack.
‘And whose fault is that?’
‘Yours, I believe.’ She gave a light laugh, basking in the warmth of his smile. ‘You kept seeing another stall you wanted to
