Guy took the blanket from the hamper and spread it under a tree away from the edge of the road. Hattie sat with her legs curled beneath her, skirt spread around her to dry in the sun. He offered her one of the linen napkins to lay on her lap, and together they unpacked paper-wrapped chicken sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, and two plump, juicy pears.
Guy removed the cork on the wine bottle and poured into cut-glass goblets. He handed one to Hattie and offered a toast. “To a lovely day, spent with a lovely woman. It has been worth every insect bite that will drive me mad later.”
She smiled and sipped the wine. “Heavenly! And the food looks delicious. Did your cook put together the picnic?”
“I don’t have a cook, only a housekeeper, and I made these sandwiches with my own hands.”
“Do you not live in a fully staffed town house? I assumed you would. I’m afraid I’ve asked you little about your life.”
“I sold both my family homes after Father passed. Neither held happy memories for me. With the sale of the two properties, I purchased a new house to decorate to my liking. Since I’d grown used to a bachelor’s freedom, I only hired a butler and housekeeper to maintain the place. Day maids are hired as Mrs. Hallifax needs them. By maintaining a reasonable budget, I may enjoy my many activities. Between my business manager and an investment advisor I am able to continue to grow my father’s wealth.”
Why was he suddenly informing her of his financial details? To demonstrate he was a well set marital prospect? Blast Carmody for mentioning marriage! Thoughts of it insidiously crept into Guy’s brain: what might life be like shared with a woman like Hattie? Would he find domesticity fulfilling? Might noisy children be an option?
And the most basic of questions: would Hattie even consider an indolent fellow like himself a worthy partner?
These were disturbing thoughts to have concerning some woman he’d only just met. In fact, Guy’s unease over the possibility of becoming too involved was the main reason he’d taken two days before reaching out to Hattie again.
“Enough about me. Tell me more of yourself. Perhaps an amusing anecdote from your childhood.”
Hattie chewed her sandwich thoughtfully before finally replying. “There’s nothing unusual about me. I was like most girls, I suppose. I played games when I was young, learned my lessons with my governess, and would likely have married a man of whom my family approved—if things had not gone in a different direction.”
Again she referred to her mysterious past. He mustn’t appear too eager or he would frighten her away from the subject. “Surely you have some happy memory worth sharing.”
Hattie picked up one of the pears and rolled it gently between her palms. “Actually, there was a funny incident. Not amusing to me at the time, but now it makes me smile. I once climbed a pear tree in a nearby orchard along with a little friend of mine. We were about eight or nine, pretending the trees were galleons and the grass below was the sea. We were pirates who chucked unripe pears at each other from our neighboring trees in grand naval warfare.” Her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “We didn’t notice the farmer’s bull grazing in the orchard until it was below us. My friend Susan hit the animal broadside. The bull bellowed in fury and butted my tree over and over, shaking my galleon until I nearly fell from the crow’s nest.
“Susan and I rained pear cannonballs upon him, which only made him angrier. So, there we were, stranded in our respective trees as the afternoon wore on. By evening the bull still ranged below us, so we did not dare climb down.”
“How did you little privateers get out of it?”
“The farmer found us, trapped up there, and scolded us as he tied a rope around the bull’s horns to lead it away. He asked our names so he might tell our families, but Susan and I climbed down and ran off before he could catch us.”
“Did you get into trouble for coming home late?”
“Oh yes. I wasn’t allowed out for weeks, and was forced to attend to my needlework and other lessons. A young lady’s reputation may be damaged even at a young age, my aunt reminded me, though she knew nothing of the bull adventure and was only berating me for coming home late. A willful nature must be nipped in the bud.”
“That is just the sort of scrape my sister and I would get into when we were small,” Guy noted. “She was a fearless leader.”
“Unfortunately, society drills that sort of behavior out of a girl,” Hattie said. “A woman is limited and constrained by the world. Men will never know what that feels like.”
“I beg to differ. Our sex also has expectations placed upon it. One must be strong and suppress emotion until he has forgotten how to feel. A man must shoulder the responsibility of providing for family and never step out of the role in which he has been cast.”
“At least men may choose to remain single without being pitied or scorned. They may take a lover without judgment, and they control their own finances. How many young women like Jennifer Pruett are forced into marriage and have no other recourse, as it is impossible for them to earn a living wage?”
Hattie tossed the pear into the air and caught it in her other hand. “But enough of such serious talk. I’ve told you a story from my youth. You must give me one in exchange.”
“Very well.” Guy relayed the story of how he’d driven off a tutor his father had insisted on one summer when Guy’s marks at school were low.
“Frogs in his bed. Castor oil in his tea. Sugar sprinkled around his
