Standing at the wash tub, her mind drifted into fantasies of his hands caressing her flesh and his mouth pressed against the crook of her neck, his body gliding over hers, and his…appendage probing her deeply. She pressed her thighs together to relieve the ache between her legs.
A knock on the side door startled her, so she dropped the sodden skirt into the soapy water with a splash. She fanned her overheated face as she went to receive Mrs. Pruett’s reply from the messenger.
There is no urgency as I no longer require the item. You need not contact me again. Nor should you anticipate my continued patronage of your shop. I have found a milliner who suits me better. I plan to recommend her services to all of my friends.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Howard Pruett
Hattie’s stomach dropped and air left her lungs as if from a blow to the chest. Her nagging fear of losing her clientele was imminent. It was possible for one angry client to spread slander sufficient to destroy her business. What had happened to the sad woman who confided her worries to Hattie? Gladys Pruett probably wished that display of emotion had never occurred, since she’d chosen to comply with her husband’s wishes. Poor Jennifer would be forced into a marriage with an abusive man who would drain her dowry then hound her family for more money. Howard Pruett might very well refuse to aid Bellamy, leaving his daughter to the fate he had driven her to.
That could not happen! Hattie could not stand by without at least trying to stop it. Tomorrow, she would go to the Pruetts’ without invitation and demand an audience.
Her decision and the ominous wording of the note made for a restless night.
In a dream, she hurtled down the road on her new bicycle, driven by the wind and heedlessly joyful. Suddenly she realized the machine had no brakes and she could not stop as a large tree loomed ahead.
Hattie awoke from the nightmare gasping for breath, heart pounding. It was not difficult to see the connection between her dream of freedom and the trouble it might bring down upon her. Eagle-eyed gossips waited to judge any woman’s virtue. They seemed to delight in skewering members of their own sex. Hattie had been playing with fire both in championing Miss Pruett and in associating with Guy. Was he really worth the danger to her business—and to her heart?
Aunt Elaine weighed in on the topic with pursed mouth and a flatly delivered, “No!”
The following morning, Hattie left the shop in Rose’s competent hands after delivering the latest news concerning the Pruetts. “I shan’t be gone long.”
“Of course you must make this visit. I pray Mrs. Pruett will listen to what you have to say. Don’t worry about her turning business away from the millinery. I don’t believe she could if she tried. Far more elevated ladies adore your hats and would not give a fig for what Prune-faced Pruett has to say.” Rose snapped her fingers to show how little they would care. “Good luck. I will be mentally sending you my support.”
When Hattie arrived at her destination, the staff welcomed her into the servants’ area once more. The same maid was sent to announce her arrival to the lady of the house.
“Tell her it is a matter of great import or I would not have bothered her at home.”
The cook, who sat at the servants’ dining table today, examining recipes, looked up with interest. “What could be of such great import about a hat?”
“Color must be matched to perfection or the entire effect of an ensemble will be ruined. Mrs. Pruett will know to what I am referring.”
The maid returned with curious eyes and a frown. “Mrs. Pruett seems quite displeased, but said I might bring you to her.”
As the led Hattie through the house, the girl warned, “Missus has one of her headaches today. Best state your business briefly.”
Hattie feared her news would only compound the headache. She steadied her nerves and entered Gladys Pruett’s sitting room once more.
The windows were shaded and the lady of the house reclined on her chaise once more. She held a compress to her forehead and regarded Hattie with shadowed eyes. “What could you possibly want now? I told you I am not interested in anything you have to say.” Her slow manner suggested alcohol or perhaps laudanum made her eyes so vacant.
“I have news for you about Lord Bellamy. It has come to my attention the man is nearly destitute,” Hattie presented the fact briskly before she could be ejected. “A very reliable and high-placed client mentioned this. I would not normally tell anything shared in confidence, but I thought you had a right to know Bellamy’s dismal financial circumstances.”
She would have liked to continue on about Bellamy’s purported abusive treatment of women, but it was difficult to broach such an intimate subject with Mrs. Pruett. Perhaps the first bit of news would be sufficient.
Mrs. Pruett began to laugh, an eerie, high-pitched sound that made Hattie’s skin prickle. “It no longer matters. Bellamy’s suit has been withdrawn. No doubt you had a part in influencing our daughter toward rebellion.”
“What has happened?”
“She’s run off!” Gladys Pruett held up a note wadded along with her sodden handkerchief. “My daughter has eloped with a stranger, some low-class fellow without name, property or income. She speaks of living off love and being content working as a charwoman if that is what love requires. Romantic twaddle from those novels I foolishly allowed her to read.”
Hattie swallowed. If she had spoken days earlier after learning James had vacated his boarding house, she might
