Hattie smiled at his compliment. “A man’s opinion. You don’t know how catty some women can be.”
“I definitely do. I’ve been friends with the cattiest, so I speak with authority.” He paused. “If it would help, I’ll have my friend Lady Cromwell use her considerable influence to keep you in demand.”
Hattie’s smile dimmed and Guy wished he hadn’t mentioned the name. “The woman with whom you just severed relations. I can’t imagine she’d be inclined to do you a favor.”
He shrugged. “We parted on friendly terms. Quite possible to do when one doesn’t care too deeply.”
“I see,” her expression remained neutral. “Well, thank you for your support, which I truly appreciate. But I must return to the shop. I’ve been gone all morning.”
“You haven’t had tea yet. Mrs. Hallifax’s jam biscuits are not to be missed,” he protested. “Ah, here comes Simmons, so you can’t leave just yet.”
Thank God for that tea cart, propelled by morose, never smiling Simmons.
Guy offered his guest the light repast Mrs. Hallifax had sent up. More of a lunch than tea, actually. Plied with pâté sandwiches and other delicacies, Hattie stayed, but her appetite did not match yesterday’s hunger.
Guy broached the subject hanging in the air between them. “Did my mention of Lady Cromwell distress you?”
“Why should it?”
“I hope you will believe me when I tell you the feelings I have for you are not the same.” What a lie it sounded like even as he said it. She would assume he reassured all potential lovers of this. Only this time, it was absolutely true. “Since I met you, I feel as if a change has taken place in me. I view things as if I finally put on a much-needed pair of spectacles.”
She stared at the sandwich from which she’d taken a small bite. “A pretty sentiment.”
“And a true one,” he insisted. “Only time will prove to you I am quite serious and capable of offering more than fly-by-night affection. I care for you rather deeply even though we have only just become acquainted. The question is, do you hold a similar fondness for me?”
“You are quite aware that I do,” she said quietly.
It was not a resounding hallelujah, but he would happily accept it. “Good. That is all I need to hear in order to press on.” He cleared his throat. “Now, do taste one of Mrs. Hallifax’s jam biscuits. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He offered her the platter and Hattie selected one, took a bite and gave an approving hum of appreciation. After placing it on her plate, she delicately licked jam from the tip of a finger. Guy’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of her pink tongue darting out.
“I understand you must leave soon, but may I see you later today?” As further enticement, he added, “Perhaps Rumsfield will quickly ascertain Miss Pruett’s whereabouts. He seems to have a psychic gift for sniffing out information. I could stop by your shop either way.”
“Or perhaps…” She paused. “It might be better if I came here. The fewer times you visit me, the better, particularly after hours.”
“Perfect! Come for a late supper. If I learn anything sooner, I’ll send a note.”
Hattie set down her plate and rose. “Now, I really must go. Thank you for the repast and your aid in the Pruett matter.”
Guy stood and crossed to her in a stride. “I’m happy to help.”
She tilted her head to look up at him. “You expressed your feelings toward me very eloquently. If I seemed tepid in my response, I want you to know that I harbor similar emotions. But romantic notions led me astray in the past. It is not easy for me to trust in them again.”
He took her hands and looked deep into her eyes. “You may trust me, Harriet—or Hortense. I promise you I will not betray that trust.”
She studied his face with a slight frown, then she nodded. “I believe you. But please, Guy…”
“Yes?” His heart beat faster at the sound of his name on her lips. He was ready to pledge any oath, scale any mountain, fight any dragon.
“Never call me Hortense. It is a truly terrible name.” She grinned and her eyes twinkled.
“A promise easily kept.” He kissed her hands before letting them go.
He saw Hattie to the door personally, shooing away Simmons when he came to the foyer to do his duty. After wishing her goodbye with a chaste but very sweet kiss, Guy closed the door then pumped a fist and jigged in joy like a boy after a hard-won game of tug-o-war. Hattie liked him, but more than that, she trusted him.
He would not let her down.
He went to the study to place a telephone call to Rumsfield, describing the latest development in the Pruett matter. “Her parents have someone looking for her, but you are better equipped to actually find the couple. Let me know as soon as you do.”
“I’ll add it to your bill,” Rumsfield shouted through the telephone line, then muttered, “Hate this damned contraption.”
“Thank you. You’re a wonder. Scotland Yard should never have allowed you to retire.”
“On that other matter. Couldn’t find a thing about a Harriet Glover. Trail went cold beyond five years ago when she bought the lease on that shop. No record of a marriage.”
“Yes, I know, and I’ve learned her true name is, or was, Hortense Gladwell.”
“Mmph,” he grunted acknowledgement. “Want me to keep looking into her?”
“No.”
Guy hesitated. If he knew what scandal Hattie had overcome and more about her background, he would understand how to help her to trust again. He would not make any mistakes to frighten her off. He would be better than the man who’d broken her poor young heart.
“Or maybe—yes. Find out what you can and send the information as soon as possible.”
“Yup.” Rumsfield rang off without a
