Then she noticed intricate mother-of-pearl inlay on an escritoire and moved closer to study the small desk. A large envelope on its surface caught her attention. T. Rumsfield had sent it. After last night, Hattie had selfishly nearly forgotten any concern for Jennifer Pruett.
She gave not a moment’s thought before removing the report from the envelope.
Rumsfield tersely explained Jennifer’s whereabouts and marital status. In his estimation James had repaired relations with his family and demonstrated responsibility by beginning work with his father. There was no reason for intervention at this point.
Hattie returned the report to the envelope, then froze as she read the title on another folder: Hortense Gladwell. Her heart literally stopped beating, before leaping to life at an erratic pace.
She had told Guy her name during their day in the country, impulsively and obviously foolishly, he had given the information to his private investigator.
For a moment, Hattie was so shocked at this betrayal she felt nothing at all, then rage stormed through her, blazing away every tender feeling she’d had toward Hardy. When they lay together last night, so close, she had imagined she could trust him. He had told her she might. But he’d hired a stranger to pry into her history and assaulted her privacy without a qualm.
She had been absolutely right to stop trusting men, for look what they did when given the chance. Hardy’s disregard for her privacy burned her to the core, leaving only cold ash behind.
Hattie read the facts of her life in the dossier, laid out in black and white with no nuance to explain what living those facts had actually been like. Did she intend to flee the house before Guy arrived in the drawing room? Perhaps, but it was already too late, for his voice sounded behind her.
“Hello, darling. I’m so happy to see you.” He choked on the last word as he noticed the dossier in her hand and her stoic expression. “Oh! I should have…”
“Hidden it away? Quite careless of you to leave it lying about.”
A Gladwell does not make a scene but maintains pride under all conditions, Aunt Elaine reminded her.
“In an envelope on my desk,” Guy pointed out. “Not that that is an excuse. What I meant to say is that I apologize for having Rumsfield investigate you. It was wrong of me.”
“Did you learn everything you wanted to know?”
“Not at all.”
“So, you didn’t read it?” She already knew the answer.
“I did. But they were only facts that didn’t tell me your story.” He approached her slowly as if she were a bird that might flit away. “I should have waited for you to tell me these things. I realize that.”
His placating voice and begging eyes were those of a snake charmer. He mesmerized her into wanting to say, “All is forgiven” and walk into those beseeching hands.
A Gladwell does not compromise nor concede.
“If I hadn’t seen this,” she brandished the evidence, “you would never have told me. What other secrets would you keep? My initial estimate of you was correct. You are not a man to be trusted.”
“I am, I swear to you.”
“Words I’ve heard before.” She tossed the envelope on the desk. “Do you want to know it all before I go?”
“Only if you want to tell me, and I do not want you to go. Please stay. Please sit down, won’t you?”
How easy it would be to yield. But she remained standing as she curtly relayed the details of her affair.
“Sir Henry was a business associate of my Uncle Martin. He stayed at our house one summer. I could talk with him about novels and ideas that held no interest for my family. Admiration grew into attraction and we began an affair. But when we were found out Henry Abernathy left without asking me to marry him. I blamed his exit on my aunt and uncle, to the point of proclaiming my love loudly and dramatically in front of some guests. Word spread of my unspeakable behavior, as well as a rumor I might be with child.”
Hattie did not add that at one point she herself had believed it true. She’d pictured Henry welcoming her and their baby with open arms. Thank heavens, she had not been cursed with pregnancy.
“My aunt said if I intended to carry on so and shame the family, it was best I left the area for a time. I went to London and sought out Abernathy, only to learn he had gone to Italy, probably hoping to escape my shameful begging.
“Unwilling to return home, I assumed a new identity and tried to gain employment. But without credentials, a position as a governess or some other skilled work, was impossible. I couldn’t even get hired in at a factory or for menial labor. I lived on my small savings and continually sent letters to Abnernathy, asking what I had done to turn him away. At long last, he answered, asking me to desist contacting him. He included a very large check.”
Hattie paused for breath. Although the memory was as old as a faded tintype, her abject need and his frigid response were still achingly painful to recall. “I wanted to destroy that check, but am ashamed to say I cashed it and used the funds to start my business.”
Guy had remained unusually still as she relayed her tale. Now he spoke. “You did what you had to do. The shame is Abernathy’s for taking advantage of a young woman. He knew your feelings and allowed you to believe he felt the same.”
“A mistake in judgment I resolved never to make again. I’ve kept that promise to myself all these years—until I met you,” Hattie said flatly.
“I never lied to you about who I am, or about what I feel toward you. I care for you much more than I expected to.” He opened
