Hattie Glover’s Millinery

we weren’t allowed, climbed trees too high, dragged home stray animals we weren’t supposed to keep, the sorts of things young children get up to behind Nanny’s back. But Bettina would never have let me go truly wrong. Anyway, no doubt I’ve painted her in my mind with a golden glow. In another year or so, I imagine we would not have had time for each other.”
“So she remains perfect forever,” Hattie said. “I understand. I used to dream about what my parents would have been like had they not been taken by influenza when I was but two years of age. How wonderful our life together would have been. Not that my aunt and uncle were unkind, but they weren’t my very own. They were old to suddenly have an orphan thrust upon them. I’m quite certain I was an inconvenience.”
She made a small grunt of impatience and shielded her face with the veil again. “I can’t imagine what’s making me reminisce like this. It is not my customary manner, I can assure you.”
“Perhaps it’s the children at play jogging loose old memories. Enough of them and their jolly kite-flying ways making us so melancholy! May I buy you a raspberry ice?” He indicated a handcart under a striped awning.
“Lemon ice would be lovely. Thank you.”
She was warming to him, Guy thought as he purchased two paper dishes of flavored ice shavings. It had been worth treading the treacherous path of memories to achieve this goal. Who knew that honesty could be as successful as flirtation in setting a woman at ease? Apparently, Bettina knew and had mentioned it to him through his conscience. Thank you, sister.
He presented Hattie with her yellow ice and took a small nibble of his raspberry one to avoid a stabbing headache. It was little more than sugar-water with only the slightest suggestion of fruit flavoring but tasted like heaven on this increasingly hot day.
Guy spread his handkerchief on a park bench so Hattie wouldn’t stain her frock, and they sat together watching a little boy intent on chucking stones at a bird trilling away in a tree above him. Since the bird was far beyond his ability to throw, there was little chance of him hitting it. But eventually, Nanny noticed what her charge was up to and scolded him as she led him away.
“What do you do, Mr. Hardy?” Hattie asked presently.
“You mean for a living?”
She hesitated with the tip of her tongue just touching the lemon ice. God, but he wanted to be that ice. “For a living or as a pastime.”
He hesitated to say Nothing but loaf, since I inherited a fortune and don’t actually need to work.
“I find ways to occupy myself,” he replied vaguely. “My father wanted me in one of his offices, but I couldn’t abide the idea of days spent indoors pouring over contracts or sitting in boardrooms.”
“What is your father’s business?”
“Lowell Enterprises, a conglomeration of various industries and businesses which carries on with little oversight from me. My business manager keeps me apprised of all my holdings.”
“But you take no part in running it, so how do you spend your days?”
There was the question. Idling and entertaining myself did not seem a suitable response. Why did Hattie choose now to take her time delicately consuming her lemon ice? This would be the perfect moment for her to insist on returning to work. How could Guy make himself sound like less of a lazy do-nothing than he was?
“I spend time at my clubs and with my friends. There’s always some activity to do, boxing, racing, rowing, traveling, card playing, balls and soirees…” He pinpointed the precise moment Hattie realized he was precisely the jaded wastrel she’d pegged him to be. He must drive that disappointed look from her eyes.
“Of course, there are charities where I offer my aid,” he added. “So important to give to services that help those in need.”
“Really? What charities do you support?” She leaned forward as if interested and not doubting his word.
“Oh. Several. I don’t like to brag about my involvement.” He purposely dropped his raspberry ice so he could exclaim in frustration, pick it up off the grass, and throw it away.
Hattie joined him at the bin, tossing her empty paper cup to land beside his. “I really must return to work. I’ll admit this was a welcome break in my day.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Glover. I’ll walk you back.” He raised both palms before she could protest. “Stopping at a distance from your shop so none of your customers will see you escorted by a man. I truly understand the risk to your reputation and how judgmental society ladies can be. I would not do anything to harm you or your business.”
His proclamation earned him a sweet smile. “Thank you, Mr. Hardy.”
“Thank you for walking with me. I will see you tomorrow when I pick up my purchase. Perhaps then you might take lunch with me.”
“We shall see.” But from the way she dipped her head to hide another smile, Guy thought the answer might be “yes.”
They parted ways at the edge of the park. Guy watched her cross the street and realized it was the first time he’d paid attention to her figure or the way her body moved. In the past, he’d been mostly attracted to a woman’s physical attributes that naturally awakened his desire. He’d always chosen partners well-versed in having affairs since he had no wish to leave a trail of broken-hearted misses in his wake.
But Hattie Glover provoked a new and different sensation in him, something beyond mere sexual magnetism. There was that, of course, but he also admired her intelligence, business acumen, and ethical stance, attributes that made him keenly aware of his own lack of convictions.
The fact that Hattie Glover was beautiful was mere icing on the cake. It was greedy of him and he certainly didn’t deserve it, but he’d like a thick slice. Hell, why not the entire cake?
*
Hattie closed the