Page 31 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

Her mother’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Indeed, I did not.”

“Then why must I sit still and wait for the gentleman I fancy to come to me? Why must I settle for prosing old windbags, lecherous lords, or devious snakes like Mr. Catmull? Why can’t I go after someone I like? I’m no less capable of choosing my future partner than a man. More capable, for I know what sort of person I might happily tolerate for the next forty or more years.”

“You do like this Lieutenant Heywood, then?”

Kate turned her attention to the bleak winter landscape ahead. The setting sun kissed the curves of the barren hills, streaking the empty brown fields in cold shadow. “It isn’t at all what you think. I’m not enamored of him. I’m only intrigued. It amuses me to tease him a little. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Take care,” Mama warned. “Country gentlemen aren’t as sophisticated about flirtation as London gentlemen are. They’re far more likely to be offended by such things.”

“I don’t seek to give offense.”

“Your intentions matter little among those who don’t know you.”

Kate frowned. She didn’t like to imagine Lieutenant Heywood thinking ill of her.

But he already had, hadn’t he?

He’d accused her of writing that strange note. Of daring to mention his mother—a grievous sin by any measure. One didn’t involve a man’s mother or sisters in a jest. It simply wasn’t done. Kate would never—

But he hadn’t known that.

Her mother was right. The lieutenant knew nothing about Kate’s motives or her character. Nothing except that she’d had the temerity to send him a humorous gift and to seek him out at his parents’ home uninvited.

“No, he doesn’t know me,” Kate said. “Which is why the two of us must become better acquainted.”

Her mother considered the matter. “If you’re resolved on it, I suppose your father and I could invite the Heywoods to dine.”

“I already have,” Kate replied promptly.

Mama took the pronouncement in stride. “Naturally you have. When might we expect them?”

“I’ve asked them to join us next week.” Kate urged Ember into a trot. “Once the lieutenant has dined and danced with me, I’m confident he’ll recognize my finer points.”

Her mother easily kept pace on her ebony mare. “After which you’ll grow bored of him just as you have the others.”

Kate gave an exaggerated wince. “Really, Mama. You’re too cruel.”

“It’s not I who can be cruel. You’re too careless with gentlemen’s hearts, my dear.”

Kate gave a short laugh. “I’m not. I’ve never had anyone’s heart. In truth…” She hesitated a fraction of a second, hating to give voice to the niggling suspicion. “I sometimes think gentlemen don’t like me at all.”

“Nonsense. You’re enormously likable.”

“You wouldn’t know that by what happened in London. I met no one who could tolerate me as I am.”

“That’s not what your Aunt Jane said in her letters. She claims a multitude of gentlemen called on you in Duke Street.”

“Oh yes, they paid court handsomely enough. They thought me pretty. They also thought me strident, overbold, and excessively opinionated.” As they approached the top of the hill, Kate brought Ember back down to a walk. “I know for a fact my personality grated on them.”

Mama slowed her mare. Her expression was troubled. “How can you know?”

“One hears things. And one has eyes enough to see them.” Kate circled Ember back to her mother. The wind whipped at her net veil. “I’m tired of playing by society’s rules. They weren’t designed for a lady’s happiness.”

“No,” Mama said. “But we must all play by the rules at some time or other. To flout them occasionally may be forgiven, but to disregard them entirely—”

“You would have done.”

“It was a different time. And I wasn’t the daughter of an earl, merely the wayward only child of a bombastic country squire.”