Page 38 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Riding out to Satterthwaite Court won’t be possible today,” Lieutenant Heywood said before she could finish. His voice took on an unmistakable note of meaning. “You forget, dearest, that your horse has been lamed.”

Dearest.

In other circumstances, the husbandly endearment might have quickened Kate’s pulse. But not now. Lieutenant Heywood’s tone held no affection in it, only an unspoken warning about compromising situations, potential scandals, and the growing risk to her reputation.

Those risks were real, admittedly, but Kate refused to be dissuaded by them.

“Yes, it is rather a nuisance.” She gave Mr. Arbogast a dazzling smile. “I suppose we shall just have to accompany you in your carriage.”

Chapter Twelve

Twenty minutes later, the three of them were settled snugly inside Mr. Arbogast’s clarence carriage, rattling their way past the quaint little village of Fox Cross and through the filigree iron gates of Satterthwaite Court.

Kate gazed out the carriage window. “Oh, look at it!” she exclaimed as the house came into view. “What a glorious rambling, hodgepodge of a place it is!”

The expansive structure appeared to have been built in several competing styles. Elegant Palladian lines contrasted with Gothic arches and intricate Baroque stonework. It should have resulted in chaos. Instead, the countless architectural additions to the house created an oddly appealing symmetry.

Lieutenant Heywood sat beside her in the carriage, as unmoving as a figure chiseled from granite. He’d been largely silent since they’d left Tiverton, no doubt biding his time until he could administer a stern lecture on her reckless behavior. But though he often gave a fair impression of being so, the man wasn’t made of stone.

“Here.” She drew back in her seat so he could lean across her. “Isn’t it grand?”

As grudgingly obedient as the husband he was pretending to be, Lieutenant Heywood stretched over her to look out at the looming façade of the house. His expression turned thoughtful. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It is.”

“Aye,” Mr. Arbogast agreed. “I’m sorry I can’t allow you the benefit of seeing inside today, but I’m under strict instructions not to trouble the tenants. Mr. Catmull would be none too pleased if he should hear of them being disturbed.”

“We shall have to come back in the spring when the property is vacant,” Kate said.

“Oh no, madam, there’s no need to wait that long,” Mr. Arbogast replied. “The tenants will be leaving for a brief visit to Bristol next month. They’re expected to remain as long as a fortnight. It’s only a small window of opportunity, I realize, but if you’re at liberty, I could show it to you then.”

Lieutenant Heywood sank back in his seat. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Kate folded her hands in her lap. There was no mention of her accompanying him. Nor should there be. She wasn’t really his wife, after all. Even so, she lamented being excluded. This was her adventure now, too. Not just his, but theirs together. She wanted to share it with him.

The carriage slowed as it navigated the curving, tree-lined drive. Rather than continue toward the house, it veered left down a dirt track that led to a stone lodge with a neatly thatched roof. A diminutive gentleman with a heavy brown beard stood in front of the door. The estate’s steward, Kate presumed. Another vehicle was parked nearby: a small gig hitched to a large, raw-boned bay with a fuzzy winter coat.

“There’s Mr. Peartree.” Mr. Arbogast’s brow creased as he caught sight of the gig. “And it appears he has company.” He gathered his briefcase and walking stick as the carriage rolled to a halt. “I must part ways with you here. My visits with Mr. Peartree are often two hours or more.” He opened the door of the carriage. “Merion?” he called to his coachman. “Take Mr. Heywood and his wife round the old oak road.” He glanced back at Kate and the lieutenant. “It circles the better part of the estate and will give you a good overview of the grounds. Once you’ve looked your fill, Merion will drive you back to town.”

“We’re obliged to you,” Lieutenant Heywood said.

Kate added her thanks to the lieutenant’s, ignoring the knot of apprehension forming in her stomach as the solicitor disembarked from the carriage and sent them on their way.

But there was no ignoring the cause of it.

She was alone in a closed carriage with Lieutenant Heywood. It was worse than scandalous. It was ruinous. No respectable young lady ever rode in a closed carriage with a gentleman, not unless he was her husband or other close family member. To do so was to cast one’s reputation to the four winds.

Anything could happen in a closed carriage. A kiss. An embrace. A full-out assignation.

But Lieutenant Heywood appeared in no mind to seduce her. The moment the carriage rolled off, he rose from his place beside Kate and moved to the seat opposite. His jaw was clenched, his mouth pressed into a forbidding line.

Kate knew that look. It was the look of a man about to administer a thorough—and very possibly well-deserved⁠—scolding.

She had no interest in receiving one.

“You’re familiar with this place?” she asked before he could begin. “Satterthwaite Court? You seemed to recognize the name of it.”

The lieutenant lapsed into scowling silence. He was no doubt deciding whether to soldier on with his planned lecture or to allow her to divert him down another, more desirable, path.

Fortunately for Kate, he chose the latter.