Page 50 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

Kate hadn’t yet addressed him personally. Indeed, she’d scarcely looked at him. But all of that changed the instant she’d installed Hannah in her lavishly appointed bedchamber. No sooner had the door clicked shut than Kate turned on Charles with an air of breathless impatience.

“I wish to speak with you,” she said.

He lifted his brows. They stood in the center of the hall. Maidservants and footmen bustled past, not so engaged in their duties that they couldn’t spare a curious glance at their young mistress and her guest.

“Not here,” Kate said. “In private.” She led him farther down the thickly carpeted hall. “Will you walk down to the stables with me?”

“When?” he asked.

“In ten minutes’ time. Unless…” She gave him an uncertain glance as they approached the end of the corridor. “Do you need longer to refresh yourself?”

“Ten minutes will suffice.”

“Excellent.” She came to a halt in front of a wood-paneled door. “This is your room. I put you close to your sister.”

And close to you, he nearly said.

To be sure, his bedchamber was located only a few doors from hers. It was a fact that would no doubt be plaguing him this evening as he attempted to find sleep in his bed.

“Will she be all right if we slip away awhile?” Kate asked.

“I’ll speak with her,” Charles replied.

“Very well,” Kate said, satisfied. “I shall meet you in the downstairs hall in ten minutes.” With that, she turned and strode away.

Charles stared after.

He hadn’t seen her in a week. Not since the afternoon they’d parted in Gold Street. But he’d thought of her every day since.

And not only with irritation.

He’d imagined her face. Her voice. The lively intelligence in her eyes and the bold lilt in her smile. Those imaginings had been painfully vivid. And yet …

They paled in comparison to reality.

A troubled frown worked across his brow as he entered his room. He wondered, not for the first time, what the devil he was getting himself into.

Chapter Sixteen

Precisely seven minutes later, sturdy boots on her feet and a woolen mantle over her gown, Kate descended the stairs to the marble-tiled entry hall. But it wasn’t the tall, dark, and serious ex-naval lieutenant who awaited her there. It was her equally sober-minded brother, James.

He stood at the door, clad in his black winter overcoat, his hat in hand. His face was set with grim resolve.

“You’re not looking for me?” she asked as she stepped down into the hall.

“I’m not looking for anyone. I’m going out.” He opened the front door. There were no servants about to open it for him. Not that James would have insisted upon it. For all his pompous respectability, he was no spoiled aristocrat.

The wind whistled into the house, bringing with it a flurry of snow.

“Now?” Kate asked in chagrin. “But our guests have just arrived!”

James cast a sardonic glance over her own heavy mantle. “Which is why you’re going…where?”

“For a walk with Lieutenant Heywood.”

James’s gaze sharpened. “And his sister?”

“What about his sister?”