Page 54 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“You must question them, of course.”

“I intend to,” Charles said. “Starting with Abigail. She and her husband were on good terms with my parents for a time. I expect I’ll have better luck where she’s concerned.”

“Do they live in the West Country?” Kate was already imagining herself accompanying Charles on his fact-finding mission.

“They’re in London,” he said. “I wrote to her there a few days ago.”

Kate couldn’t hide her disappointment. “You wrote to her,” she repeated. “And that’s all?

Charles leaned his back against the side of the loose box. He folded his arms. “What else would you have me do, Kate?”

She warmed a little at his use of her name. It was a reminder that they were friends—or something very like it. “You must go to London yourself. You can interview Abigail and Mr. Catmull and—”

“I’ve no desire to return to London.”

“Why not? I’ll be there next month.”

He gave her one of his unreadable looks. “At this time of year? Whatever for?”

“The Dowager Duchess of Chesham is having a ball. Her birthday falls on Valentine’s Day. She always celebrates in lavish style. She’s turning sixty this year, so the ball will be grander than ever. There have been whispers that the Queen and Prince Albert might come.”

“And you’ve been invited?”

“Through the auspices of my parents’ friends, Viscount and Lady Mattingly. It’s an opportunity I won’t be permitted to miss. Afterward…I’m to remain in London for a time.”

“For the season,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

“Because you must find a husband.”

“Ostensibly, yes. But that’s neither here nor there. The fact is, I’ll be in London. If you were to come, we could investigate the mystery together.”

“On no account,” he said. “This isn’t a game we’re playing. And a visit to London is out of the question. I’ve only just returned to Somersetshire. I can’t be leaving again on some fool’s errand.”

Her spirits flagged. She quickly rallied. “I’ll be there, in any event. I could ask Mr. Catmull—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he replied with sudden sharpness. “I mean it, Kate.”

“You’d rather let the matter drop?”

“I haven’t let it drop. I went to Tiverton. I’ve consulted with my solicitor. If all goes well, I shall soon possess the deed to Satterthwaite Court. The rest scarcely matters in comparison.”

Kate couldn’t conceal her frustration. “You would buy the estate and set up house, simply ignoring the fact that it all started with a sinister letter that made references to grievous wrongs and personal peril?”

“I’m hardly ignoring it. I’ve written to Abigail, haven’t I?”

“You’ve written to her. It isn’t the same as chasing down the mystery in person. Have you no sense of—” She broke off, an alarming thought occurring to her. “Just why are you buying the house? Is it purely out of sentiment?”

“Not purely, no,” he said. “I’d intended to purchase a property of my own now I’m back in England. It may as well be this one.”

A knot of inexpressible emotion twisted in her breast. Had she misread him? Misunderstood his meaning when he’d helped her into the coach in Tiverton?

She recalled the things he’d said. The way he’d taken her hand.

No, she couldn’t have been wrong. She couldn’t have.

“You’ve never mentioned settling down before,” she said. It was practically an accusation.