Page 56 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Please do.” Hannah was seated in front of the dressing table mirror as Yvette put the finishing touches on her coiffure.

The lady’s maid had arranged Hannah’s auburn tresses in a heavy, interwoven roll at her nape, securing it with a single, artfully twisted plait. The elegant simplicity of it was a perfect complement to Hannah’s understated gray silk dress.

“I brought this for you to wear this evening.” Kate crossed the room to the gauze-draped dressing table, a silver filigree hair comb displayed in the palm of her hand.

She’d selected the ornament with care from the many bits and baubles in her collection. Unlike the expensive jewels she’d been given by her parents, the little silver comb was something Kate had bought with her own pin money. It was wrought in the delicate shape of a butterfly.

“It will glitter nicely in your hair,” she said.

Hannah’s face lit up. “Oh! It’s lovely.”

Kate glanced at Yvette. “If you’ve finished?”

“Oui mademoiselle,” Yvette replied.

“Thank you, Yvette,” Kate said. “You may go.”

Yvette quietly withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

“It was kind of you to send her to me,” Hannah said. “I didn’t imagine I’d need a maid for so short a visit. I’m accustomed to looking after myself at home.”

“As am I.” Kate anchored the comb into Hannah’s hair. “But one can still appreciate the little luxuries of life.” She smiled. “There. What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Consider it my gift to you.”

Hannah’s eyes went wide. “You’re too kind. But I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense. Now I’ve seen how well it suits you, I’m persuaded it was destined to be yours.” Kate stepped back to examine the full effect of Hannah’s toilette. “How well you look with your hair in that style! Yvette has such a deft hand. When you go to London for the season, you must hire a French maid of your own to look after you. They’re known to be the best.”

Hannah’s gaze slid away from Kate’s in the mirror. “I’m not going to London.” She stood from her chair. “I fear it must be Bath for me.”

Kate gently touched Hannah’s arm. “No! You can’t mean it.”

“I do.”

“But why?” Kate led Hannah to the window seat. It was lined with oversized feather cushions. Kate sat, drawing Hannah down beside her. “It’s not because of the expense?”

“No, not that.”

“What, then?”

“I simply don’t have the temperament for London.” Hannah held up a hand, anticipating Kate’s objections. “No, no. I know it to be true. Indeed, I would prefer Bath. It’s still daunting, but I believe I can manage my shyness better there.”

Kate was sensitive to Hannah’s shyness, but she didn’t entirely understand the cause of it. “What have you to be shy about? You’re from an excellent family. You’re kind and well-spoken. And you’re lovely. To be sure, when you first arrived, my brothers couldn’t stop staring at you.”

Hannah blushed mightily. “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Kate said. “I share it in the hope that you might be tempted to reveal something of your own brother’s feelings.”

“Charles?” Hannah’s mouth lifted in a bemused smile. “I’d have thought his feelings were evident. He’s here, after all.”

“Mere politeness,” Kate said dismissively.

“Not Charles. He’s civil, yes, but he’s never before done something merely to be polite. Not so long as I’ve known him.” Hannah paused. “Of course, he has been away a good many years. I suppose he may have changed.”

“How many years has it been since last you saw him?”