Page 65 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Decency is dull?” Charles inquired, turning the page of her music.

Kate fumbled a chord. She swiftly corrected herself. Over-corrected, in fact. She corrected her overcorrection just as gamely. “It can be.”

“If that’s the case,” he said, “I’m amazed you can tolerate my company.”

“Oh, you’re not decent,” she replied without thinking. “You’re…”

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “What am I?”

She gave him a roguish smile. “That’s what I’m attempting to discover.”

He didn’t reply, only looked at her, that same amused light softening his stern expression. At some point in the course of his visit, the frown he’d worn during their earlier encounters had begun to fade away, replaced with a look of something resembling affection. Indeed, since arriving at Beasley, Charles Heywood had smiled at her—and with her—with increasing frequency.

Perhaps he was beginning to see how well they suited one another? Perhaps—just perhaps—he was beginning to like her?

Kate glowed with optimism.

When the song came to a close and the dancing ceased, her mother crossed the room to the pianoforte. She was flushed from exertion, her eyes sparkling like twin jewels. In her youth, Mama had suffered an illness to her lungs. She’d been all but an invalid. Even now, after all these years, she could still get breathless from exertion.

“Up you get,” she said to Kate. “It’s my turn to play.”

Papa came to join her. “An excellent idea. Shall I fetch your music, love?”

“Would you, my dearest? I’ve a new waltz in the top drawer of the desk.”

A waltz.

Kate stood from the pianoforte, her heart thumping hard.

Her mother was lending her support. She wouldn’t have suggested a waltz otherwise. Not this early in the evening.

Kate impulsively kissed her cheek. “You’re an angel, Mama.”

Her mother gave her an absent pat before waving her away. “Don’t hover, darling.” She took Kate’s place on the seat in front of the pianoforte. “I have this well in hand.”

Kate met Charles’s eyes. “Will you—” She immediately stopped herself. It was one thing to take the reins on every other occasion, but asking him to waltz was a bridge too far.

Charles appeared to comprehend her predicament. He offered her his hand with all solemnity. “Would you care to dance, my lady?”

Kate smiled broadly as she took it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She followed him out onto the makeshift dance floor, her pulse skipping with excitement.

Jack relinquished Charles’s sister to James. A scorching blush swept up Hannah’s bare throat and into her face as his arm circled her waist. The waltz was still a trifle scandalous. There was no other dance where two people were so close, moving together in a closed hold, all but embracing.

Kate feared she was blushing a little herself when Charles’s arm closed around her. She set her hand on his shoulder. It was solid as stone beneath her fingertips. As solid as all the rest of him. His finely tailored evening clothes did nothing to disguise it. He was a sailor. A man of action. Of unwavering and determined strength.

“I’m out of practice,” he admitted as he swept her into the first turn.

“I’m not,” she said.

He stared down at her steadily. “Shall I let you lead?”

She bit back a laugh. As if he wasn’t already! She may not be steering him in the dance, but it was she who was plotting the course of their journey in every other respect.

For the time being, Charles seemed disposed to let her.

Kate beamed up at him. It took a confident gentleman to allow a lady to helm the ship. Her father often permitted her mother to do so. But Kate had never yet met another gentleman willing to cede his power to a female. After her dismal season in London, she’d begun to doubt such a man existed.