Page 10 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Of course, you may,” Charles handed the dog to his sister. “He’s yours.”

“Mine?” Hannah gathered the small dog up in her arms. Her voice softened to a soothing murmur. “Poor dear. You’re so painfully thin. You must be starving.” She glanced at Charles. “Where did you find him?”

Charles briefly crouched to pet the dogs clamoring for his attention. He acknowledged them in turn, scratching ears and rubbing backs and shoulders, murmuring their names. “How have you been, Ignatius? And you, Twig? Easy, Flurry. Don’t lick me to death.” He cast a look at his sister. “He was chasing carriages in Bond Street. He’s also exhibited a fondness for attacking ladies’ skirts.”

An image of the blue-eyed young lady who had fallen victim to the dog’s temporary foolishness sprang, unbidden, into Charles’s brain.

Kate.

His blood warmed at the thought of her.

She’d been so bold. So singular. Any normal lady would have succumbed to hysterics at being bitten by a street dog. Kate, however, had taken the insult in stride.

A rarity.

But there was no point in dwelling on her finer qualities. He and Kate—whoever she was—weren’t likely to meet again.

“That one’s Tippo,” Hannah said, introducing Charles to the pug. “And this is Evangeline.” She urged the spaniel to hop forward for her brother to pet. “She’s shy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tippo,” Charles said. “And you, Evangeline.” He stroked the two new dogs gently on their heads, careful not to be too familiar just yet. Many of the dogs at Heywood House had started their lives in less-than-ideal circumstances. It often took time for them to trust new people.

“What do you call him?” Hannah asked, admiring her new puppy.

Charles stood, brushing the dog hair from his trousers as his parents descended the steps to join them. “I haven’t named him yet. I’ll leave that to you.” He leaned down to drop a kiss on his sister’s head. “I’ve missed you, little one.”

Hannah hadn’t only grown in height since he’d seen her last. She’d matured in countless other ways. Her letters had attested as much. She’d written frequently, telling him about her studies, her support for a newly formed organization devoted to the prevention of cruelty to animals, and how her love of animals had prompted her to adopt a vegetarian diet.

“You shouldn’t have gone back to sea after your last visit,” she said. “Not with a war brewing. Though Papa says I must try to understand. Something about your having to prove yourself.”

Charles smiled. He’d long ceased being surprised by his father’s perception. “Something like that.”

“You’ve brought us another dog?” Arthur said. “Good God.” His gruff tone was belied by the warmth in his eyes as he beheld his son. He pulled him into a hard embrace—brief but heartfelt—just as he’d often done when Charles was small. “Is this how you make amends?”

A lump formed in Charles’s throat. “It’s a start.”

“A poor one, given what’s past.”

“I’m aware.”

Arthur’s gaze held a hint of steel. “You and I are due for a long talk, lad.”

“I’m aware of that as well,” Charles said.

His mother came to him next. She hugged him fiercely. “My darling, how I’ve longed to see your face!”

Charles enfolded her in his arms, holding her tight. There was a different kind of strength in his mother’s embrace. One born of grace and tenderness.

She was the gentlest lady he’d ever known. Wherever he’d gone in life, however far he’d roamed, her kindness and compassion had been his lodestar.

“Do we have you a month this time?” she asked. “Or dare I hope you’ve been given longer?”

“A bit longer.” Charles wasn’t yet ready to tell them the truth. Not here on the front steps, only seconds after his arrival.

“Thank heaven,” she said. “And you won’t cut it short like last time?”

He inwardly winced at his mother’s delicate reprimand. After arguing with his father during his last visit, Charles had departed Somersetshire with two weeks of his leave still remaining. His mother and sister had wept when he’d left.

“I’m sorry about what happened then,” he said, his words for her ears alone. “I never meant to cause you pain.”