Page 21 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

She sat across from him, dressed in a carriage gown of dusky blue glacé silk and a black velvet cloak. Her hair had been artfully arranged, parted at the center and smoothed back into an elegant chignon at her nape. She looked rather well, or so she’d thought when she checked her reflection in the glass before departing Beasley Park two hours ago.

It had been a long journey, made as comfortably and expeditiously as possible. The Earl of Allendale’s black-lacquered carriage, with the family crest gilded on the door, was extraordinarily well sprung.

“Don’t work yourself up into a state,” she said to her brother. “I’m not a complete stranger to the Heywoods. We simply haven’t been properly introduced, that’s all.”

“But you are acquainted with them?”

She gave a dismissive shrug. “A passing acquaintance.” It was mainly true. She had passed Lieutenant Heywood on the street. “Anyway, we’re in the country now, not London. We needn’t stand on ceremony.”

“Kate…” Jack groaned. “If we’ve come all this way only to make arses of ourselves…”

The carriage came to a halt in front of the stone steps that flanked the entrance.

“We might have done,” she conceded as the footman opened the carriage door. “But it’s too late to turn back now.”

Jack jumped out first, offering his hand to assist Kate down. His brows were set in a furious line.

He was still angry about losing that race to her. And now, even angrier to discover that the Heywoods were, effectively, unknown to them.

Kate didn’t regard his foul temper. She was here, wasn’t she? That was all that mattered. Her hand on Jack’s arm, she ascended the stone steps to the arched entrance of the house.

Jack rapped twice on the door, imbuing all his ire into the summons. The loud thump-thump echoed in the stillness of the cold January morning. “We can’t stay above half an hour,” he muttered. “There’ll already be hell to pay when we return.”

She smoothed her skirts. Mama, Papa, and James believed she and Jack were joining acquaintances of theirs for an outing to Dunster Castle. A flimsy lie that could easily be disproven. Kate was disappointed she hadn’t thought of a better one. But there were few other ways to explain a half day’s absence from home at this time of year.

“It will be worth it,” she said, as much to herself as to her brother.

Jack’s brows dipped into a scowl. He raised his fist to knock again. The door was opened before he could do so.

A frowning manservant stood on the threshold. He glanced first at them, then at the crest on the carriage, and back again. “May I help you, sir?”

Jack removed his hat. “Mr. Beresford and Lady Katherine Beresford to see—”

“Lieutenant Heywood,” Kate said.

Jack’s gaze shot to her face. He had been aggravated before. Now, he was positively appalled. “Lieutenant Heywood?”

She affected an innocent expression. “Is he at home?” she asked the butler.

“Yes, my lady.” The man bowed to them before stepping back to admit them into the house. “This way, if you please.”

Kate followed him up the curving marble staircase.

The inside of Heywood House was fashioned in the same classical style as its stately Palladian exterior. There were molded ceilings with ornamented plasterwork and white-paneled walls spaced with Ionic pilasters. Enormous landscape paintings covered every available surface; scenes of dogs, horses, and the pristine English countryside. Along with the thick Aubusson carpets and sumptuous furnishings of walnut and mahogany, they brought a richness to the house that spoke less of cold elegance than of warmth and familial affection.

Kate took it all in with avid curiosity as the butler led her to the drawing room.

Jack lagged behind them, his irritation with her radiating off of him in waves. It was one thing to maneuver him into making an unsolicited call on strangers, but to trick him into accompanying her to call on a gentleman—well. That was something else entirely.

Kate couldn’t be sorry for the deception. She’d been eagerly anticipating her next meeting with the handsome Lieutenant Heywood ever since she’d first encountered him in Bond Street. With luck, he’d be expecting her. She had, after all, sent him the crocheted dog muzzle.

It had been a stroke of inspiration.

The pattern had appeared, rather auspiciously, in last month’s edition of the Lady’s Museum and Domestic Magazine. Kate had found it quite by chance; a darling little design, displayed on an illustration of a lady’s lapdog. The instant she’d beheld it, she’d known it would be just the thing to get the lieutenant’s attention.

What gentleman could fail to be intrigued by such a humorous gift? Unless he was a simpleton, he’d easily deduce who it was from. It was sure to keep her in his thoughts until she could manage a visit.

That had been the plan anyway.