Page 30 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

Catching up her skirts, Kate raced up the stairs to change.

Not fifteen minutes later, mounted on her bay warmblood gelding, Ember, Kate rode alongside her mother away from the Beasley Park stables.

“Miss Colfax called this morning, inquiring whether you’d like to join her for luncheon at the vicarage,” Mama said, deftly maneuvering her elegant black mare through the stable yard gate. “Imagine my surprise to learn you weren’t already with her, halfway to Dunster Castle.”

Kate’s gloved fingers fidgeted on her reins. She might have known she’d be caught out on so feeble a story. Though really, how was she to guess the vicar’s daughter would come calling? “I’m sorry I lied.”

“It’s not only the lie. Though that’s vexing enough. It’s the fact that no one knew where you’d gone. Hours I’ve waited, imagining every grim accident that might have befallen you. Hours of having to restrain your father from going to look for you—”

“I was with Jack.”

“Worse and worse! As if being chaperoned by your brother is any excuse for what you’ve done. Upon my word, Katherine. He gets in more scrapes than you do!”

Kate’s stomach sank like a stone. Mama never used her full name unless Kate was thoroughly in her black books. “We didn’t get into a scrape. We only paid a call on someone. They live a distance away, near the village of Heycombe. That’s why we’ve been gone so long.”

“A call on whom?”

“The Heywood family,” Kate said. “Captain Heywood is the son of the Earl of Gordon.”

Mama shot Kate a look of alarm. “The Earl of Gordon is ancient. His son must surely be older than your father. What business had you with him?”

“Not with him. With his…” Kate was tempted to lie and say she’d gone to visit Miss Heywood. But Mama was no fool. “Captain Heywood has a son,” she admitted. “A naval lieutenant, recently returned from abroad. I met him briefly in London.”

Her mother’s brows rose higher. “I see.” She slowed her horse. “I understood from your Aunt Jane that you’d met no gentlemen you liked during the season. Quite the opposite.”

“I didn’t say I liked him. And we didn’t meet. Not formally. It was more of an accidental encounter.” Kate gave her mother an abridged version of the events in Bond Street. “Was that not heroic?” she asked when she’d finished. “To rescue a poor wretched street dog in that manner? No other gentleman of my acquaintance would have done so.”

“It’s a sort of heroism, certainly,” Mama allowed. “But my dear, when it comes to marriage, you must set the bar higher than that.”

“I’m not interested in marrying the lieutenant.”

“What, then?”

Kate shrugged. “I find him interesting, that’s all.”

“Stern silent types often are,” Mama said. “Do you know why?”

“I suppose it’s because their silence is more tolerable than empty compliments and sad attempts at flirtation.”

“No, dearest. It’s because a young lady’s imagination fills in that silence with all manner of romantic daydreams. Those daydreams result in her crediting that gentleman with a depth of feeling he doesn’t possess.”

“I haven’t—”

“You encountered this Lieutenant Heywood on your last day in London when you were feeling particularly discouraged about your matrimonial prospects.”

“I wasn’t—”

“And then he appeared: handsome, silent, and inscrutable.”

“Heroic,” Kate reminded her.

“Vaguely heroic,” Mama conceded. “The ideal masculine canvas on which to paint your idea of a perfect gentlemen. It’s no wonder you felt compelled to call on him today. I daresay the idea of the man you’ve conjured has captured your fancy. But trust me, my love, these sorts of men aren’t worth the effort.”

“How do you know? You’ve only ever loved Papa.”

Her mother’s countenance softened just as it always did at the mention of her love for Kate’s father. “I have. Which is exactly how I know that genuine affection isn’t one-sided. A gentleman who cares, who’s truly worth your effort, will make an effort of his own. He’ll seek you out. He’ll endeavor to win you.”

“Who says a lady must allow herself to be won?” Kate asked, nettled. “You didn’t raise me to be anyone’s prize.”