Page 34 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

Kate eagerly scanned the street. Aside from a smattering of ladies exiting the linen-draper’s shop, arms full of packages, there was no one else about.

Her shoulders drooped with disappointment. “I don’t see anyone who might be this Mr. Arbogast person.”

“The man’s not likely to appear out of nowhere.”

“Why not? You seemed to do so.”

“I was walking from the White Horse. You’d have noticed me if you weren’t so absorbed with concern for your horse.”

“Of course I was concerned. I’ve had Ember since he was a foal. I’d never forgive myself if my decision to ride here today resulted in his being lamed.”

“It was a stone, nothing more. Horses pick them up regularly.” Lieutenant Heywood gestured for her to precede him to the left side of the street, safely out of the path of an oncoming carriage. “It could have happened anywhere.”

“I suppose so.” Draping the skirts of her habit over her arm, Kate crossed the road ahead of him.

Lieutenant Heywood followed, shadowing her like some great, broad-shouldered stoic knight of old guarding the lady to whom he’d pledged an unwilling fealty.

She was conscious of his every step.

He didn’t like her overmuch, that was plain. He didn’t want to be in her company. When they reached the side of the street, he nevertheless walked along her right, shielding her from the dirt and traffic of the road. For all his rudeness, the lieutenant knew how to act the gentleman. Like her or not, he was resolved to do his duty.

The fact made Kate cross as a cat. She didn’t want to be any man’s duty. Not his, certainly. “Have you learned anything more about this Mr. Arbogast?” she asked.

“No.”

“And the letter said nothing about the man’s premises or—”

“You know it didn’t.”

“So…? What do you propose to do next?”

The lieutenant’s frowning gray gaze drifted over the placards that hung above the doors of the shops that lined the way. “I propose to walk up one side of the street and down the other until I find the man. If there’s an establishment that bears his name, I’ll see it soon enough.”

Kate snorted.

Lieutenant Heywood’s gaze cut to hers. “You have a better idea?”

“An infinitely better one. Why don’t we just ask somebody?” Kate didn’t wait for the lieutenant to agree with her. Sidestepping a puddle of winter slush, she entered the linen-draper’s shop.

What was it about gentlemen that prevented them asking for help? One would think there was something inherently bad in inquiring after directions. Kate’s brothers were just the same. It made the simplest tasks far more difficult than they need be.

The bell on the door rang shrilly as they passed through it, announcing their arrival to the grizzled shopkeeper at the wooden counter. Bolts of fabric lined the walls around him, along with a small selection of ribbons, fringes, and buttons.

“May I help you, madam? Sir?” he asked.

“I hope you can.” Kate approached the counter.

Lieutenant Heywood stood stern and silent at her back. He might have been her brother for all the shopkeeper knew.

Or her husband.

The thought provoked a trill of butterfly wings in Kate’s stomach. She refused to credit the feeling. Not when the man was being so surly and disobliging.

Granted, he may not have said anything outright, but he didn’t need to. Disapproval was evident in every inch of his towering frame. Disapproval of her and her involvement in what was—admittedly—his own private problem.

Kate felt a twinge of remorse for meddling in his affairs. She didn’t credit that either. It was the lieutenant’s own fault she was here. If he hadn’t accused her of writing that letter, she’d never have known about any of this.

“We’re looking for the premises of a Mr. Arbogast,” she said. “We’d be obliged if you could direct us to them.”