Page 35 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Arbogast,” the shopkeeper repeated thoughtfully. “Might be that’s the new man Mr. Crale has taken on.”

“Crale?”

“The solicitor down the road.” The shopkeeper emerged from behind his counter to accompany them back out the door. He pointed to a small brick building with a slate roof located at the end of the street. The door of the establishment was painted a bright bottle green. “Can’t miss it.”

Kate thanked the man. “A solicitor?” she whispered to the lieutenant as they continued down Gold Street. “Perhaps it is about a lost will.”

The lieutenant was still frowning. He always seemed to be doing so. Kate began to wonder if he ever smiled. If he ever laughed.

“Don’t be absurd,” he said.

“What else can it mean? A great wrong, the letter said. It must be about an inheritance. In novels, someone is always being done out of their money or property or some such thing.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Does your family know where you are?”

“I don’t see why that matters.”

“It matters a great deal. You’re miles from home. You’ve lamed your horse. Your groom has left you and you have no chaperone to lend you countenance.”

“I don’t require a chaperone.”

“Every young lady requires a—”

“How very straitlaced you are. I wouldn’t have thought it after the circumstances of our first meeting. You seemed rather out of the common way, then.”

“As did you, my lady,” he replied.

Her eyes flew to his. For a full three seconds, she could think of no way to respond.

“Ah,” he said. “Here it is. Oldsmuir and Crale, solicitors.”

Kate’s momentary lapse into girlish self-consciousness was instantly forgotten. She gave the lieutenant a look of unvarnished excitement. “Shall we go in together?”

“I don’t think that’s—”

But it was too late. Kate was already pushing open the door.

Chapter Eleven

Charles stifled a muttered oath as he followed Kate into the interior of the solicitor’s office. He was half-tempted to toss her over his shoulder, carry her back to the coaching inn, and put her bodily into a carriage that would take her straight home to Beasley Park.

An alarming impulse.

He’d never in his life laid hands on a lady. A gentleman wouldn’t even think of doing so.

But the feelings Charles was having for Lady Kate Beresford weren’t at all gentlemanly.

From the moment he’d set eyes on her standing in the middle of Gold Street, diligently examining her horse’s hoof, with seemingly not a care in the world for her reputation, he’d experienced an odd tightness in his chest. It was merely worry for her safety, he’d assured himself. That, and aggravation that she’d made good on her threat to come to Tiverton.

But that wasn’t all it was.

Charles wasn’t too proud to admit it to himself. Like it or not, he was captivated by the girl.

An uncomfortable state of affairs.

Lovely as she was, she was also as brash and unpredictable as wildfire. Being around her had lit something equally unpredictable within him—some rogue spark of emotion he didn’t quite know what to do with.

He had no intention of revealing it to her.