Page 47 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Yes, I know. Your father claims you’re desirous of a quiet, peaceful life.”

“I am,” he said. “It’s why I’ve come home. I thought you understood.”

She pressed his hand. “My darling boy, I still don’t entirely understand why you left.”

Charles sighed. How he could explain to her what he scarcely comprehended himself? “I was restless,” he said. “Dissatisfied, I suppose. Being here, in the shadow of so much contentment…” He paused before admitting, “Happy as I was…there were times I found it hard to live up to your example. To be as good as you, as heroic as father.”

His mother’s expression softened. “You’ve had your share of heroics.”

“In the Navy perhaps.”

“I’m not talking about soldiering. Do you recall rescuing that tomcat out of the tree when you were five? You went straight up to the topmost branches before your father could stop you. And then you came down again with the thankless cat balanced over your shoulder, hissing and spitting, very nearly scratching your eyes out.”

Charles uttered a short laugh. “I remember.”

“And what about that holiday we took in Cornwall? You saw that boy struggling in the waves and you swam out to help him. You nearly drowned yourself.”

“I was twelve.”

“Exactly my point. You’d no need to leave England to prove yourself. You’ve been showing us exactly who you are since you were a boy.”

“Spoken like a mother,” Charles said.

“Perhaps.” Philly rose, giving his hand a final squeeze before releasing it. “But no less true.”

Chapter Fifteen

The invitation to Beasley Park arrived a week later. It was contained in a letter from Kate to Hannah, written in the most eloquent terms, expressing Kate’s wish that the Heywood family join the Beresford family for three days of riding, dancing, and post-Christmas merriment.

It couldn’t have come at a worse moment.

“It’s only a trifling head cold,” Charles’s mother said. “I shall be better in a day or two.”

Charles stood in the doorway of her room, regarding her with concern. His father was already within, seated on the edge of the bed where Charles’s mother lay propped against a fluffy pile of pillows. Her nose was red, her hair tucked under a lace-trimmed muslin cap.

She was right. There was no need to worry. She’d only been coughing and sneezing a bit—a natural result of being caught in the rain while riding yesterday morning.

Her symptoms had nevertheless set the entire household on its head.

“You must rest the week.” Arthur held Philly’s hand. He hadn’t left her side since the onset of her cold. “I’ll not have you risking your health.”

“No indeed,” Philly said. “But the children shouldn’t have to miss their outing on my account. If you were to accompany them in my absence, dearest—”

“There’s no question of that, my love,” Arthur said. “And no need for it. It’s Charles who’s wanted, not the pair of us. He’s perfectly capable of chaperoning Hannah for three days’ time.”

An irritating flicker of heat crept beneath Charles’s cravat. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s wanted,” he said gruffly. “The letter was for Hannah, if you recall.”

“Yes, and very nicely done,” his father said. “You won’t mind accompanying your sister?”

“No,” Charles said. “Of course not.”

He could hardly refuse. Not just because of what he owed his sister, but because of what he’d promised Kate.

He blamed the rifle shot. It had knocked him off-balance where she was concerned. Made him overattached and overprotective.

And not only the rifle shot.

When they’d returned to Tiverton, when he’d handed her up into the coach that would take her safely home, she’d clasped his hand so tightly, her blue eyes for the first time uncertain.