Page 61 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Kate finds a way. She’s the baby. She’s accustomed to getting what she wants.” Ivo gave him a sympathetic grimace “Whatever she has planned, you’d best be on your guard.”

“I thought this was just a morning ride.”

“It’s never just a ride,” Ivo replied feelingly.

They joined the others over the rise, trotting down a short path alongside a snow-flocked woodland. A small cottage was visible in the distance, surrounded by a broken stone wall. Kate and Jack led the way toward it.

Ivo grinned. “So that’s what she has in mind. I might have guessed it.”

Charles cast him a quizzical glance. “Are we paying a call on someone?”

“Not on a person,” Ivo said. “That cottage is where the gamekeeper stores his guns.”

* * *

“Won’t the gamekeeper be upset if we borrow his rifles?” Hannah asked as she followed Kate into the icy interior of the stone cottage. It was neat and tidy, with a plain wood kitchen table, an old stuffed sofa and chairs, and several worn, rag-carpets covering the slatted floor.

Kate passed through to the gun cupboard, the skirts of her riding habit tossed over one arm. “They’re not his. They belong to the estate. And Mr. Gridley doesn’t mind our using them. It was he who gave me the keys to the cupboard.”

"Will he be loading for us?”

“No indeed,” Kate said. “He was asleep in the kitchens when last I saw him. Which is precisely how I prefer him. We don’t require his advice. We can load for ourselves.”

She unlocked the cupboard, revealing the hodgepodge of weaponry inside. There were rifles and muskets and even an ancient horse pistol or two from her father’s time.

Jack joined them inside after securing their horses. He selected an elegant polished rifle with a thirty-inch barrel from the cupboard. It was Kate’s favorite. “Where shall we set the targets? On the wall?”

Kate plucked the rifle from Jack’s fingers. She loaded it herself while he chose another. “Of course not. That would be no sport at all.”

“Sport enough for some among us.” Ivo entered the cottage with Charles. “Not everyone enjoys a shooting contest, Kate.”

He gave her a significant look, silently reminding her of the trouble she’d got into during her ill-fated dawn shooting contest on the Heath in London. Aunt Jane had revealed every detail in her letter to Kate’s mother, much to Kate’s chagrin. On learning of it, the whole family had joined in criticizing Kate for exposing the Beresford name to censure.

She lifted her chin in defiance. “This isn’t a contest. We won’t be vying for stakes.”

“Pity,” Jack said. “I could use a few quid.” He loaded his rifle. “Do you like shooting, Hannah?”

Hannah blushed. “I don’t dislike it. Not so long as it’s target shooting and not hunting.”

Jack’s hand stilled on the ramrod he was using to push the lead ball, powder, and cartridge paper into the muzzle of his rifle. “You object to hunting?”

“I object to any sport in which animals are harmed,” Hannah replied.

“None will be harmed today,” Kate said. “We can shoot at pine cones.”

Charles chose an old rifle for himself from the cupboard. He tested the weight of it in his hand.

Kate met his eyes as he loaded it. “I trust you don’t object to a little good-natured competition?”

His mouth hitched in a wry smile. “What makes you think I’m up to it?”

“Sailors can shoot, can’t they?”

“Not all of them. And not all of them well.”

Kate appreciated his modesty, but she saw no need for it. “Don’t pretend you’re among that class. Gilbert Trumble has already revealed all.”

“Ah,” Charles said. “Is that what’s prompted this diversion?”