Page 64 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“As you should,” Ivo said. “Leave the rest to us mortals.”

Hannah collected another batch of pine cones and, with Ivo’s help, assembled them on the wall while Jack busied himself reloading.

Kate remained with Charles, her blood still humming merrily.

His smile broadened. “I see I’ve impressed you.”

She had the sense that he’d wanted to impress her. Indeed, unless she was mistaken, he’d been showing off a little. “You have,” she said. “Are there no end to your talents?”

“That's the extent of them.”

“Nonsense. You can shoot. You can ride. You’re excellent with animals. And you’re a marvelous brother, as well. It leaves me to wonder…”

“You were expecting something more?”

“Only one thing,” she said. “I trust you can waltz?”

Chapter Nineteen

After dinner that evening, Kate had the drawing room cleared for dancing.

“I’d have rather we used the ballroom,” she said, sinking down on the velvet-covered stool in front of the satinwood pianoforte. The voluminous flounced skirts of her white tarlatane muslin evening dress pooled around her slippered feet. “But it’s shut up this time of year. We’ve had no balls or parties large enough to warrant opening it. Winters at Beasley are rather isolated.”

Charles stood over her, poised to turn the pages of her music. “My sister and I passed a thriving village on our journey here. We saw several great houses, as well.”

“Oh yes, there are a great many villagers and prosperous farmers hereabouts. We host a Harvest ball for them every autumn when we’re in residence. As for the local gentry, the only family worth inviting to anything is that of our neighbor, Sir Frederick Burton-Smythe, and he and my parents don’t get on.”

It was a vast understatement, but Charles didn’t need to hear the whole of it.

Kate wanted him to see only the best of her family during his visit.

She spread her fingers over the keys. If this were a larger gathering, there would be someone else volunteering to provide the music while she and the others danced. But there were only eight of them altogether—five gentleman and three ladies. It was a number that included her parents.

Kate wasn’t the only one among them skilled at the pianoforte. However, the dancing had been her idea. She felt duty-bound to take the first turn at the instrument.

Outside, the snow swirled in lace-patterned flurries against the windows. A chill seeped through the glass, creeping into the edges of the room. Only the blazing fire in the cavernous marble hearth kept it at bay.

“Play it allegretto, Kate,” Jack said. “It will warm us up.” He stood in the center of the room across from Hannah Heywood.

James was beside him, lined up facing their mother.

Mama wore a blue moiré evening dress, embellished with a rich fall of lace at her bosom and sleeves. Papa stood by the hearth, regarding her with a smile, while Ivo wandered near the doors of the drawing room, too restless to sit still.

“You don’t have to turn the pages,” Kate said to Charles. “I know most of this one by heart.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said.

Kate began to play a Scotch reel, performing the piece as her brother had bid her, fast and lively, at a pace commensurate with an energetic country-dance. It wasn’t too difficult. She was a creditable hand at the piano and harp. What she lacked in skill, she made up for with energy and enthusiasm, lending a boisterous quality to the chords that harmonized with the laughter and stamping feet of the dancers.

James and Jack changed partners at intervals. Hannah’s face flamed each time she took James’s hands, and James’s smile dimmed, his eyes becoming guarded, whenever he gazed down at her in turn.

Charles watched them, frowning.

“She’s safe with my brother,” Kate said. “He’d as soon blow his brains out than commit an impropriety.”

Charles’s brows lifted. “A vivid metaphor.”

“An apt one. For all I know, he’ll one day be prime minister. He’s that straitlaced and decent. It’s quite dull really.”