Page 77 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

“Lieutenant Heywood isn’t just anyone,” Kate said. “He’s the grandson of the Earl of Gordon. And he’s a famous naval officer. He earned a fortune in prize money during his time at sea. A man lacking in courage could never have done so. If he wants to see me, he’ll find a way to be there.”

She spoke confidently enough, but as Kate drank her tea, niggling doubts began to eat away at her peace of mind.

Christine’s expression softened. “Upon my word, Kate. If I didn’t know you better, I’d suspect you of pining. You really do like him, don’t you?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Kate asked.

“I confess, I had my doubts in the beginning. But if you’re sure of him—”

“I am.”

Reaching across the table, Christine clasped Kate’s hand. “Then I shall support the match with my whole heart.”

Kate pressed her friend’s fingers in gratitude. “You’re a darling.”

Christine squeezed her hand in return before releasing it. “I’m practical. I realize that once you’ve set your heart on something, you won’t rest until you have it. I’d be foolish to stand in your way.”

“If only my feelings were the sole concern. It’s his that are at issue. He may not like me as well as I like him. Not well enough to exert himself.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Kate scarcely did herself. She feared she’d lost control of the situation—and of her emotions. It had made her strangely vulnerable. “I only wish he was here now. I’ve been in a town nearly a week already and he’s yet to show his face.”

“What you need is diversion,” Christine said. “Sir Lawrence has promised to take us to the theater tomorrow night. There’s a dramatization of Mr. Dickens’s A Christmas Carol that is sure to be delightful.”

Kate mustered a show of enthusiasm. She refused to let her anxious mood diminish her friend’s enjoyment. “I look forward to it,” she said.

As she and Christine finished their tea, the door of the confectioner’s shop opened. A thin, angular-faced gentleman stepped in from the rain, removing his curly-brimmed hat and shaking out his silk umbrella. His close-set eyes found Kate immediately.

She inwardly groaned. It was Mr. Catmull.

He wasted no time in approaching their table. “Lady Katherine. Miss Mattingly. What a happy accident it is to encounter you here.”

Kate joined Christine in greeting the odious man, wondering all the while if his appearance truly was an accident. Had he been watching her since her arrival in town? Marking her movements along the strands of his web like a spider stalking a fly?

“A storm is brewing,” he said. “I see you’re without your maid or footman.”

“My maid has gone to fetch the carriage,” Christine replied. “She’ll be back directly.”

He pulled out a chair. “Allow me to offer my protection while you await her return.”

Kate stiffened. As if they required his chaperonage!

But Christine was in no position to rebuff a gentleman who was in business with her betrothed. She offered Mr. Catmull a gracious smile. “An excellent idea, sir.”

“I consider it my duty.” Mr. Catmull sat down beside Kate. His leg brushed the swell of her skirts beneath the table. “Were it up to me, no young lady would set foot out of doors unescorted.”

“Then we should be grateful it isn’t,” Kate said. “This isn’t the dark ages, sir. We ladies are accustomed to exercising a degree of independence.”

“You may rightly accuse me of being old fashioned, my lady,” he replied. “I hold to the belief that females are the weaker sex. It needn’t be viewed as a failure on your part. It’s simply how you were fashioned. Your bodies and brains aren’t equipped to handle the rigors of life without a man’s guidance and protection. It is our moral duty to look after you.”

Kate exchanged an affronted glance with Christine.

“A laudable sentiment,” Christine murmured politely.

“That’s one word for it,” Kate said.

Christine shot her a warning look. She liked Mr. Catmull no better than Kate did, but it wouldn’t do to insult the man. Not so long as Sir Lawrence and Mr. Catmull were on terms of cordiality.