Page 82 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

He’d been delayed in coming to her for precisely that reason.

Though now was plainly not the right time to enlighten her.

She slipped her hand from his, her expression growing wary. “I trust you’re not getting any foolish ideas.”

“A great many, in fact,” he told her.

Her eyes narrowed. “None to do with honor and self-sacrifice, I hope.”

“You may believe that self-sacrifice doesn’t come into it.”

“I’m serious, Charles. If you’ve come to pursue me, I won’t have it be because you feel some tedious obligation.”

“Obligation is the last thing I’m feeling at the moment. Bewilderment, more like it. How is it that we’re quarreling about this?”

Outside the storm worsened. Rain beat against the windows, streaming down the glass in zigzagging rivulets.

“Because,” Kate said determinedly, “it’s important to me that I’m wanted for myself. Not for my fortune, or my family name, or even for the way I look. And certainly not because a man feels himself duty bound by some antiquated notion of masculine honor.”

“I see.” Charles thought he did. “It’s a good thing, then, that I want you for none of those reasons.”

Suspicion darkened her brow. “Don’t you?”

“No. It was your spirit that first attracted my interest.”

“My spirit,” she repeated doubtfully.

“You are beautiful, Kate. You’re also valiant, warmhearted, and maddeningly unpredictable. A delicate confection, with a bite to it. Rather like those chocolates I gave you.”

A reluctant smile edged her mouth. “Or like your dog.”

He smiled in return, relieved he’d managed to leaven the moment. “My sister’s dog now. I hesitate to call him delicate.”

“How is Hannah?”

“Very well. She sends her regards, as do my parents.”

“They know you came to see me?”

“We didn’t discuss it, but I suspect so. I told them I had business in town. It’s not entirely untrue.” Charles explained, “Mr. Catmull refused my offer on Satterthwaite Court.”

“Oh no!” she said. “But why?”

“Because he’s taken a personal dislike to me, apparently.” Charles gave her an abridged version of his conversation with Mr. Inch in Taunton.

Kate shook her head, unable to make sense of it. “I don’t understand. Are you quite certain you’ve never met Mr. Catmull before?”

“Not that I’m aware,” Charles said.

“You’d recall if you had. His appearance isn’t of the variety a person easily forgets. The way he looks at one!” She gave an eloquent shudder. “Miss Mattingly and I had the misfortune to cross paths with him at the confectioner’s shop today and you’ll never guess. He was at Satterthwaite Court when we visited it in January.”

“What?”

“Yes, I was rather taken aback myself.”

Charles recalled the rifle shot that had hit the tree branch above them. He understood, all at once, why he’d experienced the same heightened sense of awareness he’d felt in battle. That odd prickle at the back of his neck that told him he was in an enemy’s sights. It hadn’t been the shot itself that had caused it, it had been the intention he’d sensed behind it.

If Catmull had been in residence at the time…