Page 70 of Kathryn

“You bought me a horse?” she said stupidly.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

His piercing gaze slid away and then he cleared his throat. “After church we will go for a ride.”

She felt a twinge of irritation at his dictatorial manner but swallowed it down. After all, she wanted to go riding. She was accustomed to going most mornings in the country and had missed it greatly. “I would like that.”

He grunted. “Finish your meal.”

Again, she gritted her teeth but obeyed him without causing a fuss.

A moment later he spoke again. “My mother says she will accompany you on morning calls next week.”

“Correct.” The word slipped out before she could stop herself.

If Dulverton noticed the mocking echo of his own favorite word, he gave no sign of it. “Two of the neighboring gentry are widowers, so you will not want to leave cards with them. Both have estates touching Briarly so I will make the necessary gesture,” he said, shocking her with his unprecedented garrulousness.

Before she could come up with a response, Thomas entered. “Her Grace begs your pardon, but she will not be attending the service this morning.”

Katie found it passing strange that Betje would ignore an opportunity to get out of the house. She was a woman who enjoyed company and had mentioned her active social life at Spenwood with longing.

If Dulverton found his mother’s decision unusual, he did not show it. Instead, he looked at the clock.

Katie glanced at her half-full cup of coffee with regret and tossed her napkin onto the table and stood. “I am ready.”

Whatever talkative muse had seized Dulverton at the breakfast table deserted him in the carriage and they made the short journey to the church in silence.

The vicarage sat just on the edge of the village of Colton, which was comprised of a few dozen cottages, a quaint inn called the Sleeping Boar, a smithy, a post office, and a tiny mercantile shop. Katie assumed the town had had no reason to grow any larger given its proximity to Lyme Regis.

The carriage deposited them outside the vicarage at one minute before the hour and most of the pews were full as they made their way to the front of the small church.

Katie was not surprised when Dulverton led her to a private box. It was elegantly appointed with red velvet cushions on the wooden seats, the walls of the box ending just above Katie’s chin. The top edge had a narrow strip of stained glass that was framed by intricately carved wood. The slight amount of concealment that was afforded by the high walls of the box was not quite enough to ameliorate the feeling of being watched, so it was only after the service began that she was able to relax and sneak surreptitious glances at her surroundings.

The church was as elegant and snug as a little jewel box and was obviously lovingly cared for. The intricate arched stained-glass windows, she saw by one of the brass plaques, had been donated by a Duke of Dulverton in 1701.

There were six private boxes, two large ones on either side of the aisle and two smaller boxes behind each of those. The two boxes behind Katie and Dulverton were filled by large families.

The large box across the aisle was every bit as lovely and ornate as Dulverton’s, but it was empty and only one of the smaller boxes behind it was occupied. A modestly garbed woman who looked to be the same age as Betje sat alone.

The woman caught Katie staring and smiled at her. She felt flustered but her lips naturally curved upward before she hastily turned away. After that encounter, she kept her attention on the vicar until the service was over.

It seemed to Katie that the entire congregation was lingering when she and Dulverton exited the church. Her husband stopped in front of the vicar and two women and turned to Katie. “This is the Reverend Adam Nicholson, Mrs. Nicholson, and his sister, Miss Dorcas Nicholson. Reverend, this is my wife.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Katie said, smiling at the trio as they bowed and curtsied.

“The pleasure is ours, Your Grace,” the vicar said. “And may I offer you both my sincere congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Dulverton said stiffly.

“It is always such a delight to see faces in the private boxes,” the vicar went on.

“And this summer they will all have occupants,” his wife chimed in. “It will be the first time in two years that Lady Grimsby will be with us.”

Katie stiffened at a name she had not heard in five years. Jasper’s grandmother lived here? How did she not know that?

“Is aught amiss Your Grace?” the vicar asked, a notch of concern between his eyes.