a remarkable amount of cheek—not a distinction most ladies of the ton would countenance from their abigail, but Kate wouldn’t have it any other way.
Lizzy stepped back from the armoire. “This should do, I think.”
Kate took one look at the peach gown her friend held out for her, and sighed yet again. “It’s a shame dark colors aren’t fashionable for young ladies. We’d have a much easier time of it.”
“But fewer excuses to go shopping,” Lizzy replied with a grin as she took the stockings from Kate’s hand and stuffed them in a pocket of her apron.
“That’s true.” She accepted the gown and pulled it over her head. Lizzy worked the buttons up the back.
“Was there anyone else about?” Lizzy inquired after a moment.
“At the pond, you mean? Yes, unfortunately.” Kate winced. “I came across Mr. Hunter on my return.”
“Mr. Hunter,” Lizzy repeated thoughtfully. “I do wish I could put my finger on why he seems so familiar.”
“As do I, but like as not, he simply resembles someone we’ve both met in passing—a shopkeeper in London, perhaps.”
“Perhaps. I suspect it’ll come to you first.” Lizzy fastened the last button to step around and give Kate a decidedly cheeky smile. “You spend more time looking at him than I do.”
“I do nothing of the—”
“And he spends considerable time looking at you.”
“I…” Well, yes, there was no arguing that.
“You may as well admit you’re curious,” Lizzy commented with a shrug. “There’s no harm in it.”
Without thought, Kate lifted a hand to her cheek. She swore she could still feel the lingering warmth where Mr. Hunter’s fingers had brushed along her skin. Perhaps she was a little curious about him. And Lizzy was right, what harm was there in that? Then again, if memory served, she’d been curious at the age of six as to what would happen if she tried to keep a grasshopper as a pet.
She dropped her hand. “Curiosity killed the cat.”
It had certainly killed the poor grasshopper.
“Satisfaction brought it back,” Lizzy countered. “But they do have nine lives.”
A soft knock on the door kept Kate from responding. A young maid entered, carrying a letter in her hands. “A missive for you, Lady Kate.”
Kate crossed the room in several quick strides, excitement and nerves fighting for control of her system. She’d been expecting a letter from a London publisher for some time. “Thank you, Alice.”
Alice handed her the letter, bobbed a curtsy, and left.
“Which one was this?” Lizzy asked, stepping up to peer over Kate’s shoulder.
Kate stared at the sealed paper, biting her lip. “The waltz I composed last summer.”
Lizzy bounced on her toes. “Well, go on, then. Open it.”
“Right.” Marshalling her courage, Kate broke the seal and unfolded the letter. She read the first line and the excitement and nerves quickly turned into the familiar weight of disappointment. “I don’t know why I let myself become hopeful,” she grumbled, refolding the letter. “It’s always no.”
“They’ve no sense,” Lizzy said loyally. “They’ll never make a go of their business with poor judgment such as that.”
They’d been making a go of their business for nearly a half century, but Kate couldn’t see the good in pointing that out. “Thank you, Lizzy.”
“You’d not have such trouble, if you led them to believe you’re a man,” Lizzy commented. “Or if you let Lord Thurston put a word in for you. Or you could pay them—”
“I could do all those things,” Kate agreed and crossed the room to place the letter in a drawer of her desk, on top of a stack of similarly worded rejections. “But I won’t. I want my work to be accepted on its own merit. And I want credit for that success.” She scowled at the stack of letters for a moment before turning to Lizzy. “Does that make me dreadfully vain?”
“Not dreadfully,” Lizzy hedged. “A mite stubborn, though.”
Kate reached back to close the desk drawer. “If being a mite stubborn is what it takes, so be it. I’ll send out another inquiry tomorrow.”
And she would send another inquiry after that, and another after that, and however many it took after that until she received a satisfactory answer. Seeing her music published and hearing it played in a public venue wasn’t her only dream, but it was the only one hard work and perseverance would make come true.
As the sun set, Hunter settled on a stone bench in a secluded section of Haldon Hall’s vast garden. He gave the man sitting on the bench across from him a hard