Kit spent the following two days paying visits to various tenants’ wives, hearing about their families, their troubles, renewing the women’s direct contact with Cranmer Hall, which had lapsed since her grandmother’s death. Yet between the chatter-filled visits, she brooded, surprised at herself yet unable to shake free.

Discussing love with Amy had been a mistake. Ever since, she’d been restless. Until then, Cranmer had seemed the perfect haven. Now, something was missing. She didn’t appreciate the feeling.

Luckily, the next day was too busy for brooding, filled instead with preparations for the dinner Spencer had organized to reintroduce her formally to their neighbors. Kit managed to squeeze in a ride in the afternoon but returned in good time to change.

The guests arrived punctually at eight. Waiting to greet them at the drawing room door, Kit stood beside Spencer, impressive in a silk coat and white knee breeches, his white mane wreathing his proud head. His expression was one of paternal pride, for which Kit knew she was directly responsible.

She’d chosen her gown carefully, rejecting fine muslins and low-cut satins in favor of a delicate creation in aquamarine silk. The free-flowing material did justice to her slender length; the neckline was scooped and scalloped as befitted her age but remained high enough for propriety. The color heightened the glow of her burnished curls and drew attention to the creaminess of her skin.

Her eyes sparkled as she curtsied to the Lord Lieutenant, Lord Marchmont, and his wife, drawing an appreciative look from his lordship.

“Kathryn, my dear, it’s a pleasure to see you back in the fold.”

Kit smiled easily. “Indeed, my lord, it’s a pleasure to be back and meeting old friends.”

Lord Marchmont laughed and tapped her cheek. “Very prettily said, my dear.”