being was more important than thinking. She was waiting for it to happen to her again, but this time with a man who could hear the same primitive beat.
Ahead of them, shining and silvery in the sun, the neo-classical stone façade of Sheen Court watched their approach through unadorned windows and a central portico that soared above both storeys on Corinthian columns. Three flights of wide steps rippled down to the drive between gigantic urns where Caterina brought her aunt’s phaeton to a perfect standstill. Footmen in grey livery ran to take the horses’ heads as a tall figure strolled towards them at a more leisurely pace, two brindled greyhounds loping at his heels. He was smiling.
‘It’s Lord Elyot,’ Sara whispered. ‘I never know what to say to him.’
‘It’s not Lord Elyot,’ said Caterina, ‘it’s his younger brother, Lord Rayne. Lord Seton Rayne.’
There was something in the urgency of her sister’s contradiction that opened Sara’s blue eyes even wider. ‘You mean…Seton? The one you—?’
‘Shh! That was years ago. I didn’t know he was back home.’
‘Where from?’
‘The army.’ Caterina called to him as he came alongside and held a hand up to her in greeting. ‘Lord Rayne. What are you doing here?’
‘I lived here once. Remember?’ He laughed back at her with a flash of white teeth.
‘Heavens, so you did. I’d almost forgotten.’
He was not meant to believe her. Nor did he. Holding up his other hand, he invited her down. ‘Come down here, Miss Caterina Chester, and let me remind you, then. And introduce me to your lovely companion, if you will. Or have you forgotten your manners, too?’ He caught her, returning her hug like a favourite brother, almost lifting her off her feet and whooping like a child.
She had often wondered in what ways they would have changed since their last meeting. Then, she had said the same inadequate farewell as everyone else as he went off to join his regiment, the one in which his brother had served some years earlier. Then, she had vowed to shed no more tears for a man, and she had kept her word through the pain of rejection, and through the healing.
It had been very civilised and well arranged. He had been as understanding and sorry at twenty-five as she had been at seventeen, and perhaps more kindly. He had explained that she was too young for him, that he was about to leave for a long spell of duty and that he was not the kind of man she deserved. He had been abroad, visiting seldom, and then only briefly. She had not believed then, nor did she now, that love had much to do with deserving, but she had accepted his explanation because it was sensitively given and because she had little alternative.
Both Lord Rayne and his elder brother had had mistresses and clearly she was not his style, gauche and innocent and, though pretty, nothing like the raving beauty she was now. There had never been any kind of intimacy between them and she had no reason to reproach him except for not wanting her, for his behaviour had been utterly correct, if sometimes maddeningly confusing. For the last few weeks of their friendship, when matters had been resolved between them, they had been more like brother and sister than before, where affectionate bickering was a comfortable substitute for onesided adoration.
For Caterina, it had been the hardest and most emotional lesson of her life, learned with Aunt Amelie’s help in lieu of a mother’s. Her dignity had won her aunt’s admiration, for this had all come at a time when her astonishing singing voice had just been discovered, her little feet placed on the first rung of stardom and her launch into the best society. It was for that very reason her widowed father had asked her widowed Aunt Amelie to be her chaperon.
With her feet now firmly on the same level as Lord Rayne’s, she realised that her heart was not all a-flutter as she had thought it might be, and that, although she was delighted to see him again, he was even more like the adopted brother than the one she’d left behind all those years ago. Full of curiosity about what those years had done to him, she watched as he handed Sara down from the phaeton and was introduced to her.
To anyone less familiar with every detail, the slight loss of weight would have gone unnoticed with the new soldierly bearing, the bronzed skin stretched more tautly over perfect cheekbones, the skin around the eyes rather more lined, weathered more than suffered. From what she’d heard, life in the Prince Regent’s own regiment, the 10th Light Dragoons, was never to be suffered, even at the worst of times, their reputation less for fighting than for just about every other masculine activity.
Lord Rayne had changed physically less than Caterina, but he was still as handsome as he had been before, still as immaculately dressed, dark hair as carefully disordered, neckcloth simply tied and spotless. Lord Elyot and his brother were probably the handsomest pair in the beau monde; no one had ever contradicted that in Caterina’s hearing.
Sara had already turned a pretty shade of pink as they mounted the steps with their arms tucked through Lord Rayne’s, and it was Caterina who fired the first salvo of questions. ‘How long have you been home? Have you sold out now? Have you been offered a position?’
He squeezed her arm against him, looking down at the mass of deep chestnut curls as rebellious as their owner, at the flawless skin and the sun-kissed cheeks, the sweep of thick lashes and the marvellous arch of her brows. How she had changed; her movements now every bit as graceful as her aunt’s, her manner assured and confident. ‘Only a couple of days,’ he said, smiling into her eyes. ‘But never mind that. Tell me about all these improper offers you’ve had, Cat. I thought you’d have had a clutch of bairns by now.’
‘Oh, how vulgar you are,’ she scolded. ‘And don’t fib. You didn’t think of me at all, did you?’
‘Yes, I did. Once or twice. But I didn’t imagine…well…’
‘Well what?’
‘That you’d have blossomed so. We have some catching up to do. And does Miss Chester sing?’ He looked down at Sara’s bonnet.
‘Only a little, my lord,’ Sara said. ‘I mostly play the harp when Cat sings. It’s easier.’
Lord Rayne smiled indulgently at her, thinking how very different the two sister were and how agreeable their relationship. He did not believe it would be as easy as all that to accompany Caterina when she sang, knowing what he did of her high standards. ‘Signor Cantoni is already here,’ he said. ‘Would you like an audience for your lesson?’
‘As long as you don’t disturb us with your snoring,’ Caterina replied.
Always welcoming, Lady Elyot greeted her nieces more like sisters, embracing them and keeping hold of their hands, noticing her brother-in-law’s obvious delight. ‘Now, you’ve met again at last. Any changes, Seton?’
‘Plenty,’ he said, with a teasing glance. ‘Thank heaven.’
‘Still ungentlemanly,’ Caterina snapped. ‘No change there. Don’t expect any compliments, Sara dear. Lord Rayne has even forgotten the one he knew.’
Sara giggled, understanding but unable to match her sister’s wit. ‘We’ve brought the phaeton back, Aunt Amelie,’ she said. ‘Cat thought it best because we’re away to Wiltshire tomorrow and it won’t be used for a few days. And Hannah won’t be coming with us after all, because the baby twins are coming down with something.’
‘Oh, my dear, I’m sorry to hear that. Has
