“Not on the bank in full sight of everyone, I hope,” Beatrice Finley said, fanning her face vigorously with a sheet of music.

“Oh, my!” Alice Dubois exclaimed, a hand over her heart. “Perhaps I can persuade Michael to join the tug-of-war.”

There was another flurry of girlish giggles.

“Fete?” Lady Forester said sharply from the other group of ladies. She looked at Katherine. “Fete? What fete?”

Katherine smiled.

“Jasper and I have decided to revive an old tradition of holding an annual summer fete and ball at Cedarhurst,” she explained. “There has not been much time to organize it this year, but everyone for miles around has pitched in to help so we are able to combine it with the celebration of Charlotte’s birthday the day after tomorrow.”

Lady Forester’s bosom had swelled.

“Ball?” she said. “In the ballroom? For girls who are not even out yet?”

It will be the only room large enough,” Katherine said. “All our neighbors will be attending as well as the houseguests. And all ages, too.”

“There cannot be that many people of genteel birth living close enough,” Lady Forester said.

“Everyone has been invited,” Katherine said.

“Everyone?” Lady Forester’s bosom swelled even further. But she was prevented from making any other comment by the arrival of the gentlemen from the dining room.

It was a few minutes before everyone had settled with their tea and Alice Dubois had taken her seat at the pianoforte with her betrothed standing behind her to turn the pages of her music. But as soon as everyone had settled and before the music could begin or any sustained conversation, Lady Forester spoke up again for all to hear.

“Uncle Seth,” she said, “did you realize that instead of a discreet birthday party here the day after tomorrow for dear Charlotte’s birthday, there is to be a fete and a ball?”

“I did not, Prunella,” he said with a scowl. “But thank you for the warning. I shall be sure to spend the day in my room-with the window closed.”

“Everyone is invited,” she said. “Everyone. That includes tenants and laborers and shopkeepers and other such, I presume. And Charlotte is to be allowed to dance in the ballroom during the evening. Surrounded by riff-raff. And there is to be mud wrestling and a tug-of-war over mud. Is this a fitting home for your great-niece and my niece and my dear dead brother’s daughter?”

“Clarrie,” Jasper said pleasantly, “there is room for another man or two on the tug-of-war teams, I believe. I daresay we can find you a place at the back of one of the lines-or at the front if you prefer.”

“Uncle Seth,” Lady Forester said, “my brother banned the annual fete when he married Charlotte’s dear mother. He banned it because it was vulgar. But more than that, it was sinful. He took a moral stand and refused to have Rachel and Jasper and Charlotte exposed to something so wicked.”

“I believe, ma’am,” Jasper said, “you would wish our guests to understand that your esteemed brother had the state of Rachel’s immortal soul in mind and mine when he announced the ban, but not Charlotte’s. It would have been nothing short of scandalous if she had been in existence at the time, just after his marriage to my mother.”

Mr. Dubois laughed aloud, and Mrs. Dubois silenced him with a pointed look. The young ladies all blushed and the young men looked interested.

“For the love of all that is wonderful, ma’am,” Uncle Stanley said, sounding thoroughly exasperated, “what Wrayburn did do with his pious ways was kill all the joy that had ever existed at Cedarhurst and besmirch my brother’s name. All in the name of a god of wrath I would not worship even if he heated up hell ten times over for my benefit.”

“Our papa,” Arnold Fletcher said from the far side of the pianoforte, his voice shaking slightly, “has told us so many grand tales of the Cedarhurst fetes that I can almost imagine that I had been at one. I cannot wait for the day after tomorrow.”

“Katherine and Jasper have worked very hard,” Margaret said quietly, “so that everyone in the neighborhood from the youngest child to the oldest grandparent can have a day of pure enjoyment.”

There was a general murmur of agreement.

“It is too bad, Prunella,” Mr. Wrayburn said, “when a man may not enjoy his after-dinner tea without being talked to and appealed to when he has said that he will make his decision in his own good time and with his own perfectly capable powers of observation. I’ll be damned before I leave home again.”

“Perhaps, Miss Dubois,” Katherine said, “you will play for us now? You always do it so well. And, Jasper, I believe Lady Hornsby and Miss Daniels would like to play cards if there are two gentlemen wishful of joining them. Sir Clarence, perhaps? And Mr. Gladstone? Is anyone ready for more tea?”

Lady Forester pressed her lips together and said no more. Margaret sat beside her and engaged her in conversation. Mrs. Dubois joined them.

Katherine was standing by the window in her bedchamber later that night, brushing out her hair, when Jasper opened the door from the private sitting room without knocking. He had seen beneath the door that a candle was still burning.

She was wearing the nightgown she had worn on their wedding night.

Come to me tonight, she had said out on the hill.

Well, here he was.

He propped one shoulder against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, his bare feet crossed at the ankles.

This afternoon had been just an appetizer. He wondered if she realized that.

She smiled at him, and the brush stilled in her hair.

“Is this what women who are no better than they ought to be do to entice their lovers?” he asked.

“You ought to know the answer to that better than I,” she said.

“Minx!” He pursed his lips and pushed himself away from the door frame to advance farther into the room. “Did that charge hurt you? And the accusation of being a social upstart?”

“I can be hurt,” she said, “only by people I respect.”

Which was probably as big a lie as she had ever told. It had made him see red.

“And you do not respect poor Clarrie.” He took the brush from her hand, turned her to face the window again, and drew it down the back of her head and all the way to the ends of her hair at her waist. “I did not avenge you very thoroughly, did I?”

“I found myself wishing,” she said, “that you would punch him in the nose, as Stephen once did, and hoping that you would not. It is precisely what Lady Forester and her like would expect you to do. I am glad you rose to the occasion and played the well-mannered host instead-though you did call him a nasty little beast. Which he is.”

She laughed softly, and he drew the brush through her hair again.

“I will avenge the insult,” he promised her.

“The baser part of my nature is glad to hear it,” she said. “But there must be no violence here, Jasper. It would be unseemly. And it might be the very thing that will cause Mr. Wrayburn to decide that this is indeed an unfit home for Charlotte.”

He set the brush down on the windowsill, moved the heavy column of her hair to one side, and set his lips against the back of her neck. She was warm and smelled of soap.

“Mmm,” she said, lifting her shoulders.

“There will be no violence,” he said. “Not, at least, anything anyone would classify as wanton viciousness. I have just the plan.”

“Oh, what?” She turned to face him, all eager curiosity, the bloodthirsty wench, and, when he did not step back, she set her hands on his shoulders.

“You will know when the time comes,” he said. “It will be quite unmistakable.”

And reasonably satisfying since he could not in all conscience use his fists while Clarence was a guest in his home. Quite satisfying, in fact.