Page 38 of Sinfully Daring

“Yes, Papa.” She hurried away, pausing at the end of the corridor to glance back at them before running around the corner.

Lucian stalked towards Kilbane, the desire to skewer him with the nearest sword making his muscles leap. Kilbane watched him come, apparently unconcerned. Lucian stood toe-to-toe with him, the only thing restraining him from strangling the whoreson with his cravat the fact the devil would probably enjoy it.

“Did you hear what happened to the man who tried to hurt my wife, Kilbane?”

The marquess nodded, not taking his eyes from him. “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “What was his name, Mr Brown? No, Mr Burton. You sliced him up into small pieces, as I understand it. At least, the scandal sheets would have it so,” Kilbane replied, his attention entirely on Lucian.

“For once, the scandal sheets are quite correct, and if you so much as breathe in the same direction as my daughter, upon my honour, you will wish for such a fate,” he hissed, only hoping the devil would give him an excuse to do it now so he wouldn’t have to wait and worry.

Kilbane’s sensuous mouth quirked. “Damn me, but you are magnificent,” he said softly, before giving a sigh. “And much as it would be fun to drive you to lay hands on me, I’m not in the mood to cross swords with you, literally or figuratively. So I shall put your mind at ease. I’ve no interest in marrying, and I don’t seduce innocents. Too much effort for too little reward, in my opinion. Your sweet little daughter is safe from my wicked clutches, I swear it.”

Lucian studied his expression. He was an excellent judge of character, and he could smell a lie from a mile away. Hard as it was to swallow, he believed Kilbane was sincere. Relieved, he took a step back.

“You won’t ever marry?” he asked, curious despite himself.

Having had the notion of his responsibility to the title driven into him with the force of a battering ram, such a dereliction of duty was beyond his comprehension.

Kilbane shook his head and then smirked. “And not because of my… wide ranging tastes, if that’s what you’re wondering. I adore women, of all varieties, I just believe in keeping my options open.”

“Then why not marry?” Lucian asked, compelled to understand how he could let such an old title die out. “Are there other lines—”

“Not a one. I shall be the last marquess and with me the title dies,” he said, with obvious satisfaction.

For once, Lucian’s emotions must have shown, because the man laughed. “My God, you’re notorious for being impervious to everything. You don’t blink when I make it clear I want you and your lovely wife in my bed, but let drop I’m allowing my title to die out and you’re aghast… and obviously so.”

“But why?” Lucian demanded.

Kilbane spread his arms wide, one dark eyebrow raising. “You really want another like me in the world? I’m inclined to feel flattered. Except it might be worse than that, they might turn out like my father, or my brother. No, no, I’m depraved, I grant you, but I shan’t be responsible for that. Hard you may find it to comprehend, I’m the white sheep of the family compared to those evil sods. Can you believe I disappointed my father daily for not being wicked enough? And I tried so very hard,” he added, his tone derisive.

Lucian frowned, hearing truth in the words. For the first time, he thought about what the man had endured as a child. Lucian knew what it was to live with evil, to live every day in fear. Had Kilbane endured something of the sort?

“Oh, Christ, don’t!” Kilbane snapped, his expression fierce now, the violet eyes flashing. “Don’t pity me. I have no use for such saccharine sentiments. If you want to fuck, I’m all for it, but don’t give me your bleeding heart.”

Lucian controlled his feature, the icy mask firmly back in place, furious with himself for allowing it to slip, and aghast that Kilbane of all men had managed to provoke it. Matilda was right, the boy deserved their pity, but she was wrong that there was anything left in him to save. The rot was too deep, too ingrained. Tragic as it may be, there would be no saving him, for he did not wish to be saved.

“Get out,” Lucian said, his voice cold.

Kilbane smiled an unpleasant but satisfied smile. He swept a theatrical bow, mocking to the last.

“It’s been a pleasure, Montagu, not the delicious pleasure I had hoped for it’s true, but a pleasure, nonetheless. I wonder where I might find your wife?”

He walked away, the sound of his low laughter echoing down the long gallery as he went.

Chapter 10

Dear Aggie,

I am looking forward to seeing you at the garden party. It’s been an age since we’ve all been together. We are all staying at Dern. Will you be there for the entire weekend? I have some excellent books for you, and I have done a drawing of an owl which I am rather pleased with. I thought you might like it as you were so pleased with the rabbit last time.

Felix and Emmeline Knight will be there too, though perhaps Felix will be too grand for us, now he’s turned eighteen? Do you think he’ll still want to build a fort in the woods? He was always the best at it, and we shall have to work hard without his skills. You will help too, won’t you?

Jacob Carmichael (Viscount Ridley) is coming too, but I swear if he keeps making sheep's eyes at Torie, I shall draw his cork.

Oh, but for heaven’s sake, don’t let Cat lead you into mischief. You know what she is for causing trouble.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Lord Frederick Adolphus (younger son of Robert and Prunella Adolphus, Their Graces, The Duke and Duchess of Bedwin) to Miss Agatha Smith.

10th July 1842, The Marchioness of Montagu’s Garden Party, Dern Palace, Sevenoaks, Kent.