Page 20 of A Daring Desire

“Yes, my lord,” Berrycloth said, quite unabashed. “And I shall leave you to Lady Kilbane rather than allow you to berate me for it.”

“Turncoat,” Kilbane grumbled as Berrycloth sent Cat an amused glance.

“I’ll be back at midnight,” he said softly.

“Damn you, I do not need babysitting!” his lordship expostulated, and then rather spoiled the effect of this pronouncement by dissolving into a coughing fit that left him wheezing and exhausted.

“That,” Cat said severely, “is what you get by behaving like a great baby. You are as weak as a newborn foal and a very long way from well, so I shall have no more of this protesting and demanding brandy when you cannot even serve yourself with a glass of water, and don’t go giving poor Mr Berrycloth the evil eye for tattling on you. I know very well your pride is smarting and you wish me to the devil, but you very nearly died and scared us all beyond enduring, so you can jolly well tolerate it, and me!”

Kilbane’s only reply was a volcanic look that promised retribution. Cat let out a breath, remembering too late she had promised herself to be patient and cautious. Well, so much for that.

“Good luck,” Berrycloth murmured and left her alone with her husband.

She turned back to him and sighed. “I beg your pardon,” she said contritely. “I can only imagine how wretched and cross you feel, but I have worked very hard to keep you alive and if you go undoing all my good work I shall—”

She compressed her lips before she could let her tongue run away with her and say more than she ought.

“Kill me?” he suggested mildly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

He made a darkly amused sound but seemed rather less furious, so she relaxed a little. “Well, if you promise not to eat me for opening my mouth, I came to tell you, you have a visitor.”

His eyes darted to hers, his brows tugging together. “Get rid of them,” he said.

She smiled at that. “I ought to explain. It isn’t a social call, but your devoted valet. A Mr Jones. He seems to have got wind of your arrival, though I cannot fathom how, and has given his notice, packed his bags and awaits your decision upon his fate, the poor man. I think he may throw himself into the Thames if you cast him off.”

“Jones?” Kilbane said in surprise, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips for a moment before he darted a glance at Cat, as if to check she hadn’t seen it. He cleared his throat. “Well, I need a valet. He may as well stay.”

There was a deal too much nonchalance behind the remark and Cat hid her amusement, certain that he was pleased indeed to have been remembered so fondly and with such fidelity.

“Excellent. In that case, we have another pair of hands to babysit you,” she remarked, well aware she was playing with fire.

His expression darkened. “Jones and Berrycloth can manage. There is not the least need to put you to any trouble.”

“Oh, no trouble at all, my lord. For what else should a devoted wife do but tend to her husband in his hour of need?”

“Listen, you vexing creature, you know very well that you are my wife in name only and… and the less you have to do with me, the better for both of us.”

“So you say now,” she said sweetly. “But you are the one who turned up on my doorstep, half dead and in need of my care.”

The blush that stained his hard features shocked her more than she could say, and she knew she would pay for having seen it.

“I was delirious,” he bit out, looking as if he wanted to murder her with his bare hands. “I had no idea what I was about, and this is my home, and has been all my life.”

“Yes, of course,” Cat soothed. “Though it’s strange, because Mr Berrycloth told me this was your destination from the outset and yet you didn’t lose your wits until you were in England, but no doubt he misunderstood.”

She shot him a deceptively sweet smile, holding his furious gaze until she felt scorched, but he looked away first.

“Send Jones up,” Kilbane commanded. “And go away.”

“Yes, my dear,” Cat replied, getting to her feet, and then daring to reach out and brush a thick lock of hair from his forehead. “And I beg your pardon. I ought not to make you cross when you are so poorly. I shan’t tease you anymore, I promise. Get some rest, and I shall visit with you tomorrow. Goodnight, my lord.”

Kilbane watched her go, seething with irritation and indignation and… and other things he did not care to name. The moment she was gone he was furious with her for leaving, for there were a dozen choice things he wished he’d said to her that he’d not had the wit to do when she was ringing a peal over him. How dare she? The audacious chit. And yet when he remembered her standing over him, giving him the sharp side of her tongue, he could only smile, amused by her furious outburst.

Not long after, Mr Jones marched into the room just as though he’d left it only five minutes earlier rather than five years, but checked himself on the threshold, the colour leaving his face as he stared at his master.

“My lord,” he said faintly.