Page 24 of A Daring Desire

“You must have had quite a time of it after I left,” he said, the words indifferent even as something cold and angry twisted in his chest. “Abandoned by a man like me, I suppose you became a target for all the dissipated swine of the ton.”

A gentle smile curved her mouth, something like understanding in her eyes. “With my father around?” she replied, lifting one elegant eyebrow.

“Surely he couldn’t always be there?” Kilbane said, though something like gratitude flooded his system. He had always assumed as much but still… a worry he had never allowed himself to acknowledge faded somewhat.

Her smile dimmed a little, and his anxiety returned tenfold, muscles tensing as she went back to her letter. “Not always,” she agreed.

“Who?” the demand was hard and angry and took him as much by surprise as it did her.

She turned in her chair, regarding him curiously. “It’s of no matter. I never was quite the child you believed me to be, but I am certainly not now. I can take care of myself. There is not the least need for you to worry over me.”

“I am not worrying over you,” he snapped, irritated at the accusation. “I want to know who had the temerity to insult my wife.”

She stared at him, and he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. The cruel bastard who had abandoned her? The man who had ruined her life? Or something else?

He watched her warily as she got to her feet, the letter in her hand. She moved to the bed, skirts and petticoats whispering tantalising secrets as she moved. His breath caught as she bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you, my lord, but I won’t have you upset yourself whilst you are so out of sorts. Get some sleep now, you look worn out.”

She straightened and walked from the bed, heading for the door.

“I’m not upset,” he called after her. “I’m bloody annoyed, and I don’t want to go to sleep…! Damn you, Catherine, come back here!”

But she closed the door quietly behind her, leaving him seething and unsettled and furious to discover he was too tired to do anything but close his eyes.

Later in the afternoon, Cat made her way back to her husband’s room. She turned the handle, peering in to discover him sound asleep. A little disappointed, she resolved to come back again in an hour and was about to return to her own room when she heard a disturbance downstairs in the front hall. Jefferies’ voice reached her, then quick footsteps hurried up the stairs and Cat stared in surprise as her father turned the corner, striding towards her.

“Papa!” she said in alarm, her heart dropping to her satin slippers at the incandescent glitter of fury in his eyes.

“What the devil did you mean by that letter?” he demanded, looking more furious than she had ever seen him.

Cat swallowed but put up her chin. “Just what I said,” she replied, with a calm tone she was far from feeling.

“Where is he?”

“That’s no concern of yours.”

He sent her a look of outrage. “I will see about that.”

Cat shook her head and grasped her father’s arm as he turned towards the master bedroom.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, a little daunted by the force of her own anger.

He stilled, staring at her in shock.

“You say this to me?” he said in outrage, hurt and confusion in his eyes. “After what he did?”

“Papa, you forget yourself,” she said, wondering at her own courage, or possibly idiocy, in speaking to him so. “If you wish to discuss this calmly, you may come into my rooms, but I will not entertain the servants with a scene.”

She turned her back on her father’s astonished face and walked into her bedroom, leaving him to follow if he wished. Cat took a deep, shaky breath and let it out again, hoping to still her agitated heart, but she knew her father would not act in such a way if it were anyone else but her causing him such upset. Normally with her father, the more powerful the emotion, the less he showed it, but Cat had always upset his equilibrium by getting herself into ridiculous scrapes.

“What are you playing at, you little fool?” he demanded, the moment he had closed the door.

“I am tending to my husband, who has been grievously ill,” she replied with dignity.

“Your husband,” her father repeated in disgust. “That man is no more your husband than Jefferies. Less, for he’s never had the slightest care for you.”

“Why should he have?” Cat said placidly. “He never wanted me. He never wanted a wife at all. I did not know it then, but he had sworn never to marry, that the line should end with him, and I upset all his plans. Do you think he ought to thank me for that?”