Page 40 of A Daring Desire

Berrycloth got up, heading purposely towards the door of his office. “Why, his sister, of course.”

Kilbane stared unseeingly at the fire in the hearth as he wondered how the devil he was supposed to get anywhere near his wife again. He knew very well the kind of welcome he would receive at Dern and had no intention of letting Catherine watch her father throw him out on his ear. His pride had suffered enough of late, what with being wrongfully imprisoned and treated like a common criminal and then arriving on his wife’s doorstep out of his mind with fever. Embarrassment crawled up the back of his neck as he considered the things he might have said at the height of his delirium, and at the knowledge that she had still been willing to care for him after everything he’d done. That she had still looked upon him with kindness and affection, even after seeing him brought so low, made shame and humility burn in his chest. It was a new and most unpleasant sensation.

He eyed the bottle of brandy sitting on his desk and reminded himself he wasn’t drinking today. Not until this evening, at least. He needed to think. Catherine had told him she would be waiting for him, but that she would not wait forever. Five years had been enough. He frowned, wondering how she had borne it if she really did care for him. She had left him only two weeks ago, and he was already wretchedly miserable. That she had something resembling fondness for him was something he had to believe now, as difficult as it was to comprehend, though that she could love him, he still would not credit. But he had seen affection in her eyes, felt her care for him it in the way she had kissed him, which, naturally, had scared him out of his wits and made him bollocks the whole thing up.

Groaning, he put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair as regret sank his spirits lower. God, that kiss. If he’d not been such a damned fool, he could have kept kissing her, he could have enjoyed Christmas with her, he could have shared her bed and made her his wife in more than just name, as any man with an ounce of sense would have done. But not him. No, instead he’d brought ruin and destruction as he always did, this time damaging something he had not known the value of until it was too late, and she’d left him.

She’d told him he must prove himself, prove to her that he truly wanted a life with her and would never again break her heart, and he wanted to. He wanted to prove that to her so badly he felt the pain of it in his chest like a weight. But he had not the slightest idea how. How could he prove himself to be anything other than the miserable, dissolute bastard he was? Everything he touched crumbled. The few times he had ever allowed himself to care, the objects of his affection had been snatched from him. If he did this, if he showed her how much he wanted her, and it wasn’t enough… A sensation like iced water running down his back had him sending the brandy bottle another longing glance, but he steeled himself against it.

She could not remain at Dern indefinitely. Eventually, she would appear in society and… and then what? Bearing in mind, he was not exactly a welcome addition to any respectable hostesses’ invitation list it may be no easier to get close to her.

He dug his fingers harder into his hair in frustration and looked up sharply when the door opened, his heart leaping, only to plummet again when he saw his visitor in the doorway.

“Well, you need not look so bereft,” Aggie said, regarding him with impatience. “It’s your own stupid fault it’s not your wife coming to visit you.”

“If you’ve come to berate me, please don’t trouble yourself. I am well aware of everything I’ve ever done wrong, and I do not need you to fling them in my face, I promise you,” he said, attempting to sound furious, and yet heartened by the fact she had come at all.

Aggie came in and tsked at the disorder in the room. She moved around, tidying discarded books and papers that he’d attempted to read to distract himself, only to give up a few minutes later when his mind returned to his wife like a compass seeking north. Once she was satisfied, she sat down in the chair opposite his, regarding him steadily.

“You’re still speaking to me, then?” he ventured, wondering if she was just waiting for her moment before telling him what a monumental arsehole he was.

“So it would seem.” Her gaze did not falter, and he shifted uneasily.

“Did… Did Catherine write to you?”

“Yes, actually, though that’s not why I’m here. I was on my way out the door when her letter arrived.”

“Then who told you?” he asked, frowning.

“Mr Bancroft.”

Kilbane snorted. “Oh, yes. I can imagine he was keen to tell you of my cruelty, of how I reduced her to crying her heart out.” He let out a breath of cynical laughter. “My indomitable girl. She survived all those years alone, and I wrecked her in a matter of days. Quite a skill, that, don’t you think?”

“Oh, fustian,” Aggie said in disgust. “Stop wallowing in misery and tell me what you mean to do to get her back.”

Kilbane stiffened, glaring at her. “I am not wallowing—”

She waved this away. “Yes, you are. Not that I blame you entirely. Life has not treated you kindly, I know. I don’t doubt you’ve had a wretched time of it, for I asked my father to find out about your family—my family—for me. Well, my father has had about the worst childhood anyone could ever dream of, far worse than mine, and yet he sincerely pitied you when he discovered what delightful creatures your father and elder brother were. Good God, Kilbane, no wonder you went to the devil. The wonder of it is that you didn’t lose yourself entirely. I truly had no idea how bad things had been for you.”

Kilbane felt the colour drain from his face, his guts tying themselves in a knot. The idea that anyone should pity him, let alone the Comte de Villen, made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Oh, don’t poker up,” Aggie said, rolling her eyes. “We’ve all got our trials and our secrets, but we’re family, remember? That miserable excuse for a man was my real father, too. We’re in this together.”

“Together?” Kilbane repeated in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Aggie’s expression softened. “No,” she said gently. “I don’t suppose you do, but I’m going to help you. Or rather, we are going to help you,” she amended.

Kilbane only stared at her blankly. “We? Whatever do you mean?”

Aggie turned her head and shouted towards the door. “Come in!”

Kilbane turned, startled when not only his secretary came in, but Mr Bancroft.

“What the devil is he doing here?” he demanded, surging to his feet and glaring at Bancroft as he remembered seeing Cat held in the man’s embrace.

“I’ve come to help!” the young man said, holding out his hands in a peaceable gesture, his eyes wide with anxiety. To Kilbane’s surprise, Mr Berrycloth stepped between them, staring up at him.

“My lord. I believe we may have misconstrued the relationship between Mr Bancroft and your wife. Indeed, it appears it is very much as I suggested it was. Her ladyship used her friendship with Mr Bancroft and the scandal sheets to create a rumour, in the hopes of bringing you home.”