Page 53 of A Daring Desire

Cat held out her hands to him, and he took them, holding them within his own. “I shan’t apologise for it, so don’t expect me to,” she said, gazing up at him.

He gave a soft laugh and lifted her hands, kissing first one and then the other. Cat smiled and turned back to see a softer light in her mother’s eyes, though her father still looked murderous. Ah well, it was a start.

Kilbane eyed her father as her mother gently but firmly got him to escort her from the room, and the door closed behind them.

Cat turned back to him, smiling.

“I’m so proud of you.”

He frowned, his dark brows tugging together. “Don’t say that, not when I have done nothing to deserve it.”

“But you have,” she insisted. “You came here tonight, even though you hated every moment of it, and you faced my parents, and you were honest. So, I am proud of you. You cannot stop me, you know.”

“Oh, that much I have surmised, not being a half-wit,” he said dryly. “I don’t think anything less than an act of God could stop you, my Lady Kilbane.”

She moved closer, smoothing down his lapels with the palms of her hands. “Well, and at last you are coming to know me,” she said softly, and lifted her face to his. “I should like you to know me well, Ciarán.”

Chapter 16

Dearest Hart,

I am so proud of you for all you have achieved. The sketches you sent of your plans for Beresford are quite stunning. I cannot wait to visit and see the results of your hard work. I must admit it troubles me you are working for such a man. The duke is not well liked, Bedwin barely deigns to even acknowledge him, if that gives you a clue.

I knew his wife and sincerely pitied her. A pretty little thing, far younger than her husband and so obviously terrified of him, I wished I could have helped her. She died bringing their youngest son into the world. Rufus, I believe. Have you met him? I know your opinion of Richmond well enough, a vile creature. He’s been dangling after Cat these past weeks, though I believe she has his measure.

I think there are two daughters, though I have only met the elder, Lady Fidelia, briefly. She put me very much in mind of her mother. I believe she missed the season because of ill health, but I know no more about it than that. Her younger sister, Narcissa, made her debut last year and caused quite a stir. A beautiful girl with an impressive dowry.

Though it infuriates me that odious man should treat you as a common labourer, I cannot help but be glad you are not staying at the house. You would have hated dining so formally, for the duke is a high stickler and everything done on a grand scale. Have a care in your dealings there, my dearest boy. You must tread carefully around Beresford and his family. I know tact is a foreign concept to you, but for heaven’s sake, try.

―Excerpt of a letter to Mr Hartley De Beauvoir, from his mother, Mrs Minerva De Beauvoir.

9th January 1850, The Countess St Clair’s New Year’s Ball, St James’s, London.

“I should like you to know me well, Ciarán.”

Kilbane stilled, staring down at his wife, shocked to hear that name upon her lips.

“No one has called me that for a very long time,” he said, uncertain how he felt about it.

“Do you mind it?” she asked.

He looked down into eyes of silvery grey, like falling into a soft morning mist as her affection wrapped around him, gentle but all-encompassing.

“I don’t know,” he said as memories surfaced from the dark corners he’d consigned them to. “Ciarán was a boy, a child, and an unhappy one at that.”

Compassion shone in her eyes, and he looked away, unsettled by it. She wrapped her arms about him and pressed close, her head upon his shoulder. Touched and a little unnerved, Kilbane put his arms around her and rested his head atop hers, the soft curls tickling his chin.

“Have you ever been happy?” she asked.

He considered this, trying to remember a time when he could say he’d been happy. “When my father and brother left for town and I knew I would be alone for months, that felt like happiness,” he said cautiously. “Like a great weight had been lifted and I could breathe again.”

“Oh, my love,” she said, hugging him tighter.

“What?” he looked down at her, puzzled.

“An absence of tyranny isn’t happiness.”

He shrugged. “But I could spend all my days in the library before a fire, eating cake and reading. I was certainly content enough.”