Page 70 of A Daring Desire

She blinked hard, afraid she might turn into a watering pot, which would be inconvenient if he wanted to kiss her again, which she rather hoped he might.

“I love you too,” she managed, her voice quavering a little.

He did kiss her again, much to her approval, until Mrs Clifford came out and shouted from the front door. “Lord Kilbane, put that poor girl down, she’ll catch a chill. Come inside, do, there’ll be time for billing and cooing later, I don’t doubt.”

Chapter 21

Leo,

Thanks for nothing. A pity your letter did not reach me a few hours earlier. Only Muir seems to have escaped unscathed, the slippery bastard. He’s like a damned cat, always landing on his feet.

I pity any man that ever served under my father. My ears are still ringing, and I don’t expect them to stop for the foreseeable. How he still has the ability to make me feel like I’m in short trousers after all these years, I cannot fathom. However, I have been given my orders, ‘to get my house in order’ to ‘find a suitable bride’ and ‘stop spending my blunt and my time with the muslin company’. In short, my old pal, we’re to grow up and behave ourselves, or there’ll be the devil to pay.

Lars.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Right Hon’ble Larkin Weston (son of Solomon and Jemima Weston, Baron and Baroness Rothborn) to Mr Leo Hunt (son of Mr and Mrs Nathanial and Alice Hunt).

14th January 1850, Butterwell Lane, near Holbrook

Cat thought, if she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the sight of her elegant father ordered with some force by the redoubtable Mrs Clifford to, “Sit down and have a cup of tea before I’m quite out of patience with you.”

Once her father was reluctantly settled with a glass of brandy, having refused tea under any circumstances, Mrs Clifford sat herself down and poured for the rest of them.

“Well, and I’m glad I’ve been given the chance to put a few things straight. I’ve longed and longed to do so, I can tell you, but no one listens to a woman like me, of course,” she said, handing Cat and Ciarán their cups and giving an indignant sniff. “But I’ve got you here now and you’ll stay until I’ve done,” she added, sending Cat’s father a look that promised retribution otherwise.

To give him his due, her father seemed to have lost the murderous glare and was watching the lady with interest, apparently quite prepared to hear her out. Cat let out a breath of relief and shifted closer to Ciarán on the love seat they’d been propelled to, reaching for his hand.

He looked wretchedly uncomfortable and whilst the lady was clearly not his mistress, Cat realised that there was to be a revelation from her, and that he would rather have died than allow anyone to hear it.

“There now,” Mrs Clifford said, once everyone was settled to her satisfaction. She broke off a piece of shortbread and fed it to the fat pug, who had taken up position at her feet, drooling.

“Well, I know present company won’t bandy my name about and will keep anything I say here in confidence, so I shall speak frankly and pray you’ll forgive me for it. The fact is, I’m not Mrs Clifford, I’ve never been married a day in my life. The Mrs is just for show, and the only reason I am able to make a show of respectability is because of the kindness of Lord Kilbane here.”

“He keeps you?” Montagu said tightly.

“Yes, he does,” Mrs Clifford replied sharply. “But not for the reasons you are thinking.”

She met him glare for glare until he relented and waved a hand. “I apologise for the interruption. Pray do continue.”

“Thank you, my lord. The plain fact is that I was a housemaid at Graymont Park, which is where the previous Lord Kilbane spent the summers and where our lord here was born and raised. I began there when I was fifteen. Lord Kilbane was only ten at the time, and I tell you I never pitied any boy more, before or since.”

“Louisa,” Ciarán said sharply.

Mrs Clifford looked back at him, her expression stern. “Don’t you Louisa me. I’ll tell my story how I want to and there’s not a thing you can do about it. That was a house of horrors you lived in, and we both know it.”

“I think we have heard stories enough about the goings on at Graymont Park without the need for sullying my daughter’s ears with the tales.”

“Undoubtedly,” Ciarán agreed at once.

Cat glanced at Mrs Clifford and rolled her eyes, which made the lady smile. “Well, in any case, to begin with, I worked below stairs, so I was safe enough, as I never caught the eye of his father and brother. I saw little of his lordship either, but all the staff knew about him, poor boy. We knew his hiding places and those of us with a heart and a conscience would leave food for him in places where we knew he’d find it. No one dared to do more, for his father was a high stickler and punished any familiarity between staff and his son with dismissal. I saw him, though, running about the grounds by himself, and my heart ached for how lonely he was.”

Ciarán was rigid with mortification beside her. Cat squeezed his hand, but he wouldn’t look at her.

“Anyway, the short version of the story is that I couldn’t let the poor thing alone. I found all the places he used to hide and would take him a piece of cake or something before I went to bed at night, and we became friends. Well, I was a pretty little thing then, and it was hardly surprising how a lonely boy should fall head over ears in love with a girl a few years older and wiser than he was.” Mrs Clifford paused, glancing at Cat. “You don’t mind it, do you, my lady? It was only calf love, as I knew very well myself, even then.”

“Mrs Clifford, I could hug you for the kindness you did my husband,” Cat said frankly, her voice a little unsteady.

The lady returned a smile of approval. “I knew you were a sensible woman. Well, stands to reason, for you saw the good in him right away, despite his best efforts, I don’t doubt,” she added with a wry expression.