Page 71 of A Daring Desire

“You may be sure of that,” Cat replied with a soft laugh, turning to Ciarán, who was scowling.

“I am here,” he grumbled irritably.

“Well, by the time I turned eighteen, I’d caught the eye of his father and brother. I had no male kin to protect me, and the rest of the staff were too afraid for their jobs. I tried my best to keep my head down, and the housekeeper tried to help by keeping me below stairs again. The old Lord Kilbane meant to have me, though, and only that fact kept Lord Richard from touching me. A nasty piece of work, he was. It came to a head later that year when Lord Ciarán turned fourteen. He heard…. Well, there’s no point in dressing the truth in clean linen. He heard my protestations when his father tried to take me by force and he protected me, young though he was. His lordship got a beating that laid him in bed for almost two weeks. I knew then it was hopeless. If I left, I’d have no reference of recommendation, and if I tried to keep my virtue poor Lord Ciarán would suffer for it. I decided to accept my position as Lord Kilbane’s mistress on my own terms and tell Lord Ciarán it was what I wanted, that I liked the idea of living in luxury instead of scrimping and saving. I knew my decision would hurt him but… but I never realised….”

At this, the lady’s face crumpled, and she searched ineffectually for a handkerchief. Cat had already resorted to using her own and before her father could reach for his, Ciarán had stood and pressed his into her hand, which she accepted gratefully.

“Don’t upset yourself, Louisa,” he said gently. “I was only a foolish child, and it was all so long ago now.”

She reached for his hand and clasped it while she steadied herself and looked up at him with brimming eyes. “I never forgave myself for the hurt I inflicted, for what I did to you. If I had known the path it would set you on, I would never—”

Ciarán snatched his hand away. “Stop this,” he said in disgust. “My actions were my own. You did nothing.”

“I broke your poor heart and disillusioned you,” Mrs Clifford shouted back angrily. “You were sweet and kind and you believed in love and I gave myself into that monster’s keeping, telling you I wanted the jewels and the pretty clothes more than I wanted a life with you. It wasn’t true and I swear I did it for the best, but—”

“Enough!” he shouted, twin flags of colour cresting his cheeks. Muttering a curse, he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Cat rose to her feet, intending to follow but Mrs Clifford stopped her. “No, wait. Let him go. He’ll walk off his anger and come back. It’s his pride smarting, you must see that. But I need to tell you the rest.”

Subsiding with reluctance, Cat resumed her seat. “Very well.”

“I wrote and asked Lord Kilbane to visit me this week, because I had something of his. The night before I made my decision, he wrote me a letter, such a beautiful letter, declaring his love for me. He begged me to run away with him, saying we could go to Gretna Green and be married. The sweet boy said he’d give everything up and work to keep me, for he’d rather live with me and be poor as a church mouse than spend another night in that house. When I refused him, he was distraught. He went to his father’s study and stole his gold signet ring, for the old lord couldn’t wear it anymore, his fingers were too fat. Lord Ciarán gave it to me and promised me to make it into a lovely wedding band, and that he would give me jewels and fine dresses as soon as he could, if only I would be patient.”

“Oh, the poor lamb,” Cat said, blowing her nose furiously as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Even after I refused him, he told me to keep the ring safe, hidden, in case I ever needed it. Today, I gave him the letter back, and the ring,” Mrs Clifford said. “Now he was married it didn’t seem right to keep them and I feared if anything happened to me, it might cause trouble for him.”

“You are very good, Mrs Clifford,” Cat managed, shaking her head.

“Not so good as all that,” Mrs Clifford replied with a wry smile. “I was with the old lord until his death. Lord Ciarán was wrong about that, at least. I was the old devil’s favourite mistress, for I had a sharp tongue and wit enough to know how to deal with him. I avoided the worst of him and refused to take part in his vile parties. When he died, I thought I would be well enough, for I had a tidy sum put aside, but… well, the stupid thing is that I finally fell in love, but with the wrong man.” She gave a rueful sigh. “A gamester. He stole most everything I had, and I was a fair way to being destitute when Lord Ciarán came for me. For I never would sell the ring he gave me, it didn’t seem right. Little did I know it he’d kept track of me and my whereabouts, and as soon he knew what trouble I was in, he came like a knight of old and rescued me.”

“He bought this cottage for you?” Cat guessed, blinking hard.

Mrs Clifford nodded. “And settled a tidy sum on me. Enough to allow me to live very comfortably indeed.” She turned to Cat’s father, who had been listening silently. “You see, Lord Montagu? If not for me refusing him, he’d not have started down the road he did. I was older and wiser and a deal less romantic than he was. I knew there was no future for us, that he would regret marrying so far beneath him, but I broke his young heart, made him think that there was no such thing as love and kindness if a girl he believed was good and honest and cared for him could be bought for the promise of jewels and dresses. He was never unkind to me, even when his father paraded me in front of him like some painted whore, never once did he speak to me with anything less than respect, but he changed after that. He let no one near him, let no one see the boy I had known. Over the years, he became harder and more callous until I hardly recognised him, but I always believed he was still there, underneath it all, if only someone could reach him.”

“Papa,” Cat said, her voice far from steady. “He’s not who you think he is. I know he has done wrong in the past, but he was lost.”

“Until you found him,” Mrs Clifford said with a wistful sigh. “When I heard of his marriage and the way he left you, I was so close to getting on the next boat to Paris and going to give him a piece of my mind, I cannot tell you. But I was afraid of travelling alone and I don’t have a word of French, so I didn’t dare.”

Cat smiled, deciding she liked Mrs Clifford a good deal. She turned her attention back to her father. “Papa?”

He sighed and sent her a long-suffering look. “I know you are no fool, Catherine, but I have always deplored your fascination with Lord Kilbane. I could see you running headlong into danger, and you did just as I feared. I understand the circumstances that put him on the path he trod, and I pity him sincerely for all of it, but a man makes his own decisions.”

“Papa,” Cat protested, but her father shot her a look that silenced her.

“I do not trust him. I do not believe he has mended his ways and I fear he will hurt you. However, I am prepared to be persuaded. You need not fear us meeting. I will be civil, and I know your mother is desperate for you both to visit us at Dern. She is a good deal kinder and more forgiving than I am. I pray your husband never disillusions either of you, for I will not be responsible for the consequences,” he said, and the glittering look in his eyes made a chill skitter down her back. “However, I will give him the chance you wish for.”

Cat let out a sigh of relief and smiled at her father, knowing that this was an enormous concession on his part when his instinct to protect her and her mother was such that he abhorred the slightest risk of upsetting either of them.

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “If you’ll excuse me. I’d like to go after him.”

“You go ahead, my dear,” Mrs Clifford said warmly. “Go and kiss him until he feels better,” she advised sternly, a recommendation Cat was wholly prepared to support.

She found him around the back of the cottage. The gardener had taken the horses around to a small barn and settled them inside, out of the wind. Ciarán was stroking her father’s temperamental stallion, whose big head was nudging at him gently, asking for more attention.

“Well, I never,” she said with a smile. “Brutus won’t tolerate anyone but Papa usually. His head groom says he’s possessed by an evil spirit. You have magic hands, I think.”

“You ought to know,” he said, an amused glint in his eyes.