Page 38 of To Dare the Devil

“Hmph.” She tapped her walking stick on the stone floor. “This won’t do. I can’t have you two underfoot like sulky boys the entire day. Not with him looking like some brooding poet.” She waved an arthritic hand at Louis. “Far too distracting. I’ve called the carriage.”

“Whatever for?” Barnaby demanded, eyeing the deluge outside the castle walls with consternation.

“Well, if I must have this beautiful creature under my roof, I may as well have some fun. You’re leaving anyway, so I’m going with you to Fort William. Not been there in a decade or more. About time I did some shopping, I reckon. Monsieur can give me the benefit of his exquisite eye, as he seems to have made a gentleman of you at long last, Barnaby. If he can manage such Herculean feats, he can choose me some new outfits for a summer wardrobe in town. Then we shall see. At the very least, it should set a few tongues wagging,” she said, her expression bright with mischief.

“I should be honoured to assist you, my lady,” Louis replied.

“Just so,” Aunt Hester said thoughtfully, watching Louis with a frown. “Perhaps then I’ll get to the bottom of why you’re really here. I suspect a woman. Escaping a bloodthirsty husband, are we? A duel?”

“Nothing so exciting, I assure you,” Louis replied, lips quirking a little.

The old woman narrowed her eyes, looking unconvinced. “Hmm. I smell a scandal brewing, and I mean to know what’s going on. We’ll eat in The Prince’s House.”

Barnaby saw Louis’ startled expression and grinned. “It’s just a coaching inn, named for the Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

“Ah,” Louis said with polite interest. “I understand.”

“We’ll bring our own bonnie comte instead,” Aunt Hester said with a cackle of laughter. “Come along then. I’ve told that valet of yours to get cracking and pack so you’ll be free tomorrow, monsieur. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.

She stalked out again, imperious as ever.

“Sorry,” Barnaby said, wincing.

Louis waved this away. “One more day is of no matter. She has been hospitable when she’d no need to be. If this amuses her, I am happy to oblige.”

“Hospitable,” Barnaby murmured faintly. “Is that what’s she’s been? Ah, well.”

18th June 1842, Church Street, Isleworth, London.

“Miss de Beauvoir, there’s a gentleman to see you.”

Kathy looked up, hearing the excitedly flustered note in the maid’s voice, and instantly knew who it was. Jenny was pink-cheeked, her eyes alight with exhilaration.

“Lord Vane, I collect,” she said, setting down her quill.

Jenny gave a nod and stifled a giggle. Kathy sighed, but could hardly blame the girl, who was young and had a romantic streak a mile wide. A man like Lord Vane appearing on the doorstep was the beginning of any young girl’s wildest dreams.

“Well, ask him to come in then, please.”

“Ought I stay with you, for propriety?” the girl asked hopefully.

Kathy narrowed her eyes at the maid. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. It is a business matter, and I shall leave the door ajar.”

Jenny bobbed a curtsey and hurried away. Kathy tidied her papers and got up, too aware of the ink on her hands and her hair escaping its pins. She had a bad habit of putting her fingers through it and disarranging it when she was thinking. Still, she smoothed her skirts and stood, waiting for his lordship to enter.

Though she’d had a moment to ready herself, it had not prepared her to see him in her home. His imposing frame filled the doorway, making the room seem suddenly far smaller than it had just seconds before. She was used to seeing him out of doors, or among the vast proportions of Vane Hall, or in a lavish ballroom. Though her parents’ home was everything that was elegant and modern, it was far from a palace. He seemed wildly out of place here, and her breath caught, her heart skittering in her chest.

“My lord, this is an unexpected pleasure,” she said, aware she sounded breathless and praying he did not realise how nervous he made her.

“I hope I am not disturbing you,” he said, turning his hat in his hands, which Jenny had forgotten to take from him, Kathy noted with irritation.

“Not at all. Here, let me take that,” she said, hurrying to retrieve it and his gloves and set them aside. “May I offer you some tea?”

“Oh, no. I don’t wish to take up too much of your time, only…. You mentioned the workhouse here in Isleworth. The conditions are not satisfactory, you said. I was wondering if I might help? If we might do something about that?”

Kathy stared at him and her already over-excited heart fluttered in the way romantic poems and stories always described. Perhaps it was the ‘we’ that did it. It was ridiculous, and she knew it. But there he was, standing there looking so handsome and earnest, and remembering her rant about the conditions in the workhouse when she had been so dreadfully rude to him, and offering to help anyway. It was a wonder she didn’t swoon. She almost wanted to hit him, or swear, because really, what chance did a girl have when he went about looking like that and being all noble and kind? What was the point of even trying not to fall in love with him? It was hopeless.

“What did you have in mind?”