Page 37 of To Dare the Devil

Kathy blinked, feeling heat suffuse her from head to toe. “Your…?” she pressed, holding her breath.

“My… desire for you,” he bit out. “I don’t blame you for running away. I ought never to have forced you to dance with me.”

“You didn’t force me. I asked you,” she said faintly. He desired her. He desired her.

“Yes, and immediately regretted it,” he snapped. “That much was obvious. I ought to have refused and let you go, but as usual I put my own bloody wants first, disregarding what was best for you. So for that, I apologise. Please, assure yourself that I shan’t take advantage again.”

“You won’t?” she said, realising too late that she sounded rather crestfallen. “You won’t,” she said again, nodding vigorously. This was good, she reminded herself. Her own desire for him was undermining her, making her want to give into temptation, but she needed to feel safe around him and if he was determined to behave himself, she had half a chance. If he could behave, then she certainly could. But there was no need for him to keep feeling guilty and wretched when there was no reason for it.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked stiffly, not looking at her, clearly expecting an answer he wouldn’t like.

“I do,” she said softly. She did not dare tell him there was nothing to forgive, that she had been in a far worse state than he. Oh, no. Too dangerous for them both.

His gaze snapped to hers, his expression so relieved she felt her throat tighten. “You do?”

She nodded, smiling at him. “I really did have a headache, and… and I should like to call a truce.”

“A truce?”

“Yes,” she said, laughing. “And do stop repeating everything I say.”

To her surprise, he coloured a little, but held his tongue.

“I think I have been rather hard on you, Lord Vane, and I should like it very much if we might consider ourselves… allies.”

“Allies,” he murmured, staring at her. “Dash it, I did it again, didn’t I?”

Kathy giggled.

He grinned at her, and her heart turned over.

“I should like that,” he said. “Thank you.”

Chapter 12

Dearest Aggie,

It was so lovely to have you stay with us these past two weeks. I was sorry you had to return to school, and miss you already. I hope you’ll come again soon. For the next holiday, perhaps?

I am so pleased you heard from your guardian. I know you have been worrying about him, and the presents he sent sound delicious. I’m sure the other girls must have been fighting to be friends with you. Not that they should do anything else. You are the very best of friends. I cannot wait for us to make our come out together. Monsieur Le Comte intends for you to come out in society, doesn’t he? We shall set the ton on their ears!

You’ll never guess what. You remember I told you the mysterious author of The Ghosts of Castle Madruzzo has published a new book? Well, Thorn was home at the weekend, and he left a copy behind, for which I shall write and tell him he is the very best of brothers. But not before I’ve read it, because I very much doubt he did it on purpose. He’ll be bound to tell Papa to confiscate it at once because it’s very dreadful. It’s called The Devil and the Maiden and it’s about an impoverished young woman who lives with her aunt on a neglected estate. Everyone believes the lord of the manor is mad and living abroad until he returns out of the blue! Oh, Aggie, it’s marvellous, and the wicked nobleman quite puts me in mind of Lord Kilbane, all that brooding menace and dark good looks. I cannot wait to see how it ends.

―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington (daughter of Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Most Hon’ble Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu) to Miss Agatha Smith (Ward of Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen).

18th June 1842, Wick, The Highlands, Scotland.

“I’m so sorry it’s been a waste of time. I did warn you,” Barnaby said, watching Louis as he stared out of the window at a day that had begun with fog and was now progressing through various stages of mizzle, drizzle, showers, and the occasional downpour. Thank God they were leaving tomorrow.

Louis glanced back at him and smiled. “So you did.”

The smile did not fool Barnaby. The poor devil was wretched, and who could blame him? They had made a few excursions to places it was likely Evie might visit during her stay here, but luck had not been with them. And now the weather, which had been unsettled the entire time but not so terribly dismal, must do this. Why his Great-Aunt Hester persisted in living here in this godforsaken place, especially when it must aggravate her rheumatism, was beyond him. But then she had been madly in love with her husband, Lord Balderston, if family history was to be believed. She had defied everyone to marry him, a rough about the edges Scottish lord with little to recommend him, according to Barnaby's mother. Hester had mourned the loss of him these past twenty years, rarely venturing far from the castle where they’d been so happy. The family had all tried to persuade her to return to London, but she was as stubborn as she’d always been and wouldn’t budge. The only good thing about being here was that Louis’ presence seemed to have brightened the wicked creature up considerably.

“Ah, there you are,” said the lady herself, appearing in the doorway. “Moping still, are you?”

“My lady,” Louis said, giving the old woman a polite bow.

“Morning, Aunt Hester,” Barnaby said, moving closer to give her a dutiful kiss on the cheek.