Page 20 of Indecently Daring

“Not in the least. Come and sit down next to your old auntie, Harry,” Mrs Dankworth said, patting the seat next to her. “Brave, brave boy,” she added, taking his hand and patting it with an expression of affectionate pride.

Alana bit back a smile as the vicar frowned awkwardly, looking as if he’d changed his mind and wanted to run from the room.

“Oh, well, that was—”

“You’d best not say nothing,” Alana warned him severely. “For it was something to me, I can tell you.”

“To us all,” her aunt said, one hand pressed against her heart. “My goodness, when I heard what had happened, but thank the lord all of you are safe. Poor little Jeb. Is he well enough to call upon, do you think? I’ve made up a basket with books, and some toy soldiers I found. They must have belonged to Cassius. Jasper has added a lovely wooden horse he made too, and Cook has put in some treats he’s bound to enjoy.”

“He is quite well, I thank you and I’m certain you will find an appreciative audience for such a generous gift. In fact, I am going to collect him on my way home. I’ve asked him to stay with me at the vicarage, at least for the time being until his mother returns, and you are most welcome whenever you wish to visit.”

“Oh, Harry,” Lady St Clair said, smiling fondly at him. “How lovely you are. I’ve been so worried about what would happen to him. I’d heard his mother has disappeared again.”

Harry nodded. “I’m afraid so, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him going back to that cold, empty room all alone.”

Alana watched the exchange with interest, and suddenly understood why her aunt was so very fond of the vicar. He was genuinely kind and caring. Taking in the boy was not an act of charity because it was part of his job. Harry wanted him, needed to know he was safe and well.

Harry? When had he become Harry? Reverend Martin, she corrected herself. The sound of feathers ruffling drew her attention, and she was relieved to think of something else as the parrot tilted its head slyly, clearly of the opinion it had not received enough attention. Alana watched, entertained, as the bird fluffed itself up and opened its beak.

“Murder!” it shrieked, and at such a pitch Mrs Dankworth juggled her teacup and saucer, which was thankfully empty but still left the lady with a lapful of tea leaves. “Infamy! Sodom and Gomorrah! Sod em, sod em!”

Alana could not help but glance at the vicar, expecting to see him scowling with disapproval and was surprised to see his shoulders shaking silently while he fought not to laugh.

“Oh, you dreadful bird!” her aunt said, spluttering with indignation at having been given such a fright.

“Macintosh, you fiend!” Mrs Dankworth protested, holding out her skirts as Lady Beauchamp did her best to brush off the tea leaves with a hanky.

“He did that on purpose,” the reverend observed with delight. “What a clever fellow he is, if rather unruly.”

Macintosh regarded the vicar with interest, marching up and down his perch. Alana held her breath, suspecting he was building up to his pièce de résistance. He did not disappoint her,

“Cock! Ooooh, what a big one!”

Cat strode out, glad to be out of doors even if it was brass monkeys, as her old friend Jack would say about the icy temperature. She reached the village in good time, pink-cheeked and breathing fast after her invigorating walk, but at least she had kept the cold at bay. After she had posted her letters, she visited the bakery and bought a small bag of marzipan fruits to eat on the way home. Dallying a little, she looked in the shop windows, toying with the idea of buying a length of glorious violet ribbon on display in the haberdasher’s. It put her in mind of a certain fellow’s unusual eyes, but perhaps she ought to keep thoughts of him to a minimum, at least for now. Papa had been so furious with her. She had never seen him truly cross before, not like that, but she had frightened him half to death as he considered what might have happened.

That he was also indebted to Lord Kilbane infuriated him to such a pitch he’d not been able to speak to her at all when she’d got home, which was the worst feeling in the world. Even now, remembering it made her feel sick. She had been rash, she knew, but she also knew Kilbane was not the man her father thought he was. It was her belief that no one knew the Marquess of Kilbane, because he would not allow it. She truly believed the persona he presented to the world was only a façade, something to keep everyone at a distance, but acting upon that belief was a very large gamble and Cat was not yet certain if she were brave enough to stake everything upon her instincts. It was one thing to believe it, but quite another to lay her entire future on the line to prove it.

Yet, he had come to her rescue and, despite the scathing way he had spoken to her, he’d been kind enough. He had ensured she was unhurt and had been discreet in getting her home, taking pains to make certain no one saw her. He’d not needed to do that.

Cat popped a marzipan fruit into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, regarding the ribbon, and remembering what it had felt like to be alone in that carriage with him. His presence had been electrifying, making her skin prickle with anticipation, her heart race, and every nerve in her body sing with awareness. She had never felt more alive than she had during those too brief moments.

Lost in her thoughts, she turned away from the window without looking where she was going, and crashed into someone walking past her. Cat stumbled back, twisting her ankle and letting out a most unladylike curse as pain lanced through it.

“I ought to have known you’d curse like a sailor,” replied a mocking and wonderfully familiar deep voice.

Heart leaping to her throat, Cat looked up, stunned into silence as she stared into violet eyes, the remarkable colour so much more startling in reality.

“Drat you, child, must you always be so eager to throw yourself in harm’s way? Don’t you have a nursemaid to keep you out of trouble?”

Well, that was enough to help her find her tongue. A nursemaid indeed. The nerve!

“I’ll be eighteen in three weeks! I do not need a nursemaid,” she snapped. “Ouch!”

Cat yelped as she tried to put weight on her ankle and pain shot through it.

Kilbane let out a pained sound of irritation. “Damn you! What is your father thinking, letting you out in the world without an army of attendants to chaperone you? He should keep you under lock and key where you can’t bother the rest of the population,” he groused, glaring at her.

Cat leant against the wall, keeping the weight off her ankle. “The rest of the population don’t look terribly bothered,” she retorted. “You’re the only one making a fuss. Methinks the gentleman protests too much.”