Page 22 of Indecently Daring

“I beg your pardon. I shan’t thank you either,” she said gravely, though the urge to laugh was nigh on irresistible.

Cat bit her lip hard. He really was too delicious. It was a pity he refused to talk to her, but she didn’t care. Instead, she admired the way he moved, sighed over his powerful shoulders and the way the fine fabric of his coat highlighted them. His hair was a little long for fashion: thick, dark curls brushed his collar, and made her itch to reach out and touch them. Instead, she stroked the horse’s inky black coat.

“He’s quite magnificent,” she said at last, unable to resist that much. “What’s he called?”

Kilbane looked back, his expression one of pure frustration, and Cat had to fight to smother a bubble of laughter.

“Pirate,” he snapped.

“Pirate,” Cat crooned, stroking the beast’s smooth neck. “What a handsome fellow you are. Have you had him long?”

“A while. Don’t talk to me.”

Cat sighed, trying to keep quiet, but it did not come naturally. Inevitably, she failed.

“Wasn’t Euphonia, the Talking Machine, an amazing sight? Did you enjoy your visit as much as I did? I wonder that it was not more popular, but Professor Faber was rather an unpleasant prospect, I suppose. He was not terribly clean, and the smell was terrible, and his hair badly needed cutting. I don’t think it had seen a comb any time in the past decade. Besides that, the machine itself is uncanny, bearing the face of a human woman and with that awful voice. I confess, I was rather afraid of it,” she admitted frankly. “Which you likely think foolish of me, and I cannot truly account for, only, it was delightfully disturbing.”

“It was,” Kilbane replied without turning, surprising her that he’d answered at all. “It put me in mind of Frankenstein. I wanted to weep for it.”

“For the monster, or the talking machine?” she asked, astonished, and gratified by his confiding this to her.

He shrugged, those strong shoulders moving easily beneath the snug cut of his coat. “Both, I suppose. Things created by man with little care or understanding for what they are doing, for the effect they have on their creations or those that look upon them.”

“Oh,” Cat said, struck by his words. They seemed heavy with sincerity, with something that felt like pain. She wondered if they revealed something about the man before her, and turned them over in her mind before tucking them away to consider when she was alone and could replay this entire episode and dissect every moment.

“I wonder what happened to Euphonia?” she asked wistfully, imagining visiting it with Kilbane so they might discuss it at length.

“I said don’t talk to me, brat,” he growled, and Cat sighed.

Chapter 8

My Lord,

It was so lovely to see you again after so long. I did not expect that you would ever visit again, and I cannot tell you how happy you made me. I get terribly lonely, you see, and though the cottage is wonderful and comfortable, and I am eternally grateful for it, I miss having company and going to parties, but one cannot have everything. Sadly, my neighbours are all far too respectable to call upon me. Scandal is catching, you see. I suppose I cannot blame them, but it makes for a lonely existence. The only person who takes the trouble is the lovely vicar. Such a handsome fellow he is, too. Quite delicious, and it’s so much fun to make him blush.

―Excerpt of a letter to The Most Hon’ble Ciarán St Just, The Marquess of Kilbane from Mrs Louisa Clifford.

14th January 1845, Holbrook House, Sussex.

“Well, this is a turnabout,” Alana said with a laugh, looking at Cat, who was sitting with her ankle bandaged and resting on a footstool.

Cat pulled a face. “I cannot abide being incapacitated,” she grumbled. “I warn you now, I’m a vile patient. I hate sitting still.”

“You think this comes as a surprise to us?” Alana said, putting her hands on her hips. “You only did this yesterday afternoon and you’re already getting on my nerves.”

She laughed at the indignant look Cat sent her.

“Well, that’s unkind.”

“You may be a vile patient, but I’m vile to patients,” Alana replied airily. “Can’t stand them. No forbearance whatsoever and nothing approaching a bedside manner. You’ve been warned.”

Cat laughed, shaking her head. “What a delightful pair we are.”

“You’re just lucky Uncle Jasper rode past when he did or you might still be there,” Alana replied, pausing when she saw an odd look cross Cat’s face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Cat said hastily, looking guilty as sin.

“Oh, Cat. What have you done now?” Alana demanded, sitting down carefully on the footstool so as not to jostle Cat’s injured ankle.