Page 50 of A Misguided Devotion

Kitty rolled her eyes. “In all that spare time I’ve had? You forget I am at Laura’s beck and call, and without the means to travel to the mainland on a whim.”

“Then I’ll take you.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?” It would not do for her to believe he cared for her.

“Why not? It’s the least I can do for allowing me to paint you in Miss Barrington’s stead.”

Kitty hesitated. Did she want to learn the truth about her father’s birth? Wasn’t it easier not to know? That left her free to disbelieve what Mrs Barrington had told her, if she wished. No, she had lived with the lie for too long.

“Very well, I accept. Thank you.”

“Now all we must do is persuade Miss Barrington she would like a trip to Weymouth. I doubt that will prove difficult.”

Chapter 15

Kitty could not sleep. William had promised to take her to see the parish records. She would learn the truth about her father’s birth—and yet she didn’t know if she could face it.

It did not help that a pair of deep blue eyes and a roguish smile haunted her thoughts. Why did he have to flirt with her? It had been so unexpected, and for a moment, she had responded as if it were real, revelling in his touch. She had come back to earth with a crash and lashed out at him for making her think he cared.

Bother the man. Why did he have to turn all apologetic and be so sweet to her when she told him her story? While he had been so self-centred, she could easily dismiss him from her thoughts, but now?

Catherine Bruce. I warned you not to fall in love. You will end up with a broken heart and no one to blame but yourself. It meant nothing. He was just being kind.

She had exposed a chink in his armour of self-absorption, and beneath it, she had discovered a man worth loving. Kitty knew she was lost.

She climbed out of bed and walked to the window. Her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. The figure was in the garden again, with the same tell-tale plume of smoke. Kitty reached a snap decision. This time, she would discover the smoker’s identity.

As she pulled on her wrap and slid her feet into her slippers, she couldn’t help remembering the previous occasion she had ventured into the corridors at night. When she had confronted William and he had insisted she use his Christian name to prove there was nothing between her and Hugh. She wouldn’t object to repeating that experience. It would be far preferable to facing Mr Barrington again and having to endure his fatherly arm around her shoulders.

Candle in hand, Kitty left her room. She stood for a moment and listened. All was quiet, but just in case someone was about, she walked down the Long Gallery, rather than using the hallway that passed by Hugh’s bedroom door.

At the top of the staircase, she paused again. Still no noise. She glanced at the door separating her from the hall of William’s bedchamber, wishing he would come out. She would have been glad of his support tonight, but as he didn’t appear, she would have to manage without him. It would be most improper to go knocking on his bedroom door. With a shake of her head, she hurried downstairs, gripping the banister as she descended.

She crossed the entrance hall to the servants’ stair and continued her descent. At the top of the steps down to the cellars, she waited again. Still no noise. All was dark, apart from her candle.

Inhaling deeply, she took a step downward and then another. Light streamed underneath a closed door to her right. Dare she go inside?

Before she could decide, the door opened. Hugh slipped out and shut it behind him. “Catherine! Why in heaven’s name are you down here?” Taking her arm, he led her back up the stairs. “It is not safe. Promise me you will not venture down here again.”

Kitty refused to be fobbed off. “Why isn’t it safe?”

Hugh wrung his hands together. “Because sometimes the tobacco does not calm Silas enough, and he becomes violent.”

“Then why don’t you let him be cared for in an asylum? Though it is compassionate of you to keep him here, isn’t the safety of your own household more important?”

“You are right, of course, and I fear there will come a time when I can no longer give him shelter under my roof. But I want to put off that day for as long as possible. I cannot forget what he sacrificed whilst fighting for his country.”

“May I see him?”

“My dear Catherine, why would you want to look at a man who is not in his right mind?”

Because she doubted he existed.

“It would not be kind to watch him like a monkey in a cage.”

At that moment, the door opened again, and the butler exited and came up the stairs toward them. He looked hideous. Laura had said he had once been a prize-fighter, and his appearance could not have been worse if he had just fought several rounds in the ring. His lip was cut and streaming with blood, and his right eye showed signs of turning purple.

“Is all well, Blake?” asked Hugh. “Have you got him under restraint again?”