Chapter 6 - For Old Times Sake
Aidan absentmindedly guided Oíche through the crowd gathered in the streets. Horse and rider knew each other well; it took barely more than a shift of Aidan’s weight for the stallion to react.
She had saved him.
Catherine — the polite, obedient Lady, his soon-to-be wife — had broken the law to save an Irish criminal.
He had replayed the moment her eyes had started to blaze, and the haughty motion of her head when she had commanded him to stay exactly where he was, a million times already.
It still made him shake his head in quiet admiration — and silent despair.
How was he supposed to play his part around her when he knew the fierce, hardheaded, rebellious imp that lived in the body of the cool, composed Lady?
Yet he knew he couldn’t give in to his desire to show her his intrigue during high tea. It would be a highly formal affair, involving other guests, staff, and the Earl himself watching over Catherine and him.
Something almost like pain tugged at his chest.
The Earl was convinced he needed to give a hesitant candidate enough incentives to proceed. The man was entirely unscrupulous, though — he’d have an eager candidate for breakfast any time.
By the time Aidan had reached the Butler estate, his face betrayed nothing but mild impatience. He handed Oíche to one of the stableboys, then made his way toward the main building without hurry.
He carried a small bouquet of flowers.
Well aware he was expected to shower Catherine with gifts.
The Earl expected a beggar. A man who could be bought with the promise of wealth. He wasn’t wrong. Aidan needed the advantages that came with marrying into old English blood.
A barely adequate gift would expose how much the Earl was willing to invest into a connection between Viscount O’Donell and his precious daughter.
The thought of disappointing her still stung.
Aidan forced the emotion down, swallowing the bitter taste on his tongue as he entered the house and found himself escorted to one of the salons by different staff than the evening before.
His eyes found her immediately.
Of course they did — she was seated in a way that tastefully made her the centre of attention. Her ivory dress provided a beautiful contrast to her dark hair.
Aidan blinked.
While he couldn’t afford to let his undeniable attraction show, he didn’t find any need to be unnecessarily cruel either.
He approached and greeted her with a polite bow. “M’Lady Catherine.”
She extended her gloved hand to him.
He took it into his own, the gentle brush of fabric against his bare skin, and pressed his lips to it.
“M’Lord O’Donell, your attendance is such a pleasure.”
Her voice was perfectly calm. And why wouldn’t it be?
Aidan handed her the flowers.
Her features didn’t so much as twitch. There was no sign of disappointment. Instead she accepted them gracefully and handed the bouquet to one of the servants.
He wondered if her heart had sped up just a little at the seemingly small gesture.
By accepting the gift, she had officially accepted his courtship.
Aidan took the seat across from her, painfully aware of the countless pairs of eyes now watching them. Their shameless curiosity made him recoil. It couldn’t be helped, however.
Her voice rang out again. “I hope you had a pleasant ride here, M’Lord.”
A tip of his chin. “Indeed, M’Lady. The city always thrives at this time of the year, don’t you think?”
Catherine’s smile never wavered. “It is my first season here in Ireland, M’Lord, so alas I don’t have a comparison.” She exhaled, then quickly added, “Please be assured I am quite enchanted with your beautiful country, Sir.”
Aidan nodded, forcing his features to remain still. “You are too polite, dear Lady.”
Something almost like a sparkle lit up in the depths of his eyes. “The weather has been exceptionally fine these past few weeks.”
It had been raining heavily most of the time.
His words were greeted with the twitch of an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth threatened to curl when she replied, “Truly exceptional, of course.”
Aidan was served tea and helped himself to one of the tiny sandwiches presented on a tiered tray, together with a variety of pastries and cakes.
The conversation stilled a couple of times. Aidan didn’t bother to keep it flowing, but he didn’t sabotage it either.
He had meant to.
He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Their lack of enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed, and the Earl himself joined them.
The fond, fatherly smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes when he sat down next to his daughter. He took her hand in a familiar fashion, pressed a brief kiss to it, then narrowed his gaze on Aidan.
His voice was dangerously soft.
“Are you enjoying yourselves, dear children?”
Catherine’s lips pressed together, forming a thin white line, before her mouth relaxed into a smile.
“Of course, Father. M’Lord and I just discussed the advantages of the local climate.”
The Earl’s smile was thin enough to cut glass. “I am pleased to hear you are enjoying yourselves. I expect you have already agreed upon your next meeting?” he inquired, politely pressuring to have the courtship moving forward.
Aidan answered with an impeccable smile of his own.
“I intended to ask M’Lady for a ride. Tomorrow, dear Catherine?”
He saw her face light up immediately. Her eyes shone so bright it almost hurt.
The Earl shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot allow such frivolous adventures.”
He offered a consoling smile. “I’m afraid my dearest daughter has some troubles with the local breeds. The ladies brought up here might be used to the temper. My Catherine, however…” He blew out an apologetic breath.
Aidan couldn’t miss the flicker of emotion on Catherine’s face.
Disbelief. Annoyance. Anger.
Then her features blanked entirely.
He nodded in fake understanding. He had seen her ride. The Earl didn’t want to admit his precious daughter had been the victim of a crime.
“That’s a pity,” Aidan replied at last, his voice carefully neutral. “A father’s worry, however, is utterly understandable.”
He paused and turned directly to Catherine.
“Perhaps you would still allow me to give you a tour of my stables? The O’Donell family breeds some of the finest horses on the island. I suggest a traditional picnic after.”
He watched her face soften a little. She wasn’t happy — but her anger wasn’t directed at him.
Before her father could intervene, she nodded. “I gladly accept your invitation, M’Lord. Saturday?”
Aidan nodded. “Saturday it is, Lady Catherine.”
They bid their farewells soon after.
Aidan disliked the part he had just played. Pretending he wasn’t interested in her beyond the political value she brought him made him want to spit.
The bad taste lingered in his mouth when he made his way back to the stables.
He had hated the look on her face when her father had humbled her horsemanship.
Had hated that he couldn’t contradict him and stand up for her.
“Tiarna beag! Aidan!”
Aidan looked up in surprise. The impatience in the voice told him it wasn’t the first time he had been called.
Confusion flickered in his chest. Who’d call him “little” at the Earl’s estate?
His eyes fell upon a tiny woman. She had to be in her late fifties at least. Her back was bent. Her face wrinkled.
“Mamó Murphy?” he asked.
The old lady beamed at him. “You grew quite a bit,” she teased.
Aidan winked. “Can’t be. I guess you shrunk, Mistress. What are you doing here?”
Mistress Murphy shrugged. “I’m a chambermaid at the estate these days, buachaill. You know your father gave up his properties in town.”
Aidan nodded. A shadow crossed his face briefly.
“Hard times, Mistress,” he admitted.
“For all of us,” she agreed.
Aidan knew it was a bad idea.
He still had to see her. Had to talk to her. The real Catherine. Not the impeccable Lady, but the brave woman he’d met twice.
“Mamó Murphy,” he said quietly. “Would you do a man a favour? For old time’s sake?”
She eyed him suspiciously.
Aidan beckoned her to follow him toward the stables. With a piece of coal, he quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of paper, carefully wrapping a tiny item inside it.
Sunlight briefly caught on the object — a sparkle quickly contained by the wrapper.
He exhaled, the ordinary little package clenched tight in his fist. He knew he shouldn’t. But the look of disappointment upon her face still haunted him.
His temper won and he handed the gift over to his chosen messenger.
“Lady Catherine is my future bride, Mistress Murphy. You said you’re a chambermaid. So I wondered if you’d hide this little gift beneath Catherine’s pillow? Just make sure she never finds out whom it comes from.”
The old lady’s face softened and she nodded.
“Young love,” she sighed happily. “Yes, tiarna beag. For old time’s sake.”