Chapter 7 - Impropriety
Catherine didn’t process a single word of Maisie’s seemingly endless stream of chatter. The women were on their way to Mistress O’Malley for the first fitting of the new dress. The chaperone seemed equally excited as Catherine herself felt — just for entirely different reasons.?
“Mhmm. I agree,” Catherine said, sensing a pause in Maisie’s monologue.
She couldn’t get the letter out of her mind. She knew it word for word.
Little Lady, I want to personally thank you. Meet me next time you visit your seamstress. The only thing I ask you to do is fall behind outside the shoppe and gift me a couple of minutes of your time. Just leave a note under your pillow in return and let me know when.
Dhorn
The note had been written in big, bold letters, smeared carelessly onto a ragged piece of paper. She didn’t need her own earring wrapped inside it to know who had written it.
She just didn’t know how he had gotten into her rooms — and even less how he had managed to make it into her sleeping chamber.
She had carefully asked around whether anybody had entered the private areas of the estate during High Tea, but every single person she’d questioned had denied it. No stranger had been seen anywhere near this part of the house.
As if he were a ghost.
Catherine couldn’t snoop too much without raising suspicion. She had struggled with herself for two days before finding the nerve to leave a reply as he had instructed.
If she was honest, she had partly done so to catch him breaking into her rooms.
But even though she had tried to keep an eagle eye on her chambers, he had managed to retrieve her note.
Between two of her checks, it had vanished.
Of course, she had not stayed in her bed the entire time either. There had been enough opportunity to slip in and back out again.
She was dying to find out how.
While she wasn’t afraid he would hurt her, the thought that he could enter and leave her rooms at will — and that nobody could stop him — was deeply disturbing.
Her heart sat in her throat as she and Maisie continued walking. The way seemed much longer today.
Probably because Catherine still had not decided what she was actually going to do.
She had told him the day.
But she didn’t know whether she would truly stay behind.
Maisie would not object. Sweet soul that she was, the chaperone would never suspect her Lady of doing anything improper.
Meeting him to exchange a few words hardly seemed worse than helping him escape the city guards.
Just that it was.
Last time, she had acted on impulse.
This time, she knew exactly what she was doing.
And she was acting like a coward about a decision she had already made.
With a deep exhale, she fumbled with her glove and stuffed it into her sleeve while they continued walking, until they reached the seamstress’s door.
Catherine extended her now bare hand and frowned.
“Oh no! I lost my glove. I think I know where it dropped.”
The bell of the nearby church announced the hour.
“We’ll be late!” Catherine exclaimed, eyes wide. “Maisie, you go ahead. I’ll just fetch my glove and be right with you.”
“But, M’Lady, your safety—” Maisie began.
Catherine smiled at her warmly and gently squeezed her hand.
“Maisie, I’m on Main Street. In broad daylight. Nothing is going to happen. Please don’t let Mistress o’ Malley wait. I promise I’ll be right with you. It’s my grandmother’s glove. With her embroidery on it.”
Maisie nodded in understanding and entered the shop.
Catherine’s heart pounded harder as she wondered how she would find him.
Then she felt a tall body behind her, and the low rumble of a familiar voice.
“Just walk, M’Lady.”
She let him guide her from the street into narrower alleys. A hand at the small of her back directed her, and after only a few turns Catherine found herself in a small backyard.
She spun to face him and was greeted with a sparkling smile beneath the familiar mask.
“How did you get into my room?” she demanded.
“That needs to stay a secret, little Lady,” he replied, then pressed a finger gently against her lips. “You’re safe in your chambers. Let me assure you of that.”
Catherine nodded slowly. “I trust your word on it,” she admitted reluctantly. “Maisie is waiting for me.”
“I know, bean bheag chróga,” he assured her, shaking his head slightly. “I needed to see you.”
He swallowed hard. Catherine saw the tendons in his throat shift.
His hand lifted. His fingers brushed the side of her head, tucking behind her ear, his thumb grazing softly along her jaw.
A low sound vibrated from him. His eyes closed briefly before meeting hers again, the intensity in his gaze stealing the breath from her lungs.
“You weren’t meant to mean something, little Lady,” he confessed.
His voice sounded bitter and breathless at once.
“But I can’t get you out of my mind.”
He leaned closer.
So close she could count his lashes. Feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
“It seems you are the more talented thief, little Lady,” he whispered.
His lips hovered inches from hers.
Then they bridged the distance.
Gently.
Reverently.
Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her, her body softening against the warm pressure. Their breath mingled, warmth unfurling low in her stomach.
A husky sound vibrated against her mouth. She swallowed it.
She lost herself in the sensation — his scent filling her senses, the careful graze of his teeth against the curve of her lower lip, teasing her to deepen the kiss.
And then she realized what she was doing.
She stiffened.
Her hands pressed against his chest as she turned her head.
“I am betrothed!”
Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears. Her lips tingled from his touch. Her pulse thundered loudly enough to drown her thoughts.
“He’s a man of honor. I just… I can’t.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
She pushed past him and fled the yard, back through the alley and onto the main street.
She didn’t hesitate climbing the steps to Mistress O’Malley’s shop and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her as if she truly were chased by a criminal.
She forced an apologetic smile onto her face as two pairs of eyes turned toward her.
“Did you find it?” Maisie asked brightly.
Catherine stared at her blankly for a moment.
“Your glove, M’Lady,” the chaperone reminded her.
Catherine straightened her shoulders and nodded.
“Yes,” she replied steadily. “I found it indeed. Thank you for your patience.”