Chapter 9 - Divided Allegiance
The next morning found Catherine incredibly tired. It felt as though she had not slept at all.
She had considered hiding another note beneath her pillow.
She had refrained.
He would not take the risk of breaking into her rooms without cause to believe she wished to contact him. And she had made it clear she was betrothed and did not intend to ever see him again.
The truth was that she didn’t know anyone she could turn to.
It was her first season in Ireland. Her mother had only agreed for her to stay alone with her father because her older sister was expecting a child, and her Lady Mother was at Susanne’s side to assist and was expected in Kilkenny as soon as the little heir was born.
Thanks to Anne, Catherine looked presentable when she left her suite and joined the party entering the coaches.
The O’Donell estate lay outside Kilkenny, a little more than an hour’s ride — and almost two hours by the slower coaches.
Too much time to think.
Catherine was seated with Maisie and two daughters of her father’s acquaintances — young Miss Walsh and Lady Doyle.
She knew she was poor company. The ladies’ banter flowed around her while she leaned her head against the upholstered backrest, offering only the occasional murmur of agreement.
Even if she had lived here longer, it was not as though she could turn to anyone and ask them to save a criminal and traitor simply because she happened to like his eyes.
There was exactly one person she knew to be suspected of sympathies toward radical nationalism.
The one person she most certainly did not want to reach out to.
Her very own fiancé.
But how could she possibly speak to him about her fear for the traitor she had kissed?
If she suddenly hinted that she had reason to believe the sheriff planned a sweep of local radicals, he would have every right to question her motives.
Assuming he did not suspect her of improper entanglement, she still had no way of knowing whether he would even be inclined to help outlaws and traitors. The Viscount had been nothing but proper. Implying he had ties to known criminals could be an unforgivable insult.
The landscape flowed past the windows, the outskirts of the city giving way to gently rolling hills. It was a beautiful day — perfect for a picnic.
Lady Doyle sighed happily about how romantic Catherine’s life would soon be. The clean air. The lovely countryside. Close enough to the city to attend important invitations.
Maisie and Miss Walsh readily agreed.
Catherine nodded along.
She closed her eyes when the topic shifted to Mistress O’Flaherty’s latest column in The Lady’s Diary.
She did not care if she betrayed her father by speaking to Aidan — even if he proved unable to help.
She cared what the Viscount would think.
While she was aware he courted her for political reasons, she also knew he had been considerate of her feelings every time they had met.
Rationalizing brought her no closer to a solution.
She did not want Dhorn to die.
That was the truth she had circled since last night’s dinner.
Whether she liked it or not.
Heat stung her cheeks, and her chest tightened when she finally admitted she had already made her decision.
. . .
Catherine’s heart thudded heavily when they reached the O’Donell estate. Not racing — simply too heavy. Slightly off.
The Viscount himself assisted the ladies from the coach one after another. His hand politely touched hers as he guided her down the step.
His fingers lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
She averted her gaze, uncommonly shy. Her throat felt painfully tight, and she swallowed when his touch withdrew.
His polite voice rang out, inviting the guests to accompany him to the stables.
The buildings were in good condition. Catherine saw at once that he had not exaggerated when describing the family business. The scent of warm bodies mingled with the sharper tang common to stables, and it immediately calmed her.
She inhaled deeply.
For the first time that morning, the tightness in her chest eased.
The Viscount’s eyes lit as he shared stories about his horses. His hands moved naturally — brushing a nose here, patting a neck there.
Catherine lingered behind.
Partly out of longing — she had not been permitted another ride since the ambush — but mostly because the bored expressions on her companions’ faces told her none of the other ladies would remain near the animals longer than absolutely necessary.
Her gaze settled on one particular stallion.
Black as night. A healthy, shimmering coat. A narrow blaze between his eyes.
Of course she was drawn to him.
The horse carried himself with almost haughty composure, and Catherine felt instantly aligned with that quiet defiance.
She did not attempt to pet him. Or coo at him.
He did not look like a creature fond of indulgent attention.
The other ladies were already drifting ahead.
Catherine exhaled — then swallowed.
Her mouth had gone dry again. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears.
“Cate, are you coming?” Maisie called.
Catherine smiled and lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“I would love to stay a bit longer, Maisie. I haven’t been in a stable since… you know.” She cast her chaperone a longing glance. “You know how much I miss horses. Please, Maisie.”
Reluctance flickered across Maisie’s face.
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly in calculation. They flicked briefly toward the Viscount, who waited patiently while the stable master guided the others toward the exit.
Her voice lowered further.
“If you do not tell on me, Maisie, I shall not inform Father that you joined the others either. The Viscount is my fiancé. He will ensure I am not harmed — I am certain of it. I beg you.”
Maisie’s nose scrunched. Her brow furrowed.
“But…” she began, biting her lip.
Help arrived in the form of the Viscount’s amused voice.
“I swear upon the Good Book M’Lady is safe with me, Lady Clifden. And if you are not convinced, Oíche swears as well.”
He offered a charming smile.
Catherine watched Maisie melt beneath it before hurrying after the others.
Her lips felt terribly dry when she found herself alone with the Viscount.
She cleared her throat.
Her voice still came out absurdly thin when she thanked him for his assistance.