Chapter 12 - Conclusions
The moment the coaches left the yard Aidan turned on his heel and headed back to the stables. He wasn’t entirely sure how kissing his own fiancée had turned into a catastrophe — but he didn’t have time to think about Catherine right now.?
The information she had given him was extremely valuable, and the Dhorn needed to act on it now.
Aidan took up a pitchfork and joined Padhraigh in feeding the horses.
Usually Aidan didn’t bother hiding his “rebellious” activities in his own home.
Catherine’s disclosure of an informer among his own men, however, had him tread more carefully than usual.
He patiently waited until the stable boys had cleared away, and it was only the stable master and him left. Aidan could tell Padhraigh was aware they needed to talk by the lifted eyebrow alone. The half smile on the man’s face died once Aidan had summarised his earlier conversation with Lady Butler.
Padhraigh spat, the gob of liquid hitting the aisle. “So that’s all we know? Any hint about where exactly the spalpeen sits?”
Aidan shook his head. “Nothing,” he admitted. “Just that there is a rat. Not who. Not where.”
Padhraigh’s eyes narrowed at him. “Better than nothing though. How did you find out about it?”
Aidan shrugged casually. “Somebody told me.”
The stable master’s reply came quick, tension thick in his voice. “Somebody, eh? Who? They trustworthy?”
Aidan’s throat tensed. He nodded once. “Very,” he confirmed, intending to cut the interrogation about his source short — to no avail.
Suspicion gleamed in the other man’s eyes. He couldn’t blame Padhraigh for it. The accusation weighed heavily upon him as well. He had briefly pondered Catherine acting on her father’s behalf. He knew the Earl only considered him as in-law because he was a highly suspicious individual.
Perhaps Lord Butler was using his daughter to place his very own spy right in Aidan’s bed.
But the Viscount knew Catherine. Her guilt at betraying the information had been real. And so had her shame and anger at discovering his secret.
“Who?”
Aidan grunted dismissively. “Somebody who shouldn’t have.”
Unfortunately Padhraigh was a quick thinker — and one of Aidan’s oldest friends.
He’d told him about his fiancée being the very Lady they had robbed the same morning once he’d been back from the Butler estate, back when he had officially met Catherine first.
Today he had even assisted Aidan and Catherine in having some privacy.
The stable master’s eyes widened, and then a smirk crossed his face.
“Really?”
A brief pause. Then a shrug.
“Maybe your idea to marry the sasunnach wasn’t as crazy as I thought,” Padhraigh admitted, whistling through his teeth.
Aidan rolled his eyes at it. Right now he wasn’t sure he was still agreeing. He’d never meant for Catherine to play any role in this mess. And now that she knew he wasn’t just a “radical nationalist” but a criminal and traitor? She’d been so furious.
And ironically her position had radically changed since before he’d kissed her. She had sought him out because she trusted him to save a criminal. Now she held the power to destroy him with a snap of her fingers.
Something in his chest softened when he realised she had still stayed for the picnic. She had composed herself.
Aidan slowly exhaled.
Since nobody had come to arrest him yet — Catherine obviously had not betrayed his secret.
Maybe there was hope for their marriage.
Padhraigh’s voice ripped him from his musings.
“So what are we doing about it?”
Aidan thoughtfully cracked his neck. “Cancel this week’s actions, right? Tell them we have an informer among the sheriff’s people. Schedule a meeting for about two weeks from now, right? That’ll give our own little rat time to panic about us having a spy as well. Maybe they’ll bite.”
The stable master tipped his chin. “Consider it done.”
A beat.
“I’ll deliver the message myself. So they all take it serious.”
. . .
Padhraigh returned a couple of days later. A mere nod told Aidan the message had been delivered. His shoulders relaxed a little. He had not heard anything from Catherine or the Butlers yet — the looming threat of her changing her mind had weighed heavily on his mind the last few days.
At least the Dhorn were safe for now.
The stable master approached him, a couple of letters dangling from his hands. Aidan had expected correspondence to arrive together with him and took the envelopes.
Padhraigh nodded at the last one. “Met a Butler messenger on the way. Saved him the ride,” he casually remarked, and Aidan inclined his head briefly. Like it didn’t matter.
“Get yourself something to eat.” He grinned. “Mistress Jones has been saving some for you. Something I’d need to know happening under my roof?” Aidan teased.
Padhraigh just smirked in response and handed his horse to one of the stable boys.
Aidan accompanied him back to the house, excusing himself to his office. Once the door had closed behind him he carelessly tore the Butler letter open and unfolded the paper inside.
Heavy. Cream coloured.
Elegant handwriting informed him that Lady Butler Senior had arrived at her husband’s estate. He was invited to a ball welcoming m’Lady home coming Saturday.
A personal note was attached. The Lady herself let him know she was delighted to finally make the acquaintance of her future son-in-law.
Aidan briefly closed his eyes. Weights he had not been aware had burdened him seemed to drop off his shoulders.
The betrothal was intact.
Catherine still was protecting — well whom exactly? Dhorn? The Viscount?
It didn’t matter.
And he’d make sure Catherine knew he wasn’t angry. She had cheated on her fiancé. But she had cheated him with himself after all.
A rueful smile tugged at his lips. He’d been so obsessed with his own worries that he had not actually pondered her own feelings about the recent events. Catherine must have been devastated herself. For the first time since the picnic Aidan felt hope.
If they could just talk in person he was sure their misunderstanding could be rectified. He had to make sure she understood he didn’t think bad of her at all.
He took up the quill and scribbled down a formal reply, adding a note to the Butler’s master of ceremonies, informing him that he insisted on Catherine’s first dance. It should allow for enough uninterrupted time between them.