Lady of Seduction (38 page)

“What is that?” she whispered.

“I have to ask you to be my wife, to come back to Muirin Inish with me and help me build a life for us there. I
love you, Caroline, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to be worthy of you. Please, give me a chance to do that.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips for a tender kiss. “Please.”

Caroline let out a ragged sob and gently cradled his scarred cheek in her palm. He
had
asked her, and now she knew her decision was clear before her—she chose passion. She chose a life with him, always and forever.

“Yes, Grant, I will marry you,” she said. “I could do nothing else. We belong together, don’t we? I think we always have.
And I love you, too. So very much.”

Grant threw back his head and let out an exultant, triumphant shout. He caught her in his arms and kissed her, their mouths
meeting in a joyful burst of passion and hope. And Caroline knew that even in the midst of difficult days, they would always
have that. They would always have each other, true partners and a port in any storm. It was all she could ever want.

They tumbled down onto the bed, laughing, their arms and legs entangled as the morning sun washed over them.

“We’ll always take care of each other now, won’t we?” she said.

“Always,” Grant answered. And she knew it was the most solemn, most precious promise she had ever been given.

Muirin Inish, one year later

C
aroline, Lady Dunmore, sat atop the rise of a green hill with her sketchbook propped on an easel before her and a pile of
books beside her. It was a warm day, the dawning of summer after a long winter. The skies had cleared, the sun peeking from
behind the pale gray clouds, and she had come out to sketch the ruins in order to illustrate the newest chapter of her book.

She smiled as she studied the shadow-dappled monastery in the valley below her perch. She wasn’t the only one who had come
out to take advantage of the fine day. Maeve, who now worked as Caroline’s lady’s maid, had brought food there with her mother
and siblings, and their shouts of laughter as they raced around the old stones rang out on the breeze. Far beyond, Caroline
could see the fishing boats tied up in port and the men at work mending their nets and cleaning their vessels. The island
was coming back to life.

In the other direction, work went on to finish the new manor house where the old castle once stood. It would be a smaller
dwelling than the sprawling castle, with no frightening towers and crumbling walkways waiting to make the unwary fall. The
walls were of sturdy gray stone and the windows were thick to withstand storms. But the rooms would be large and airy, full
of light, and there would be the finest library in all Ireland.

There would be a fine nursery, too. And hopefully it would be all done and decorated by the autumn, before their new arrival
made an appearance. The small cottage where they had spent the cozy winter, with all their books in crates around them, would
never do for three.

“Never fear, little one,” Caroline whispered as she pressed her hand over the great swell of her abdomen beneath her apron.
“Your lovely new home will be all ready for you.”

As if in agreement, she—for Caroline was sure it was another stubborn Blacknall woman—kicked out and made Caroline laugh.
The baby had been so active lately, as if she was also glad the summer had arrived.

Caroline turned to reach for her pencil box, which sat atop a stack of new books. They had just arrived mysteriously aboard
one of the fishing boats, along with a letter from Mademoiselle Victorine. The books had been her father’s, she wrote in her
message. Sadly, the vicomte had died at Christmas, but he wished for her to have these volumes for her studies. Victorine
herself had no need of “dusty books,” because she had just married a high-ranking officer in Napoleon’s army and was busy
cutting a dash in Paris. There had also been a letter from Anna, saying she and the children would be there for a long visit
before the baby was born, so she could make sure the new house was properly decorated. Caroline’s stepdaughter Mary was also
expecting a child in the winter, and all was quiet in Dublin.

So everything seemed settled in the world now. Caroline knew better than to believe it would last, but for now, life was wonderfully
sweet.

As she turned back to her sketch, she glimpsed her husband striding up the hill. Grant had been surveying the fields that
morning, and he wore an old tweed coat and mud-splattered buckskin breeches and high boots. His hair was even longer now and
tied back at the nape of his neck, but the wind tugged loose bronze-brown strands that brushed against his shoulders.

Even after months of marriage, her heart lifted at the sight of him, and she felt a heated surge of desire and happiness.
She could hardly believe he was
hers
and that they had built this life together. That they belonged to each other.

She waved to him, and closed up her sketchbook to run down to meet him. “I was about to start our meal without you,” she said.
He kissed her, once, twice, and gently caressed the swell of her stomach where the baby rested. The baby responded to her
father’s touch with another fierce kick.

Grant gave a delighted laugh. “I’m sorry I kept the two of you from your luncheon. Someone seems quite demandingly hungry.”

“We both are. Cook’s lemon tarts have been calling to us from the basket. But we’ve been quite busy with our work as well.”
Caroline took his hand and led him back up the hill to where their meal waited. “Tell me about your day, husband.”

“Dirty and full of dull things like barley and potatoes and sheep. But it just got much, much better the minute I saw you.”
He kissed her again, and in that kiss, Caroline could feel all she had ever wanted and all the dreams that had finally come
true. She was at home at last and forever. “In fact, wife, I would say this is the most perfect day so far…”

L
ady of Seduction
is the last of my “Daughters of Erin” trilogy, and I’m very sad to say good-bye to the Blacknall sisters and their heroes!
I’ve had so much fun spending time in their world of romance, danger, and the beauties of Ireland (though I’m also very glad
the “danger” part was only experienced in the safety of my desk chair). I’ve been looking forward to seeing Caroline’s story
ever since I finished writing the first book,
Countess of Scandal
. I hope you’ve enjoyed Caroline and Grant’s story as much as I have.

The Rising of 1803 was not nearly as widespread as the rebellion of 1798 and was plagued by bad luck and poor timing, though
at first it seemed to have many advantages. Its charismatic leader was Robert Emmet, only twenty-five in 1803. In 1798, when
he was a student at Trinity College, he became secretary to a United Irish group and was expelled from the school, and a warrant
was issued for his arrest. He fled to France and then worked to secure
French military aid for another rising. He wasn’t successful in this, but he returned to Ireland in October 1802 to begin
plans for his own rebellion.

At first things seemed to go well. He was able to set up secret arms depots around Dublin to make firearms and ammunitions
and produce his own invention, a folding pike that could be easily concealed. He made contact with his old comrades, United
Irish officers who had gone into hiding after 1798 or melted into private life. He thought he could reassemble the old armies
of rebels, because anger over the last rebellion still ran high. But the government had suspicions, and after the explosion
at the secret Patrick Street armory, their defensive preparations increased. Emmet was forced to advance the planned date
of the rising before he had secured French aid or the support of the rural United Irish. The rising saw fierce fighting in
Dublin, mainly in the Thomas Street area, with explosive-packed beams, barricades, snipers, and hand-to-hand skirmishes in
the street. Lord Kilwarden, Lord Chief Justice of Ireland, was dragged from his carriage and killed, igniting the fires of
revenge in the government forces.

Sporadic clashes went on through the night, but the army had quelled the rising by morning. There were estimated to be twenty
army and fifty rebel fatalities. Emmet fled into hiding but was captured on August 25 and executed on September 20. He is
famous for his impassioned speech from the dock, which concluded:

“Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dare not vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance,
asperse them. Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain
uninscribed, and my memory in oblivion, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes
her place among the nations of the earth, then and not till then let my epitaph be written. I have done.”

A few sources I used when working on
Lady of Seduction
were:

The Islands of Ireland,
Thames & Hudson, 2005 (Excellent source for constructing the fictional Muirin Inish)

FS Bourke,
The Rebellion of 1803, An Essay in Bibliography,
1933

Marianne Elliott,
Partners in Revolution: The United Irish and France,
1988

Patrick Geoghegan,
Robert Emmet, A Life,
2002

Ruan O’Donnell,
Robert Emmet and the Rising of 1803,
Irish Academic Press, 2003

I have more sources and historical background on early nineteenth-century Ireland at my website,
http://laurelmckee.net
, as well as photos of Ireland and more about the Blacknall sisters and their adventures.
Slan go foill!

County Kildare, Ireland, 1790

L
ady Eliza Blacknall slipped through the front doors of her home, Killinan Castle, easing them shut behind her. The drive was
quiet, the length of white gravel gleaming under the moonlight. Her slippers whispered over the stone, her muslin skirts held
close to still their rustle as she ran toward a small walled garden. Free at last! Her parents’ dull party, and the dull fiancé
they intended for her, were left behind.