Page 12 of Dare to be Wicked

She held out her inky fingers and they both laughed. Their darling mama was a writer of some renown, and her fingers were generally ink-stained. She tried to hide them with gloves but, as she could not write with gloves on and the urge to jot down an idea would come over her at the oddest moment, she would take out her notebook and shed her gloves accordingly. They turned up in the most peculiar places. As children, their favourite bedtime story had been one their mother had written about a pair of gloves separated by accident, and the adventures they had endured before they were once again reunited. She seemed convinced they had a life of their own. As a child, Lottie had believed it too.

“Anyway, do run along and get changed. The comte has asked if he might escort you on a walk to the village.”

“Me?” Eliza asked in surprise.

“No, child, I meant to address Harry… of course you! Whyever not? He’s an eligible gentleman, and a stunningly beautiful specimen too, if I’m any judge.”

“Mama!” they said in unison.

The duchess smirked at them. “Girls, I am not in my dotage yet, and I have eyes in my head. Besides, a fellow like that is hard to miss.”

“But isn’t he a little… scandalous?” Eliza said.

Lottie regarded the rising colour in her sister’s cheeks and realised she was nervous.

“Oh, pish.” Mama waved a hand in irritation. “So was your father. You must decide for yourself what kind of man he is, and it is only a walk. Matilda and Harriet and I will chaperone, so it is quite unexceptional. I’m certain Cassius would not have brought people to his home if he believed any ill of them. Lottie, you may come too and keep his brother company. Now, I believe he is rather scandalous, but I shall keep a close eye so there is nothing to worry about.”

“Come along, Eliza. It will be fun,” Lottie urged, refusing to consider her own motivation for getting her sister to spend time with a man who was not Cassius.

Eliza shrugged. “Very well. I shall get changed and be down directly.”

Chapter 5

Dearest Harriet,

You must be so happy to have Cassius back home with you again. At this exact moment I could certainly wish my children in France for there is never a moment’s peace in the castle. I do not mean it, of course, but I should be pleased if they could keep their tempers in check for above five minutes together. Four such headstrong young people make the castle appear far too small to hold us all. Lyall and Georgina especially enjoy rattling the old walls, bellowing back and forth at each other. I am more than tempted to take up the offers I have had from many of the Peculiar Ladies and send the lot of them away in different directions. Of course, the moment I do so, I shall regret it and miss them all horribly.

― Excerpt of a letter to Harriet Cadogan, Countess St Clair from her good friend Ruth Anderson, Countess of Morven.

30th June 1838, Holbrook Village, Sussex.

“I’m afraid you will find the village quaint and rather dull after your time in Paris,” Lottie said, looking up at the forbidding features of the man walking beside her as they approached the cluster of buildings huddled about the village green.

“Why would you think so?”

Lottie hesitated, somewhat daunted by the intimidating Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau. His thick eyebrows drew together as he looked down at her and, though she had never considered herself a hen-hearted creature, she found she was not altogether comfortable in his presence.

“Well, let me see… over there are a baker’s and a butcher’s shop, a chandler, a blacksmith and, just out of sight around the corner, you will find a haberdashery.” At his blank expression she hurried to explain. “That is a place where you may buy fabric and small items such as buttons and ribbon and thread. There is the pub, but I imagine it’s not terribly exciting for a man who runs a club such as Rouge et Noir.”

He cast a curious glance in her direction. “What do you know of Rouge et Noir?”

“Oh, a great deal,” Lottie said at once, and then blushed as those dark eyebrows rose. “I mean… that is… Well, Phoebe—Lady Ellisborough—has told us much about it. She so enjoyed her time in Paris, and her description of Rouge et Noir quite captivated us all. I believe she has ambitions to play cards with you again.”

Mr Demarteau smirked. “I believe it is my brother she wishes to challenge, not I.”

As he spoke, his gaze slid to his brother who was walking a little ahead of them with Eliza. Eliza had her hand on the comte’s arm and was looking up at him and laughing at something he said. They made a perfectly dazzling couple. Mr Demarteau’s gaze lingered on them for a moment as his eyes darkened with some strong emotion, and his jaw grew tight. Lottie felt her heart skip. Oh, goodness. The man truly had taken her sister in dislike, but she could not imagine how sweet Eliza could have offended him, and in such a short space of time. Unless Cat really was onto something and she reminded him of someone who had broken his heart.

She pondered this for a moment before asking, “Do you hope to find yourself an English wife while you are here, Mr Demarteau?”

His head snapped around so fast, and the look in his eyes was so outraged, that Lottie was quite taken aback.

“I do not,” he said, or perhaps growled better described the way he uttered the words.

Lottie swallowed and then felt a surge of anger towards the man. How dare he glower at her sister so? Was he so deluded he thought Eliza not good enough to marry his brother? Louis César de Montluc might well be a comte, but Eliza was the eldest daughter of a duke.

“They make a splendid pair, don’t they?” she said, studying his face for a reaction. “I am so lucky to have a sister like Eliza. Everyone loves her, you know. She is the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful woman in the world. She will make the perfect wife for some lucky man, for she never says the wrong thing and is always concerned with everyone else’s comfort above her own. She quite puts me to shame, as I am not nearly so accomplished either. She sews beautifully and speaks French and Italian, her piano playing is quite the best I’ve ever heard, and she has the sweetest singing voice. Oh, and she adores children, and they her, naturally. I know she wishes for a family as large as our own. Of course she could have anyone she chose. She had so many offers of marriage this last season I’ve quite lost track. Did you know both a duke and a marquess offered for her? But Mama told her she need not rush to make any decisions yet.”

Lottie frowned. Instead of easing whatever ridiculous concerns the man might harbour about her sister’s worth, her words only seemed to make matters worse. The arm beneath her hand had become rigid with tension.