Page 19 of Dare to be Wicked

A little bird tells me you have been made welcome by the Earl of St Clair, and that you have your sights on marrying a duke’s daughter. I commend you on your choices. Bedwin would be a powerful ally and silence the wagging tongues that persist in turning over the details of your past. I wonder if he would recognise me after all these years. Perhaps I should quit Paris too, and consider showing my face to polite society again? I am bored enough to consider it might be entertaining. Now that would give them something to talk about.

―Excerpt of letter to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen, signed… Wolf.

1st July 1838, The Summerhouse, Holbrook, Sussex.

Cassius groaned and clutched at his head.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, blinking against the dazzling light pouring through the studio windows. He squinted as the door open and did his best to focus on the blurry figure that had stepped inside.

“I thought as much,” his father said.

“Oh, please, Pa, don’t scold, I promise you I’m being punished enough.”

“As if I would?” his sire retorted, holding a basket aloft. “I bring coffee.”

“Thank God. You are the very best of fathers, sir,” Cassius murmured, collapsing back into the chair and rubbing his temples.

The earl nodded and began unpacking the basket. “This is true, so I shan’t bother to pretend modesty.”

“Did Mother send you?”

“No need. I observed last night how utterly blue devilled you were, not to mention the fact that you clearly wanted to poke Ashton’s pretty eyes out with a sharp stick.”

“Damnation. Was it that obvious?”

His father glanced back with a wry smile and Cassius groaned and closed his eyes.

“Have you spoken to Eliza yet?”

Cassius peeled his eyes open again to see his father holding out a mug of coffee for him. He took it, curling his hands about the mug and taking a tentative sip. It was hot and strong and heavily dosed with sugar.

“No.”

His father said nothing for a moment, returning to pour out his own mug of coffee before picking up a chair and moving it closer. He sat down and sipped his drink, regarding his son with a benign expression that was nonetheless capable of making Cassius feel like a rat.

“I’m going to,” Cassius said, his stomach twisting itself back into a Gordian knot. “I swear I will, only… only she’ll be so kind and understanding and honestly I’d far rather she shouted at me and told me I was a heartless brute. I’m sure I deserve it.”

The earl smiled, such sympathy in his eyes Cassius felt worse than ever. “No, you don’t. You both had a lovely vision of what the future could be, but you were children, and the idea did not grow with you. You made each other no promises, and your heart cannot be manipulated into loving someone you feel you ought to love. It is not your fault you’ve fallen in love with her sister, either, though I admit that is dashed awkward, and does rather complicate matters.”

Cassius gaped at him.

“Oh, come on. It was obvious. What other reason could you have for wanting to murder one of your closest friends? I admit Ashton’s waistcoat was somewhat challenging, but I don’t believe it was outrageous enough to provoke such violent emotion as I saw in your eyes at dinner.”

“Did anyone else notice?” he demanded, feeling wretched now.

His father shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but I did, and others will, and eventually Eliza will figure it out. Though I have a suspicion she might not be as heartbroken as you suspect.”

Cassius sat up straighter. “Why do you say that?”

“Haven’t you seen the way she watches your friend, Mr Demarteau? She seems rather fascinated, though I’m not honestly certain if she is interested or merely horrified by how rude he is to her.”

“Nic?” Cassius said in horror. “Oh, good God, no. He’s… he’s… and Eliza is—”

“Good heavens, you’ve gone as white as a sheet, Cass. I admit he’s a surly fellow, but I quite like him, and I assumed he was someone you trusted. Tell me, you’d not have brought him here if he was beyond the pale?”

Cassius shook his head, uncertain of what to say. “Nic is a decent fellow underneath the glowering exterior, honourable in his own way and a good friend, but… but the life he’s lead in Paris, Father. He’s not the kind of fellow Eliza would wish to marry. He’s hardly good ton. Not that I care, but Eliza….”

His father shrugged and got to his feet. He smiled down at Cassius and rested his hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Women surprise you, Cass, and perhaps you don’t know Eliza as well as you think you do. Either way, that is her affair, not yours. Speak to her, though, and do it soon. Perhaps she will be as relieved as you.”