Page 29 of Dare to be Wicked

“He said nothing else to upset you?”

“No. Really, Lottie, do stop fussing about me. I need to wash and change before dinner, and so do you,” she added, giving Lottie the benefit of a critical glance.

Lottie felt her temper prick. “Eliza, you left us in an emotional state and said you were coming home for a good cry. I expected to find you weeping in your room.”

Eliza shrugged. “Well, I changed my mind. After all, there is nothing to weep about, is there? Cassius does not wish to marry me, and I realise now that he is quite correct, we would not have suited. Papa tried to tell me as much before we came here, but I did not listen. Well, I am listening now, and I realise he was right. He must be, for everyone else could see it too.”

“And that’s it? The man you believed you were in love with has broken things off and you feel nothing?” Lottie did not know why she was so annoyed by her sister’s words, but she was. If Cassius had broken things off with her, she would be wild with anguish, beyond consoling, and this ice-cold demeanour Eliza had adopted was unsettling and out of character.

“Would you prefer to see me prostrate with grief?” Eliza demanded, turning on her.

“No, of course not! Only—”

“Only it is what you expect of me, because that’s how young ladies behave in such circumstances? Or were you expecting me to be kind and pretend my humiliation is of no matter, to make everyone feel better by assuring them Cassius is still my friend and there are no hard feelings?”

Lottie hesitated, realising that was exactly what she had expected. She had assumed Eliza would cry in private and then make everything all right by assuring Cassius they were still friends, and everything could go on as before—even if it wasn’t true. That was what Eliza did: she smoothed wrinkles, she made everyone welcome and at ease, she was patient with insufferable relatives and people who had no manners. Now, Lottie saw that same sister give a snort of amusement.

“Well, perhaps I will, but I warn you, Lottie, I’m tired of doing what everyone expects of me. I’m tired of being the perfect young lady. You were quite right, after all. It was an act, not really who I am. Mr Demarteau saw through it, did he not? It is no wonder he despises me. He must think me a dreadful fraud, and I cannot say I blame him.”

“Eliza!” Lottie exclaimed, truly startled now. “How can you say so? It isn’t the least bit true. You are my sister and I know you better than I know myself. Yes, you hold your tongue when I would say something shocking, but that is because you are kind and patient.”

“Is it?” Eliza demanded. “Or is it because I have not the courage to say what I think? Honestly, Lottie, I do not know myself, but I think perhaps it is time I found out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must change, or I shall be late for dinner.”

Lottie watched as Eliza hurried off to her own room. She dithered in the corridor, uncertain of what to do. Footsteps behind her made her turn and her heart leapt as she saw Cassius. To her chagrin, tears sprang to her eyes and she swallowed hard.

“Lottie,” Cassius said, his expression dull, wretchedness in every line of his posture. “I’ve made such a mess of everything.”

Lottie felt a sob rise in her throat, and more than anything she wanted to run to him, to throw herself into his arms and find comfort there, but she could not. Her sister was hurt, no matter how coolly she might claim otherwise, and Lottie could not deepen her betrayal by running into the embrace of the man who had rejected her. Instead, she shook her head and ran to her own room.

Cassius endured dinner, there was no other word for it. Eliza appeared to be quite recovered and in high spirits, flirting with Louis César and laughing with Ash and Vivien, who seemed happy to encourage her. She wore a white satin robe that sat low on her shoulders and highlighted her dark hair and green eyes. Indeed, she looked exquisite. Neither did she ignore him as he so richly deserved, nor did anything by word or deed to make him feel guilty or ill at ease, and yet he was, desperately so. He wondered if it was his pride that was hurt—if perhaps he had expected, and even hoped, that she would appear sad and listless—but he had to believe he was better than that. As it was, he drank too much and tried not to watch Lottie, who by contrast was every bit as quiet and withdrawn as he might have expected of her sister. His chest ached with the desire to speak to her, to hold her, for tonight all the life and vivacity that usually shone in her eyes was gone. She looked lost and vulnerable, and so lovely that looking upon her hurt his heart.

“But where is your brother?” Eliza asked the comte, her tone nonchalant. “I expected to see him scowling at me over dinner. I am quite disappointed to discover him absent, for I had been determined to fence with him again if he gave me the opportunity.”

Louis César frowned and shook his head. “I am afraid I must apologise for my brother once more, my lady. He has gone.”

Shock flashed in Eliza’s eyes, there and gone before her usual self-possession returned, but Cassius saw and wondered at it.

“Gone?” she said, with the cool lift of one eyebrow. “So suddenly? My, he must find me reprehensible to have allowed me to drive him away.”

“Non!” Louis César replied, shaking his head. “I promise you, nothing could be further from the truth, though I admit Nic has not been himself of late. No, indeed, he had business which needed attending to in London. I still hope he may return, but… we shall see. He sends his sincere apologies to everyone for his abrupt departure.”

“Of course,” Eliza said. “But you must call me Elizabeth, for we are friends now, are we not?”

Louis César smiled at her, the kind of smile that had enticed women into scandal and fighting duels over him, and Cassius could not blame Eliza for the blush that rose to her cheeks as the full force of it was turned upon her. Damn, but the man was a bloody menace.

“Eleezabet,” Louis said, pronouncing it in the French style and making her name sound intimate and seductive. “I would be honoured.”

Chapter 10

Dear Diary,

I think I ought not wish for such amusements as I had hoped to see this summer. Falling in love and finding a husband is far harder than I thought.

Eliza is not herself and poor Lottie is pining for Cassius, who no one has seen at the house for almost a week. He’s hiding down at the summerhouse. I tried to speak to him, but he was in quite a surly mood and, though he was not the least unkind, I was not welcomed in his studio. He has thrown himself into a frenzy of painting and drawing and refuses to return to the party, despite his mother speaking to him quite sternly. I swear I did not eavesdrop only I was passing the summerhouse and the door was open and it was impossible not to hear the tone of her voice, even though I did not stay to hear what was said. I was proud of myself for it was very tempting to listen in, but I carried on walking and did not look back.

I just want everyone to be happy again. Papa says I must not interfere and that everyone will find their own way without my help. I am trying to be good and believe him, but everyone is making such a mess of things.

―Excerpt of an entry to the diary of Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington, youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.