Page 34 of Dare to be Wicked

“Going? Oh, umm… for a walk, I suppose,” Eliza said with a vague wave of her hand as she left Lottie alone.

Lottie stared after her, utterly perplexed. She was not alone for long. Why on earth was the library so popular this afternoon?

“Ah, here is sleeping beauty,” Ash said, walking into the room and throwing himself casually down in the chair beside her.

Somehow, he still looked exquisitely elegant, sprawled with his long legs stretched out before him and his arms flopped out on either side, even with the addition of his outrageous waistcoat. It was lilac silk today, with ivy leaves twining across his chest embroidered in gold thread. His sister followed behind and tsked at his abandoned pose, before turning her gaze upon Lottie with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Look at him. He thinks he’s as glamorous as a Maharajah, as impressive as a magnificent Indian prince. I’m afraid no one is going to recline on silken pillows and peel you a grape, Ashton dear, no matter how you long for it.”

“I long for no such thing,” he said, indignation in his blue eyes. “I only wish to be adored unconditionally. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Yes,” Lottie and Vivien said in unison.

“But I am adorable,” Ash replied, looking mystified by their response.

“Yes, my dear,” Vivien replied, her tone soothing and more than a touch condescending, as if she were placating a difficult child. “On occasion that might be true, but the only kind of girl who would adore you unconditionally would also bore you silly. You need someone aggravating, someone to shake you up a bit and make you exert yourself.”

“That doesn’t sound the least bit comfortable,” Ash replied, folding his arms.

“No,” Vivien said with a smug smile. “It doesn’t, does it?”

“Why do want me to be miserable?” he demanded of her, sitting up straighter now.

Vivien laughed at the look on his face. “Oh, you silly creature. I don’t. I want you to be happy, and you never will be if it’s too easy. You are too like me, too like Mama, truth be told. We bore easily.”

Ash snorted, and then as if by mutual accord—though nothing was said—they turned their attention to Lottie.

“Well, then?” they asked.

She had noticed before now that they often seemed to know what one another was thinking without saying a word. “You do know it is creepy when you do that,” she groused, glaring at them.

They laughed and Lottie huffed. “Very amusing, I’m sure.”

“Answer the question,” Ash said impatiently.

“Was that a question?” Lottie demanded, wondering if she’d missed something.

“Oh, come, come,” Vivien said, giving a dramatic sigh. “Cassius did not come with us last night and at the last moment you cried off with a megrim, which I’ve never known you to have in your life before. You’re always disgustingly healthy and full of the joys.”

Ash nodded his agreement. “Which means you had an ulterior motive.”

Lottie flushed. Really, it was quite unfair that she felt so wretchedly guilty, for she had not stayed behind to snatch at an opportunity to see Cassius. She felt ashamed enough without plotting to see him behind her sister’s back. Nevertheless, she had seen him, had kissed him, had stripped bare and allowed him to gaze upon her as no man had ever done before. Worse than that, she had desperately wanted him to do a great deal more than gaze. She still did. Lottie was restless and fretful and agitated, and she felt very much as if she might burst into flames. He’d barely touched her, but the look in his eyes had been eloquent enough, and now the aching need for him was so distracting she didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or cry. No… she knew. She wanted to run down to the summerhouse and demand that he put her out of her misery. Now. At once!

“Oh, my. It’s worse than I thought,” Ashton murmured, a knowing look in his eyes that made her feel hot all over.

“It isn’t.” She put up her chin, glaring back at him. “I did not stay behind to see him!”

“Keep your voice down,” Vivien hissed, gesturing to the open door.

Lottie groaned and put her head in her hands. “Oh, I’m horrible. I’m a horrible person and I don’t deserve to be happy.”

“Well, I know you’re horrible, obviously,” replied a matter-of-fact voice that could only belong to a sibling.

Lottie sat up straighter as her brother strolled in. She’d not seen much of Jules, who had been very vague about his whereabouts since they arrived and could never be found. She suspected the barmaid at The King’s Head. Whispering among the staff led her to believe she was a pretty girl and ‘vastly accommodating.’ This was usually said with a wink and a tone of amusement that led Lottie to draw her own conclusions.

“Oh, go away, Jules,” she said crossly.

“Why should I?” he demanded. “You’ve just admitted you are a horrible person, which I’ve been telling you for years, but I’m fascinated to know why you’ve suddenly realised I’m correct.”