Page 51 of Dare to be Wicked

The duchess gave a wry smile. “I’m sure that is a relief to everyone. The problem is, I’ve suspected that for some time and it does not seem to account for the fit of dismals Eliza has been experiencing. I have been trying to discover this past week or more what is making her so out of sorts and this morning I discover her in the midst of a temper fit, the likes of which I have never seen before.”

“Mama, I apologised for that already….” Eliza began, her mortification obvious.

“Stuff!” her mother said crossly. “It was about time. I’ve long despaired of you, my girl. I have never liked nor understood the passive face you show the world. It may well be the fashion for young ladies to act like a cross between a martyred saint and pretty watercolour painting, but I do not subscribe to it. Such behaviour will attract entirely the wrong sort of man, for one thing, one who expects docility and a woman who never challenges him. Where in heaven’s name was my temper, my defiant spirit? You’ve spent your entire life trying to please the world, Elizabeth, and it is about time that stopped. I was never more relieved to see anyone indulge in a fit of pique than I was this morning.”

Despite everything, Lottie giggled at the look of astonishment on Eliza’s face.

“Oh, shut up,” Eliza snapped at her.

Lottie shut up.

“Don’t push your luck,” her mother said, her tone dry. “The point remains that the temper tantrum and Cassius’s sudden proposal of marriage obviously have a connection, and I am not leaving this room until I know what it is. I assume that until recently you, Eliza, like the rest of us, were unaware of any romance between your sister and Cassius?”

“Until last night, yes.”

“And what happened last night that made you aware of the situation?”

The duchess looked around the room: at Cassius, who was studiously studying the empty grate as though it held the answers to the universe; to Eliza, who was approximately the colour of a ripe tomato; and then to Lottie, who knew she must be an identical shade of mortification and now edging towards puce. She squirmed under her mama’s enquiring gaze.

Her mother made a sound that Lottie was almost certain was a snort of laughter but that turned so swiftly to a cough she could not be sure.

“Cassius, fetch me a drink,” the duchess instructed, her voice somewhat strained.

Cassius leapt to do her bidding, reaching for the sherry.

“No, not that muck. The brandy, for heaven’s sake.”

Cassius fumbled the decanter, almost dropping the stopper, but poured out a generous measure. He handed their mother the brandy glass and took a deep breath.

“This is all my fault,” he said, his countenance pale and grave. “I’ve made a mess of everything. I truly believed I wanted to marry Eliza until I got closer to home. The closer I got, the more uncertain I was, and then… then when I got here and saw her, I realised how dear she was to me, and that I could not marry her because she was my dearest friend, and she deserved more than friendship from her husband. I am so sorry for the hurt that has been caused, and that I caused it makes my heart hurt, but she deserves to be loved, fully and unconditionally, by a man who can appreciate just how extraordinary she is.”

The duchess smiled. “Well said, Cassius. Eliza?”

Eliza looked up at her mother, her eyes very bright, and then she looked at Cassius, Lottie suspected for the first time since she’d entered the room. She nodded at him, in acceptance of his words, and of his apology.

“And what of Lottie?” asked mama.

Cassius gave a soft laugh.

“I wasn’t prepared,” he said. “It was like being hit by a locomotive. Any sense I considered I had deserted me, and… and I love her. I did not mean to, I certainly did not expect to, but I do.”

“Lottie?” Her mother gave her an expectant look.

Lottie nodded, her throat too thick to speak, though she knew she must. “Yes. I always have. I kept it secret all these years, for I knew I c-could not h-have him, but… yes.”

Eliza stared at her sister in outrage. “You loved him? You’ve always loved him and… and you never said?”

“How could I?” Lottie demanded. “He was yours, and I love you too. So much. I couldn’t bear to hurt you.”

Lottie jolted as if she’d been slapped at the scathing sound Eliza made.

“Eliza,” Cassius began, moving to intervene, but the duchess held him back, glaring at him to hold his tongue.

“When precisely did you decide you could bear it after all?”

Eliza’s voice was clipped and meticulous, her expression cold, and Lottie burned with shame, and with terror that her sister might never forgive her.

“I didn’t plan it,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But when I realised he… he felt the same, and once he had t-told you he wouldn’t marry you….”