Page 52 of Dare to be Wicked

“Was that when you took your clothes off for him?”

Lottie gasped, clutching her arms about herself, still stunned that Eliza of all people should betray her in front of their mother.

“Still think I’m trying to please the world, Mama?” Eliza demanded, though her expression was stricken, tears pouring down her face.

With that, she leapt to her feet and fled the room, slamming the door behind her.

There was a spectacular silence.

“Well,” the duchess said with a sigh. “That went rather better than I expected.”

Lottie stared out at the lake and wondered how many other people had come to the water’s edge with despair in their hearts. She ought to be overjoyed. Cassius had asked to marry her, and her parents had agreed, and that… that was everything she had ever dreamed of. How could she enjoy it, though, if it came at the expense of her sister’s happiness? She knew she was not stealing Cassius from Eliza, and she was certain Eliza did not view it that way either, but the way it had happened….

She groaned and prised up a small stone from the ground, lobbing it furiously into the water where it fell with a disconsolate plop, which was most unsatisfying. She wished she were a man and could go and hit something.

“Lady Charlotte?”

Lottie turned in shock, not having heard anyone approach and frustrated to discover someone had tracked her down as she wasn’t feeling the least bit sociable.

“Oh, good afternoon, Louis César. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m not very good company today. I should leave while you have the chance.”

He gave a soft laugh and shook his head. “I believe this is why Cassius has fallen head over ears for you. There is nothing but honesty in your heart, and it makes its way to your mouth with very little to moderate it.”

Lottie flushed, a little indignant, but Louis César held up a hand.

“That was a compliment, if you missed it. After all, you could have pretended to be pleased for my company and let me prattle on, which would have been mortifying. Your way is by far preferable.”

“Well, it is true, so you may do as you please, but I warn you I may well pick a quarrel with you, or even cry. So there.”

He arranged himself on the ground beside her and pulled out a handkerchief, placing it on his knee.

“I enjoy a good quarrel, and I always come prepared for such eventualities,” he said, gesturing gravely at the handkerchief.

Lottie snorted.

“Nic found the drawings,” he said, giving her an apologetic glance.

For a moment, after everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Lottie did not realise what he was saying. Then understanding dawned and, for the second time that day, she felt herself grow hot and an unattractive shade of red.

“Oh!” she said, mortified. “Oh, my….”

Louis César shrugged. “I did not tell you to cause you discomfort, and you need not fret that either of us will ever breathe a word about it for we never shall, upon my honour. Only, I did not wish you think badly of my brother for what he did. He can be… difficult, but he never acts without reason, and he felt Cassius had not treated Lady Elizabeth with the respect she deserves. Nic did not know, of course, that Cassius was in love with you, or meant to marry you. I have now explained matters, and he knows he acted rashly—félicitations à vous deux, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Lottie replied, though she could barely meet his eyes.

When she did, she saw amusement there.

“We are French, my lady,” he said, a teasing note to his words. “I promise you we are not the least bit shocked. I am only impressed that you managed it under the eyes of so many chaperones.”

“They would never think I needed chaperoning with Cassius. They assumed he was like a brother to me. So did Eliza,” she added sadly.

To her surprise, Louis César reached over and patted her hand. “Do not fret, ma chère, your sister is not the kind to hold a grudge. I know she is hurt and angry, and perhaps her pride is wounded most of all, but she will forgive you. Lady Elizabeth is too good-hearted and kind not to.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Lottie said, her voice quavering, and she was uncertain if she was agreeing or asking a question. “Eliza is so kind, the very best sister in the world, and I… I couldn’t bear it if….”

Silently, Louis César handed her the handkerchief. Lottie buried her face in it, laughing and crying at the same time.

“I hope she marries you,” she said, once she’d gathered herself again. “It was very nice of you to come and speak with me, to explain, and to bear my weeping. Many men would run a mile rather than endure that.”