Page 57 of Dare to be Wicked

“Ah, perfect,” she said, beaming at finding them together. “I’m so pleased you’ve made up. You have made up, haven’t you? I’m not missing broken china or pointy objects hidden under the pillows?”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mama.”

“Excellent, and don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. We need to arrange this wedding, and the sooner the better, it would seem, if what Eliza says is true… and when exactly did you take your clothes off, you wicked girl? And if there was anything more than posing for a drawing going on, you’d best tell me at once.”

“No, Mama!” Lottie went hot and cold in quick succession and was not entirely soothed by the obvious amusement in her mama’s eyes.

“Oh, do stop looking so missish,” the duchess said with a tsk. “You love each other, so something was bound to happen. But, Eliza, do not think for one moment I condone such behaviour, for I do not.”

“Mama!” Eliza said, outraged by the way her mother was wagging an admonishing finger at her.

“Well,” the duchess said thoughtfully. “It seems you are both more like your dreadful mother than anyone supposed, so I think we had best be prepared. Lottie, you were foolish, but Cassius is at least a gentleman, and someone to be relied upon. Far too many men are not, as unhappy women discover to their cost too often.”

“I’m not stupid, Mother,” Eliza replied, sounding impatient and unsettled by the conversation.

“Indeed, you are not, but the cleverest women can get themselves into tricky situations when desire raises its head. Just ask your soon to be mother-in-law,” she said, winking at Lottie.

Eliza glowered, looking surprisingly mutinous. “There is no danger of that, as my only suitor has been sent away in disgrace.”

“Your only suitor,” her mother replied with a snort. “Just you remember, my girl: a man who marries you, owns you. Not only your money, but everything. Your clothes and belongings become his, your body is no longer your own. If he wishes to beat you or lock you in your room, he is at liberty to do so and no one can stop him. You need to be very certain before you give yourself into his keeping. I’ll admit Louis César would be an unholy temptation to any woman, but you need to know a man’s soul as well as his heart before allowing yourself to trust him.”

“Yes, Mama,” Eliza said, serious now.

They knew Mama had good reason for fearing for them, for she had seen first-hand the dangers of a bad marriage. Her father had abused her mother and made her life a misery. No. No man could be taken at face value. Lottie felt a tremor of unease as she looked at her sister and considered the ill-mannered Mr Demarteau. They had already seen that he was capable of violence. Was this the kind of man her lovely, kind-hearted sister should take an interest in? No, certainly not, and Lottie must do all in her power to ensure Eliza did not fall prey to any foolish notions about him.

Their mama had not been joking when she had said a speedy wedding was in order. By midday they had a date, two weeks hence, and had agreed the wedding could take place at Holbrook House. Many of their friends lived close by, and as the family was already in residence, it seemed pointless to go elsewhere. They had begun the invitations list and arranged a visit to a new modiste that Matilda had discovered, and was quite enamoured of, to discuss the trousseau and the wedding gown.

Lottie had fretted at first, wondering if Eliza would resent all the fuss and excitement when it ought to have been for her, but she seemed genuinely happy and eager to join in. It seemed, at last, that everything would work out for the best.

“Thank goodness the rain has stopped,” Eliza said, looking out of the window after they had fortified themselves with tea, and some tempting platters of good, strong cheese served with tart green apples and plums. “I do believe the sun will show itself too. I shall go for a ride and get some fresh air, I think, for all this plotting and planning has given me a headache. Will you come?”

Lottie yawned and stretched, knowing some exercise and fresh air would be a good idea, but pondering that she’d not seen Cassius all day and that she had promised to visit him down at the summerhouse.

Eliza laughed before Lottie could answer. “Never mind. Go and see him before you faint with longing. You know, I realise now what a lucky escape we both had. I have never craved to be with Cassius in the way I can see you do. There is nothing the least bit romantic between us, and it is only now I appreciate the difference. Papa was right. Marrying your friend is not perhaps a bad thing, but there needs to be more than that… I need more than that.”

“Yes,” Lottie replied, quite grave in her reply. “Yes, you do.”

Eliza nodded, gave Lottie a wry smile, and hurried away to get changed.

Chapter 18

Dear Diary,

I am so relieved that everyone is happy again. Cassius and Lottie are to be married! It is so exciting, especially now Lottie and Eliza have made up, and Eliza holds no ill will towards either her or Cassius. All is right in the world and they will be married here at Holbrook which means we can stay longer. The perfect summer. The twins, Ashton and Vivien are staying too, which is wonderful, for Ash is such fun. I do adore him. I only wish Louis César would come back, perhaps even Mr Demarteau for they added a little excitement, perhaps because they are new and unpredictable. Life is always more thrilling when one has no idea what will happen next.

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

17th July 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.

“Like this?”

Cassius felt his breath catch as Lottie tilted her head as instructed. The sunshine which had begun so tentatively once the clouds had cleared was now hot and fierce and caught the thick tresses of her hair, burnishing them like old gold and illuminating her profile. She looked like an angel. It sounded trite, so much so he could hardly bear to say it out loud, but it was true. Looking at her hurt his heart, made something inside him ache with tenderness, with the desire to love and protect her always. Unable to resist the temptation, he went to her, bent his head and kissed her, just a soft press of lips that was still a mistake as it left him restless and short of breath.

“Perfect,” he said, moving away with difficulty. “In fact, could you be just a little less perfect? My desire to paint you is being overridden by other, less wholesome yearnings.”

“Really?” she said, her eyes lighting with interest. “That sounds fascinating.”

“It is, but you must stop being fascinated, for your mama only allowed you to sit for me alone on condition I had work to show her when she comes to see us later. If I have a blank canvas for my allotted two hours, we shall both be in the basket.”