Page 65 of Dare to be Wicked

“It will,” Lottie agreed, turning back to the mirror for a moment to admire her gown. She smiled at her reflection and caught Eliza’s eye in the looking glass. “Now that you are well enough to be there it will, anyway.”

Eliza beamed at her, and then her smile faltered.

“I remembered,” she said. “What happened that day.”

Lottie needed no explanation to deduce what day she was speaking of. By tacit agreement neither she nor Mama had pressed Eliza, or questioned her over Mr Demarteau. She was too easily upset and agitated, and her memory remained hazy in places. They did not wish to do or say anything to cause her anxiety.

Lottie turned and hurried to her.

“I climbed the walls,” she said, staring at Lottie in consternation. “Why would I do that? I was all alone, and my skirts were heavy. Why would I be so foolish?”

Lottie shook her head. “I don’t know, love but… are you certain you were alone?”

Eliza gave her a sharp glance. “Why would you think otherwise? Who would I be with?”

“Mr Demarteau.”

Eliza gasped, one hand going to her throat. “You think… you think I went there to meet him?”

Lottie shrugged. “You told me you were infatuated with him and… well, it’s the kind of thing I would do, Eliza, if I were in love with a man.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Eliza said, staring at Lottie with an expression she could not read. Then she gave a little huff of laughter. “Well, you may set your mind at ease. I never have been, nor ever will be as brave as you. I was alone. I was alone and clearly out of my senses. I have no explanation for it, except… except I remember feeling restless and wild, like I wanted to escape. It was as though the abbey walls represented the bars of a cage and…. Oh, what nonsense.”

“Not nonsense,” Lottie said, understanding the sensation all too well. “And you will be strong enough soon to do just as you wish. You may be as bold and reckless as you please, only don’t go climbing any walls without me.”

Eliza laughed. “Oh, I won’t. I promise.”

Cassius stood back, staring at the painting. Pride and love and a swell of emotion that felt far too large to hold inside of him pushed at the confines of his chest. He swallowed hard and told himself to stop being such a silly blighter, but he knew Lottie would love it and he could not wait to show it to her. He had not returned to it until they were certain that Eliza would recover. The weeks had been hard on them both. He had felt guilt for his happiness in being with Lottie and he knew she felt it too. How could they be happy when Eliza was trapped in some sleeping world, neither alive nor dead but somehow suspended between the two? The relief when she had awoken that first time had been so overpowering that he’d wept. He had missed his friend badly, and he could not bear for Lottie to endure the loss of her sister any more than he could bear losing someone he had loved and relied upon since he was a small boy.

But that was over. Eliza was still as weak as a kitten, but she was a determined young woman who hated being an invalid. She would recover and return to being the kind, generous friend and sister they knew and loved.

Regretfully, he reached for the cloth to cover the painting of Lottie back up again and turned as the door to the summerhouse burst open.

“Cassius!”

Lottie’s voice filled the room, joyous and excited as she ran to him and flung her arms about his neck. Cassius staggered back a step and put his arms about her.

“What is it?” he asked, uncertain whether or not to be alarmed, yet she was smiling and happy.

“I love you!” she said, beaming at him. “And my dress is glorious, and we are getting married in two days!”

He laughed, delighted by her, and then cursed as her eyes widened and she saw the painting.

“Drat you, Lottie! That’s your wedding present. You weren’t supposed to see it yet.”

“Oh,” she said, her mouth falling open and her big blue eyes becoming very bright. “Oh, Cass.”

Cassius sighed and moved behind her, sliding his arms about her waist and pulling her back against him as she stared at her portrait. He couldn’t be cross with her for long, it was impossible, and he had been impatient for her to see it in any case.

It was just as he’d envisaged it. She was beautiful, almost ethereal with the sunlight creating a nimbus of golden light about her blonde hair. The white gown only enhanced the feeling of purity and innocence, yet there was a twinkle in her eyes that was entirely Lottie and promised the viewer that this young woman was no idealised image of perfection. She was a real girl, with a mischievous soul, the sort of girl one could spend a lifetime loving and being surprised by. He had every intention of doing just that.

She leaned back into him and sighed. “I thought you were supposed to paint the truth, warts and all? I’m quite sure I’m nothing like as beautiful as that.”

“You’re wrong,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I shall never tire of painting you. I shall paint you in Italy and Egypt and India, and here at home too, and I shall never grow bored. Not even when you are a very fat old lady, and your hair is white. I will paint you with our children, and our grandchildren and every time I shall think, Cassius, you lucky devil.”

She turned and grinned at him. “I want a big family, like mine.”

“Eight children?” Cassius said, quailing a little at the idea. “Ah, well. Whatever you like, love. You always get your own way in the end, after all.”