Page 70 of Dare to be Wicked

Lottie beamed at her Aunt Helena. “It is lovely, isn’t it? It’s from Maison Blanchet. Madame Blanchet is so clever, she’s created such beautiful things for my trousseau.”

Helena sighed and leaned into her husband. “It’s so romantic. Do you remember when we were first married, Gabe?”

Uncle Gabriel glanced at her father and pulled a face.

“Vividly,” he said, his tone dry.

Everyone laughed, as all the family knew Helena and Gabe had eloped to Gretna Green and the duke had chased them all the way there, arriving in the nick of time to stop the marriage. He’d relented in the end, once he’d realised Gabriel was truly in love with his sister, and she with him. Gabriel Knight had a terrible reputation of course, a wicked industrialist, a self-made man who’d come from nothing, who’d had no place in the ton…until he’d made himself a place. With Helena’s help, naturally.

“I can’t believe you got married before me, Lottie,” Florence grumbled, her beautiful face the picture of consternation.

Helena and Gabe’s eldest daughter—Lottie’s cousin, Florence—was the same age as her and they’d always been dreadfully competitive.

“Well, it’s not like I planned it,” Lottie said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, dear, your time will come.”

Florence made a show of tossing her head with an imperious sniff, her thick black curls bouncing about her face. “Oh, do stop condescending to me, or I shall stamp on your toe.”

Lottie snorted with laughter, knowing full well Florence was only funning, even if she was a bit jealous.

“Sorry, Flo, but it’s not like you’re short of suitors,” Lottie said, taking the girl’s arm.

“Nor short of time to choose one,” Uncle Gabe put in. “So stop being in such a hurry.”

“Oh, Papa!” Florence said, shaking her head. “And yes, of course, I have suitors. They’re all deadly.”

Her father frowned.

“Dull,” Lottie explained hurriedly. “She means deadly dull, and didn’t I see you speaking to Viscount Roxborough at the Hely-Hutchinson party? He’s dreadfully handsome, and charming too.”

“And poor as a church mouse,” Uncle Gabe muttered, folding his arms.

“Oh, Papa! Not everyone can be as rich as Croesus,” Florence remonstrated, green eyes flashing.

“No,” her father replied mildly. “But they could be solvent.”

“You see,” Flo said, throwing up her hands. “You see what I must contend with?”

Sensing a row in the offing, Lottie took Florence by the hand. “Do come and see Ash and Vivien. I haven’t properly teased Ash yet for sobbing, and I’ve been so looking forward to it.”

She towed Florence away, moving through the room and squeaking with surprise as a hand slid about her waist.

“What mischief are you about, wife?” Cassius demanded, his voice low and intimate as he whispered in her ear.

Lottie shivered with anticipation, glancing up at him. “I was being a good friend and intervening before Florence got herself locked up in a nunnery for the foreseeable,” she said, finding herself blushing at the intent look in her husband’s eyes. Her husband! Good heavens.

“She’s trying to cheer me up with the prospect of mocking Ash for snivelling like a little girl during the ceremony,” Florence said with a sigh. “Which might work, to be fair.”

“Sounds fun,” Cassius said, grinning, and offered the ladies an arm each.

They paused to speak to his Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Jerry and their three girls on the way. The eldest two were twins, though unlike Viv and Ashton, no one would guessed it as they were quite different despite their blonde hair, having taken after their father.

“Don’t forget to throw your bouquet,” Greer said, grinning at Lottie. Her sister, Elspeth, who was far more serious, rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you sneer at me,” Greer said, bristling.

“I wasn’t sneering, Gee,” Elspeth replied patiently. “It’s just so silly. As if catching a bunch of flowers can determine when you marry.”

Greer folded her arms. “It’s tradition, and how do you know?”