Page 23 of Just a Little Daring

Agatha nodded, bright enough to see the incoming tide of trouble, and hurried away, and just in time, as a florid faced man loomed in front of Louis, who steeled himself for a confrontation. The Marquess of Attingham was not a pleasant fellow under good circumstances, which these certainly were not.

“Where is that wicked girl? She hit my daughter!”

“It was self-defence. Your daughter attacked her for no reason,” Louis replied calmly. “I suggest you teach your children better manners.”

“How dare you! I’m not taking instructions on manners from a bloody frog!”

Before Louis could utter another word, someone leapt to his defence.

“You rude man! Is it any wonder your daughter is so ill-mannered?”

Louis turned an exasperated glare upon Evie. “I will handle this.”

Vivien’s gaze drifted from the ensuing argument and back to the monkey. Now the object of her ire had departed, the maker of the knitted article snatched it away from the monkey, who chattered at her angrily. The girl hurried away, taking the red knit creation with her. Looking around for something else to focus on, the monkey’s eyes lit on a something that piqued its interest. Standing next to the angry man confronting Louis was a large lady—perhaps his marchioness—resplendent in a lavish burgundy velvet gown, which was rather de trop for such an affair as this. With skill that suggested training, the monkey climbed up the back of a woman’s gown, undid the clasp of a glittering ruby necklace, and leapt up to the rafters of the hall.

“My rubies!” wailed the woman, her hands going to her throat. “Oh! Thief! Thief! That monkey took my rubies.”

“What?” bellowed the florid faced man. At once, he forgot Louis and raised his fist at the scampering capuchin. “I’ll have the little beast’s head! Those damned rubies are worth a fortune. Ten pounds to the fellow who shoots the little rat down.”

A murmur of interest rippled around the crowd.

“Oh, Louis!” Evie exclaimed, clutching at the comte’s sleeve. “Don’t let him hurt it.”

The comte gave a sigh of resignation that suggested he’d known anything to do with monkeys had been bound to end this way. “As you wish, ma petite.”

Vivien stared at Mr Lane-Fox, who was looking deeply unhappy. Perhaps aware of her gaze, he turned to her.

“I ought not to have done it. I don’t know what gets into me,” he said, shaking his head. “You see? This is what happens. I cause chaos and other people take the blame for it. It must stop. I’m not a boy any longer.”

Vivien bit her lip, trying to smother a laugh. “You ought not have, but I cannot pretend I regret it, though we must save the dratted monkey. Oh, August, it was marvellous. You are marvellous.”

He looked startled by her declaration, as well he might, for it was dreadfully improper, not to mention addressing him by his given name. She didn’t care.

“No,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m not the least bit marvellous. I’m just a troublemaker with a knack for avoiding trouble.”

Vivien took his arm and leaned into him, her gaze upon his face unwavering. “I disagree, and I like you. Very much.”

He studied her face for a long moment and then turned as a collective gasp fluttered through the room. “Devil take it. I’d best try to intervene. It seems this is not yet over,” he muttered, and looked up.

Chapter 8

Louis,

What in the name of everything holy have you been up to?

―Excerpt of a letter from Monsieur Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau to his brother, Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen. Translated from French.

23rd February 1841, The Marchioness of Bainbridge’s Fancy Fair, Mayfair, London.

Louis ignored the ranting marquess and turned his back on him as Mr Lane-Fox stepped into the breach and tried to talk the loathsome fellow down. Instead, he regarded the monkey and muttered a curse. There was a stir now among many of the menfolk and he didn’t doubt some halfwit would produce a pistol in short order. If they killed the wretched monkey, both Evie and Agatha would be beside themselves. That was unacceptable.

The building that housed the Fancy Fair was an enormous barn with a ceiling that looked rather like the upturned belly of a great ship. Naturally, the monkey had climbed to the farthest point, about twenty feet high.

Louis’ fingers twitched. He ought not. He really ought not. Yet the idea was so tantalising….

“Oh, Louis, they’ll kill it!” Evie said, clutching harder at his sleeve. “The poor thing, and Aggie will be distraught.”

Louis turned to her and ached with longing at the concern in her big green eyes. Such a tender heart this woman had, so full of love and affection, always trying to keep everyone safe and happy. Would she ever look at him as anything more than a friend?