Page 39 of Just a Little Daring

“Poor August,” she said, her heart aching. “He’s too decent, that’s the trouble.”

“He was taken up for brawling, love,” her father said, amusement lacing his voice.

“And how many times have you seen the inside of a police cell, Papa?” Vivien demanded curtly.

Papa laughed. “There, there, my pretty tigress, put away your claws. I agree, he seems a decent young man with an overabundance of difficult relations and good intentions.”

“I know,” Viv said with a groan. “He thinks he must protect me from the world, and for a little while there, I agreed with him we would not be a suitable match.”

“So he said.” Papa went to stand by the window, admiring the late afternoon sun glittering on an expanse of cobalt perfection as the sea sparkled before them. “But I collect you have changed your mind.”

Viv nodded. “Yes. At least, no, not exactly. It’s more a case of accepting the inevitable.”

Her father frowned at her. “Explain.”

“He’s the one, Papa. I know he is, and it doesn’t matter if life would be easier with Ashburton or Blackstone or one of their ilk. It doesn’t matter if his family is mad or outrageous or indecent or whatever it is he is so worried about. It doesn’t matter if we create scandal after scandal until we are no longer welcome in polite society. Indeed, the more I think of it, the more I believe I want to create those scandals. Why should I be above reproach for the sake of people who would disdain me if not for fear of your reprisals? Why should I care what they think? Why not just live my life as I want to live it, and with the man I want to live it with?”

Her father’s eyes glittered a little too brightly, and he held out his arms to her. Vivien went into them, hugging him. “So like your mother,” he whispered. “Mr Lane-Fox is the luckiest man alive, beside myself, of course.”

Vivien snorted. “I’m not sure he sees it that way, Papa. He wishes he’d never met me.”

Papa chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “He told me he thinks you should marry Blackstone, or Ashburton, as he has already suggested. I said I would give you that advice by the by. If you actually considered such a thing, he’d be beside himself, naturally. I think the poor fellow just needs a little time to realise what’s good for him. He’s got spirit, that boy, else he’d have not got into that scrape today dealing out retribution for you. He’s just overwhelmed. I believe he was at his wits’ end before he even met you, and with good reason, from what I hear of his female kin. And now you’ve turned his world upside down and inside out, and believe me, I know the feeling. He’ll come about, love. You wait and see.”

“I hope so,” Viv said, despondently. “Or else I shall have to kidnap him, or do something desperate.”

“Please do not say things like that in my hearing,” her father said, glaring at her. “You’re turning me grey with worry.”

“Who is turning you grey?”

Papa turned, his expression softening as Mama came into the room.

“Both of you. How is a man to keep his wits when he is husband to one of the two most beautiful and daring women in the country, and father to the other? I ask you. It’s a wonder I am not entirely white.”

“You know as well as I that a little daring is to be admired, Silas, and you are getting vain in your old age,” Mama teased, lifting on tiptoes to kiss his cheek and touch a finger to the fine sprinkling of grey at Papa’s temple. “Either that, or you do not worry half as much as you pretend, for there is barely any grey visible at all.”

“There was none yesterday,” he grumbled, though he was clearly enjoying Mama’s attention, preening a little as she stoked his nape.

“Did you release Mr Lane-Fox and his friend from incarceration?” she asked him, worry in her eyes.

Papa sighed. “Your daughter asked me to, therefore it is done.”

“Excellent. Such a relief. I hated to think of them locked up, the poor dears. Vivien, darling, Evie and Aisling came around earlier. They have asked you to go to Aisling’s room. I believe they were worried about the young men, too. Put their minds at rest. Ash will escort you through the hotel.”

“Yes, Mama,”

Vivien hurried to the door and smiled as she closed it firmly, so no curious servants could gawk at the sight of the Viscount Cavendish hauling his wife into a passionate embrace.

“Thank goodness,” Aisling said, her relief palpable. The three of them had clambered onto Aisling’s bed. Evie flopped back across the foot of the mattress, her arms outstretched over her head, while Aisling arranged the pillows behind her until she was comfy. The bed was barely visible beneath the froth of skirts and petticoats of their voluminous gowns.

Vivien smiled at her. “I might have thought you’d be happy to have Mr Cootes locked up. He is the most vexing man in the world, after all.”

Aisling’s dark brows drew together. “Just because I dislike him, does not mean I wish him any harm Only to be as far away from me as possible.”

“You still dislike him, Aisling?” Evie asked, swinging her legs back and forth off the end of the bed and making her petticoats rustle. “Even after he stood up for you so gallantly?”

“He… He behaved well, I admit, but—”

“But?” Evie asked, turning on her side and propping her head on her hand to gaze at Aisling.