Page 42 of Just a Little Daring

“I was only supposed to be down for a few days, but then I bumped into this gorgeous creature and could not resist the temptation of staying just a little longer.” Jules gave Vivien a wink, raising her gloved hand to his lips, and she lowered her eyes, blushing a little.

August felt the panic that had assailed him earlier bloom into something else, something wild and unreasonable as jealousy churned in his guts. Christ. Jules never spoke to Viv like that. They always bickered, insulted each other, unless… unless she had taken August’s advice. The advice her father said he would second. And perhaps Blackstone had realised he had something precious within his grasp and he ought not to waste a moment.

“The dance is beginning, my lord,” Vivien said softly, avoiding August’s eye.

“Oh, so it is. Well, excuse us. Duty calls,” Jules said, grinning and leading Vivien out onto the floor.

Chapter 14

Monsieur,

Excuse me if my handwriting is erratic. I cannot stop giggling at the idea of you being a lapdog. Too funny! What a ridiculous comparison. Now, if there were such a thing as a lap tiger, or panther, or even a lion, that I could see, though it would be an uncomfortable thing indeed, to have such a creature in one’s lap, I’m sure.

However, I am pleased you came, though do not make out it was only for my sake, for I shall not believe you. The entire world is here, and no doubt your latest amour among the throng. I admit I could not discover who your latest flirt is. I can usually tell as the women preen so and look so pleased with themselves, but whoever this lady is, she is remarkably sanguine. Have you met your match, Monsieur? Is she not as impressed with you as she ought to be when in the presence of such a godlike figure?

I should love to see Provence one day. To walk in the lavender fields and to gaze upon a sea of impossible blue. Yet, I wonder if I ever shall. You know I am a homebody and travelling seems such a lot of bother.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.

13th April 1841, The Duke of York Hotel, Brighton.

“I wish we had not listened to Nani Maa’s advice. That was not well done of us, Jules,” Vivien said, her insides tied in a knot.

She wanted to run away from the ballroom and all its so elegant guests, but she was dancing in the arms of a man who was not the one she wanted.

Jules spun her into another graceful turn, and it was a moment before he replied. “I don’t know why you’d say so. It worked beautifully. I’m wasted as a marquess, you know. I could do great things on the stage. I’m certain the poor dolt believes I’m halfway in love with you already.”

“Oh, don’t,” Vivien moaned, utterly wretched. “I ought never have let him think it.”

“Why did you not open your mouth, then? Perhaps the presence of a certain Miss Thrussell kept you from giving the game away?” Jules suggested.

Vivien glowered at him and allowed him two more turns of the room before she replied. “She’s what he wants, you know that. A well-behaved wife who will give him the quiet life he longs for.”

“Humbug. He doesn’t want that, never has. He’s just tired of trying to keep his female relations in hand. The sooner he realises he can’t and leaves them to their own devices, the better.”

“He worries for them because he’s a good man and believes it is his duty to protect them.”

Jules’s rather cynical expression softened, and he nodded. “I know that. And he ought to protect them, up to a point. But if there is one thing I have learned from my sisters, it is that they have minds of their own and are quite capable of using them. His sisters are not children but grown women. How they choose to live their lives is their decision. No matter how badly he wants to protect them, if they refuse to be protected, that is their choice. Short of locking them in their rooms and holding them prisoner, what exactly can he do?”

Vivien smiled despite herself as they executed another turn about the room. He was a marvellous dancer. Also, she liked Jules a great deal. He made out he was a spoiled, idle aristocrat, but there was far more to him than that. “I heard your mama’s voice in that little speech, my lord.”

Jules snorted. “I should think you did. Good God, I’ve been fed A Vindication of The Rights of Woman since I was a boy, alongside the dos and don’ts of inheriting a dukedom. Try to reconcile those two worlds if you can.”

Vivien laughed. “You seem to manage very well, Jules. You’ll make a fine husband when you finally grow up.”

“Ouch!” Jules said, his expression one of rueful amusement. “There’s a backhanded compliment.”

“Well, I can’t be too nice to you. It would go to your head, and you are quite smug enough already. Good heavens, how anybody could ever imagine the two of us married is beyond me. We’d murder each other before the week was out.”

“Wouldn’t take that long,” Jules replied with a grin. “I adore you, my dear girl, but we are both far too sarcastic and cynical about the world. We both need someone with a lightness of heart to keep us from becoming jaded and bitter.”

“I am not cynical,” Vivien retorted. “So you may speak for yourself. I am a realist, however, and I do not approve of sticking one's head in the sand. And in my opinion, you had better find yourself that special someone quick smart before you are in reality what you only pretend to be.”

“As ever, your company is as soothing as a trip to have one’s teeth pulled,” Jules replied as the dance ended and he offered her his arm.

“And yours like being at a picnic in the company of a wasp,” she countered, smiling sweetly at him.

Jules burst out laughing and patted her hand. “Good luck with your quarry, my dear. The sooner that fellow gives you a reason to be sweet-natured, the better.”