Page 50 of Just a Little Daring

Needing the distraction, Louis tucked her arm in his and they carried on into the maze. They walked in silence for a while until he felt her gaze upon him.

“I suppose you’ve kissed a great many women,” she said. “So you have had a vast amount of practise.”

In that moment, Louis wished that were not true, but she already knew it was, and he was not about to tell her lies. More lies. For he was keeping the secrets of his heart from her, was he not? “I suppose so,” he said, feeling every bit the wicked satyr leading an innocent nymph astray.

“Well, it was certainly very different from Mr Cooper, much… nicer.”

“Nicer?” Louis quirked an indignant eyebrow at her.

“You’re fishing again,” she observed, with perfect accuracy.

Louis laughed. “I can hide nothing from you, my sweet girl.”

“Well, it was nice. Very nice. Thank you.”

“Nice,” Louis repeated in disgust, shaking his head. “I wish to banish this word from the English language.”

Evie giggled. “Oh, very well. It was lovely, truly lovely, thank you. You are very kind to be so patient with me when I know you must think me gauche and silly. I am so pleased you are my friend, Louis.”

Louis sighed, knowing it was likely the best he could hope for in the circumstances. “You are neither gauche nor silly, and I am glad to be your friend too, Evie.”

For now.

Chapter 16

Mr Cootes,

I must insist that you do not write to me again. It is most inappropriate.

I can assure you my sleep was entirely undisturbed, and I shed no tears on your behalf—not a single one—so you may rest easy on that point. To conclude, I have romantic aspirations towards you upon the receipt of that healing unguent can only be evidence of a weak intellect or a wilful disregard for the truth.

I have some skill as a healer and as the fight was in an honourable cause, I felt it my duty to offer you such aid as I could. I am pleased if it eased your discomfort. The smell is unfortunate, I agree, but suits you admirably.

I hope that this concludes our dealings with one another.

―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Aisling Baxter (Daughter of the Right Hon’ble Luke and Kitty Baxter, the Earl and Countess of Trevick) to The Hon’ble Mr Sylvester Cootes.

15th April 1841, The London to Brighton Road.

“The smell is unfortunate, but suits you admirably. Ha! She is in love with me,” Sylvester pronounced, stretching out his long legs and propping his boots on the seat opposite as the carriage bounced over a rut.

“Where exactly does it say that?” August asked in amusement, regarding the sharply worded missive from Lady Aisling.

“Oh, it’s not obvious. A lady is never obvious,” Sy said with a grin, snatching the letter back and tucking it in his breast pocket. “But it’s there. You notice, for such a shy little creature, she never hesitates to give me a splendid set down.”

“I had noticed,” August admitted, for it was true. Aisling tended to seek the background, to linger with the wallflowers and watch proceedings from afar. She rarely spoke in company with people she did not know, and even among friends could sometimes be reticent, but Sylvester seemed to provoke her so much she was positively outspoken.

“And what of your intentions towards her?” August demanded. For Aisling was Vivien’s friend, and whilst Sy was an excellent fellow who would not cause a lady hurt on purpose, he had a reputation that suggested women fell for his charms all too often.

Sy shrugged, which did nothing to reassure him. “I don’t know. Nothing untoward. Perhaps only to prove to the lady that she does not fool me. She shows the world this timid creature who doesn’t dare open her mouth and who blushes at the drop of a hat, but I know better.”

“How do you know better?” August asked, frowning now. “What do you mean?”

Sylvester shook his head. “I will not tell you that, but I’ll make her give me the truth. You see if I don’t.”

“Sy, if you upset her, or cause her a moment’s distress—”

“Steady on, old man,” Sy said, regarding August with mild alarm. “I said I mean her no harm. No one will know but me and I’ll take it to the grave, but I want to know why she pretends to be one thing when she is quite another. It makes no sense to me.”