Page 75 of Just a Little Daring

“You didn’t?”

Dare nodded, looking sheepish. “I did, though I shall kill you if you breathe a word to another living soul, and you’d best not tell Laurie. He’s shaken enough as it is, poor bastard.”

“Word of honour,” August muttered, frowning.

“It wasn’t the blood or the screaming, if that’s what you’re thinking. Though it looked like a damned butcher’s shop, and my ears were ringing for days.”

August swallowed, wishing fervently he’d never begun this conversation. “Oh?”

Dare nodded, gazing down at his daughter with misty eyes. “She was just so beautiful, and Elspeth had to work so hard to bring her into the world and… and I was just overwhelmed.” He looked up at August and grinned. “Also, I’d not eaten or slept for twenty-four hours, which likely didn’t help.”

August laughed, shaking his head, and left Dare to talk nonsense to his beautiful little girl. He made his way back to Vivien, who was smiling, her head together with Anna and Gwen as they plotted something dreadful, no doubt. Gwen gave a little shriek and fell back, laughing fit to burst her stays… assuming she was wearing them for once. Ash only just snatched an uneaten slice of cake out of the way before she planted her head in it. He caught August’s eye and shook his head before accepting Charlie’s timely invitation to play billiards. Timely, for Gwen was gazing up at Ash in a most uncivilised manner. August sighed and wondered what to do about her. Ash sauntered off with Charlie, though it was an invitation he might live to regret, for Charlie was a demon with a cue. August almost warned him not to play for money, but decided against it. Ash was a big boy and would figure it out.

He turned and stared back at Rother House, turning gold in the late afternoon sun. Vivien got to her feet and slid her arm through his.

“Do you think Arabella and Bainbridge are all right?” she asked.

“Weeping and hysterical, I expect,” August said thoughtfully.

“Ah, well, Arabella will watch after him.”

August snorted and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Mrs Lane-Fox.”

“I love you too, Mr Lane-Fox,” she said, leaning into him.

“You never think you’d have been better off marrying a duke or a marquess?”

She gave him a look of disgust that made his heart lift.

“Not ever. Not even for a second. I love our life. Your dreadful sisters are wonderful, and your barmy friends are my friends, too. It’s quite marvellously perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, leaning down for a kiss.

“No, I’m not,” she whispered back. “Not even nearly, but I’m perfect for you.”

And August knew she was perfectly correct.