Page 14 of Sinfully Daring

“Did she, by Jove?” he exclaimed, with such obvious surprise that Lady Rosamund laughed.

“Yes, she did. She was sorry to have missed you last night. They got delayed at another event and you’d left to escort your aunt home by the time she arrived.”

“Well,” Barnaby said, flabbergasted. “Well.”

Rosamund smiled at him and patted his arm. “Perhaps you should call upon her. Take some flowers.”

Barnaby grinned. “Perhaps I shall.”

1st July 1842, Beverwyck, London

Unlike Barnaby, Louis did not believe for one moment that Lady Balderston had left her shawl in the library. She had been trying to get him alone ever since Fort William, to no avail. Not that Louis had helped her in that endeavour, too aware of her sharp mind and penchant for overly personal questions to invite any further intimacy. He liked the lady a good deal and respected her more, but that did not mean he wanted her digging up his past or interfering in his future.

“Well then,” she said, fixing him with a look that boded ill. “What happened at Fort William? Hmmm?”

Louis sat back, knowing he looked entirely at ease even if he did not feel it. He studied the tea in his cup and wished fervently that it was cognac. “’Appened?” he replied, deliberately dropping the h as ladies found his accent charming and, the more charmed she was, the less likely to pursue this topic.

“You heard me. When you finally returned to the dress shop, you looked like a tomcat who’d found a deal more than a cream pot to indulge in.”

“You paint a vivid and not terribly flattering picture, my lady,” Louis murmured, sipping his tea.

Lady Balderston snorted. “Barnaby has finally grown a backbone—your influence, I collect—and refuses to breathe a word about you to anyone. Even me!” she added, as though this was inconceivable. “You found her, didn’t you? Your young lady.”

Louis held her gaze and his tongue while she studied him as though she could pry the information from his brain if she tried hard enough. She wagged a bony, bejewelled finger at him.

“I will discover who the gel is, you mark my words.”

“And what then?” Louis demanded, too aware she could do it.

“Oh, keep your hair on. I won’t interfere,” she said, setting her cup and saucer down.

Louis returned an incredulous expression.

The lady bristled. “Well, I might help if I approve the match,” she added with a sniff.

“And if you do not?”

“Do you think I would not?” she asked him, her voice softer now.

Louis shrugged, struggling to keep his relaxed pose and indifferent mask in place. He couldn't honestly imagine anyone approving of him marrying Evie. Not if they had any sense, or care for her.

“Tell me she’s not some pretty little ninny with nothing in her head but jewels and frivolous nonsense,” she demanded, fierce now.

“Certainly, she is not!” Louis retorted, and then cursed himself for the slip, for he had just dismissed many of the unmarried females on offer amongst the ton and the lady knew it.

She sat back, her smile smug and Louis prayed Barnaby would be back soon.

Chapter 4

Wolf,

I am not married. Not yet. Though I am determined to change this soon. Believe me when I tell you, not all women throw themselves at my feet. Some have more sense. You will not come here, my friend. Not yet. If you had the slightest bit of sense, not at all, but you will insist on kicking the hornet’s nest. Just don’t complain when the wretched things sting you to death. You might be the unofficial king of Paris’ darker world, but your kind of power cannot fight the ton. Society will eat you alive.

Thank you for the champagne, though one wonders how you think we might forget the debt when you remind us of it with such frequency. Nic has more honour in his little finger than the two of us put together, but you know this. You try only to bait me, and I shall not play your games.

Yes, damn you, I know where they went. I also know who it was. Find out what they discovered, and for this I owe you nothing. For if I fall, you do too.

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Wulfric ‘Wolf’ De Vere.