by Emma V Leech
As he spoke, his gaze slid to his brother who was walking a little ahead of them with Eliza. Eliza had her hand on the comte’s arm and was looking up at him and laughing at something he said. They made a perfectly dazzling couple. Mr Demarteau’s gaze lingered on them for a moment as his eyes darkened with some strong emotion, and his jaw grew tight. Lottie felt her heart skip. Oh, goodness. The man truly had taken her sister in dislike, but she could not imagine how sweet Eliza could have offended him, and in such a short space of time. Unless Cat really was onto something and she reminded him of someone who had broken his heart.
She pondered this for a moment before asking, “Do you hope to find yourself an English wife while you are here, Mr Demarteau?”
His head snapped around so fast, and the look in his eyes was so outraged, that Lottie was quite taken aback.
“I do not,” he said, or perhaps growled better described the way he uttered the words.
Lottie swallowed and then felt a surge of anger towards the man. How dare he glower at her sister so? Was he so deluded he thought Eliza not good enough to marry his brother? Louis César de Montluc might well be a comte, but Eliza was the eldest daughter of a duke.
“They make a splendid pair, don’t they?” she said, studying his face for a reaction. “I am so lucky to have a sister like Eliza. Everyone loves her, you know. She is the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful woman in the world. She will make the perfect wife for some lucky man, for she never says the wrong thing and is always concerned with everyone else’s comfort above her own. She quite puts me to shame, as I am not nearly so accomplished either. She sews beautifully and speaks French and Italian, her piano playing is quite the best I’ve ever heard, and she has the sweetest singing voice. Oh, and she adores children, and they her, naturally. I know she wishes for a family as large as our own. Of course she could have anyone she chose. She had so many offers of marriage this last season I’ve quite lost track. Did you know both a duke and a marquess offered for her? But Mama told her she need not rush to make any decisions yet.”
Lottie frowned. Instead of easing whatever ridiculous concerns the man might harbour about her sister’s worth, her words only seemed to make matters worse. The arm beneath her hand had become rigid with tension.
“Mr Demarteau—” Lottie began, deciding the only way to deal with this was to face it head on.
“If you would excuse me, Lady Charlotte,” he said, before she could say another word. He gave her a stiff bow and strode off into the village alone.
“Well!” she exclaimed, starring after him in stunned shock.
Never in her life had she met with such rude behaviour, not even when she’d deserved it.
“Lottie, whatever did you say to the man?”
Lottie turned back to see her mama walking arm-in-arm with Harriet and Matilda.
“Nothing, Mama, I swear it. I was only telling him how wonderful Eliza was and he strode off in a fury.”
“How odd,” Matilda said, watching the man’s figure disappear into the village. “Do you have any idea why?”
“No.” Lottie bit her lip, wondering if she ought to confess her suspicions. “I… I know it seems ridiculous, but I think he dislikes Eliza, or at least that he believes she is not good enough for his brother.”
This elicited a predictable burst of exclamations from all three women.
“Whatever makes you think so?” her mother demanded.
Lottie shrugged. “Only that he glowers at her so, and whenever she comes into a room, he walks out of it. It is as though he cannot bear to be around her.”
“Is that so?” Matilda murmured with interest.
“Well,” her mother said with a sniff. “He may not like her, but his brother seems to have every intention of paying court.”
Lottie looked back at her in surprise. “Goodness. Did he say so?”
She frowned, wanting to ask why her mother was allowing it when everyone knew Eliza was to marry Cassius. The wicked little voice in her head that she disliked so much murmured though, reminding her that it did not matter why, only that if Eliza married someone else, Cassius would be free.
“He did not say he wished to court her, not in so many words. Not yet, at least, but his intention was clear enough. He has gone out of his way to make himself agreeable to both myself and your papa, and a man like that does nothing without good reason. I know Phoebe liked both him and Mr Demarteau very much when she was in Paris with Max, and formed a very good opinion of them both. She is an excellent judge of character, too, or I should never have allowed the comte within a mile of Eliza.”
“According to Cassius, Mr Demarteau is very protective of his brother,” Harriet said, her tone thoughtful. “The comte’s title is an old and distinguished one, but the family lost everything during the war. As I understand it, the comte had a difficult childhood and I believe the two brothers have gained something of a reputation with the rapacious manner in which they have turned their fortunes around, and of course, with the ownership of that scandalous club of theirs. A match with a woman of exceptional breeding like Eliza would be just what the comte needs to find acceptance in society again.”
“If that is so, why does Mr Demarteau look at her with such ferocity?” Lottie demanded.
“Why indeed?” Matilda asked, a curious glint in her eyes.
Lottie huffed and stalked off towards the shops.
“I will find out eventually,” she promised.
After perusing the shops and purchasing some new gloves for her mother, Lottie ambled back outside to the village green. It was a lovely setting, with ducks dabbling about around a small pond. The church bells chimed the hour and the low murmur of chatter drifted from the open door of The King’s Head. As the morning wore on, the day grew hotter, and Lottie found a shady spot beneath a large chestnut tree to sit and wait for the others to appear. She’d not seen Eliza and the comte at all, but she knew Mama would keep an eye on them so did not fret over it. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree trunk, wondering what on earth she was to do. The future seemed to be a bleak place, filled with jealousy and resentment towards her sister, which was totally undeserved. After all, it was not Eliza’s fault that she’d been born first, that she had been the one to be such a friend to Cassius, so much so that they would marry because of it. Lottie gave a dejected sigh.
“Lord, is it so bad, lovely Lottie?”
Her eyes flew open and she gasped at the elegant young man standing before her.
“Ashton!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet and flinging her arms about his neck.
Ashton laughed, protesting as she knocked his hat to the ground in her exuberance. “Leave off, Lottie. Good God, but you’re a hoyden. You’ll have the entire village gabbing about us if you don’t have a care, and I’ve barely been here a minute.”
Lottie let him go and stepped back again as he bent to retrieve his hat, brushing the dust off it.
“Sorry, Ash,” she said, still beaming at him. “Oh, it is so good to see you, but where is Vivien?” Ashton was rarely seen without his twin sister, the two of them nigh on inseparable.
“Taking a nap,” he said with a snort. “She had me up talking until all hours last night with some bee in her bonnet but, unlike me, she has no stamina.”
“Are your parents here?”
“No. They may come later but they were promised to attend some party or other. Dull affair, I think. Duty rather than pleasure. Mama was not pleased.”
Lottie smiled. Ash’s parents, Aashini and Silas Anson—Lord and Lady Cavendish—were rather scandalous and great fun, and Lottie always enjoyed seeing them. Ash and his sister were dear friends, though, so she could hardly be disappointed.
“So, what were you sighing about so dramatically?” Ash asked her.
He regarded her with interest and Lottie returned his scrutiny. She wondered why she had not fallen madly in love with him instead. He was handsome: tall and lithe, with golden skin that spoke o
f his mother’s Indian heritage, and hair as black as a raven’s wing. His eyes were his father’s, a dark indigo that seemed to Lottie to see directly into her brain, for he was one of the most perceptive people she’d ever known. Some among the ton might refuse to accept his mother, but no one could deny that Aashini was still one of the most beautiful women in the country, except for perhaps her daughter, Vivien. Though Aashini’s father had been an earl, she’d been born out of wedlock to an Indian mother, and there had been quite a scandal when she’d married Viscount Cavendish. Ash and his twin sister had decided at a young age that they may as well enjoy their notoriety, and were generally up to their necks in one scrape or another.
“Well?” Ash pressed, clearly unwilling to let it go. “Why is the sunniest person I know sitting in the shade like some wilting flower, and sighing as if her heart is broken?”
“Perhaps it is,” Lottie said, meaning it only as a teasing comment and looking quickly away from Ash as she realised there had been too much feeling behind the words.
“Lottie?” Ash caught her hand, forcing her to turn and look at him.
Lottie swallowed, suddenly desperate to unburden herself to someone. A glance over his shoulder showed Eliza and the rest of their little entourage walking towards them.
“Not here,” she said, taking his arm.
They hurried away, walking back towards Holbrook at quite a pace until Lottie glanced back and assured herself everyone was out of sight.
“What kind of trouble have you fallen into, minx?” Ash asked her, though with such a gentle tone she knew she would find no judgement from him.
“Oh, Ash, the worst kind,” she lamented, shaking her head. “I’m such a fool, but I promise you I didn’t do it on purpose. Is it even possible to fall in love on purpose?”
“I’ve no idea, but who is it you’ve fallen for, and why do you look so wretched about it? Do I need to draw someone’s cork? For I shall, if he’s hurt you.”
Lottie gave a mirthless laugh and shook her head. “No, no. Nothing like that. The only person behaving badly is me, I’m afraid. He doesn’t love me. I don’t even think he knows I exist… well, unless I’m causing havoc and making things explode in his face.”
She sighed again and then caught sight of Ash’s face, noting the fact he was struggling manfully not to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” she exclaimed, huffing at him.
“No,” he said, his voice strained, his lips twitching. “Only that’s why we love you. Making things explode and causing havoc is what you do best, Lottie dear.”
“I know!” she wailed, throwing her hands in the air. “But this time I shan’t just be making a nuisance of myself I would be ruining everything. I… I… Oh, Ash, I’m in love with Cassius.”
Ash stopped in his tracks, gaped at her for a long moment and then let out a breath. He reached for her hand, placed it carefully on his arm, and they walked on again.
“Who else knows?” he asked.
“No one,” Lottie said in a small voice. She glanced up at him, wondering if he hated her now. “Do you despise me?”
Ash stared at her. “Why the…. Of course not, you ridiculous creature. I’m just wondering how on earth I never saw it before. If I had, I should have helped you.”
“Helped me?” It was Lottie’s turn to stop dead now and Ash huffed, glancing back to see the others were drawing nearer.
“Come along,” he urged. “And yes, why would I not help you? Cassius is one of my closest friends, and you know I adore Eliza, but—”
“But?” Lottie said, knowing she was a bad person to hope what the next words out of his mouth would be.
“But I don’t think they’re suited. Eliza is too quiet for him. Everyone knows Cassius longs to travel and poor Eliza would hate that.”
“Oh, Ash!” She flung herself at him again and Ash made an exasperated sound.
“Good Lord, woman. Must you manhandle me so? You’ll ruin my cravat.”
“What the devil is going on?”
Lottie jolted with alarm and they both turned to see Cassius had walked around the corner whilst they were occupied. He stood, glaring at them. Lottie gave a squeak of alarm and went to move away but to her shock, Ash held onto her, his hands at her waist.
“Well met, Cassius, old man. Lottie here was just telling me how pleased she was to see me.”
Lottie glanced at Ash to see a wicked look glinting in his blue eyes. She pushed at his chest and he let her go this time, though he did not look away from Cassius.
“Was she?” Cassius asked, his tone neutral. “Well, perhaps less exuberance in public, Charlotte. You know how gossip spreads around the village.”
Charlotte? She gaped at him in shock. No one ever called her Charlotte. Certainly not Cassius, and what the devil was he looking so prim about?
“I thought you were painting?” she said, aware she sounded defensive now.
Cassius shrugged. “I heard Ash had arrived and was in the village. I thought I’d come and meet him.”
“My, I am popular today. You must be careful, the pair of you, such attention will go to my head.”
“I’m fairly certain there’s no more room,” Cassius grumbled.
“Well, can I help it if I’m beloved by all?” Ash held out his hands as if to draw their attention to his general magnificence.
“You are looking splendid,” Lottie said, as she was very much in charity with him, and because it was nothing but the truth. “That waistcoat is very—”
“Vulgar,” Cassius observed, his blond eyebrows drawing together in consternation as he regarded the admittedly eye catching bright yellow waistcoat with black embroidery. “Really, Ash, whatever were you thinking?”
“Only that if I was to get the least bit of attention from Lottie here, I had better wear something that made her notice me.”
Ash winked at her and Lottie could only gape at him in astonishment. Was he flirting? With her? What was going on?
Cassius clearly had no idea either as he gave Ash another frowning look of displeasure, and they made the rest of the walk home in silence.
Chapter 6
Dear diary,
I think it is time to reveal my ace—as my sister Phoebe would say.
I cannot wait!
―Excerpt of an entry to the diary of Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington, youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.
30th June 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.
“I’m stuffed,” Rosamund complained, flopping down in a chair in Eliza’s room, as Victoria arranged the draughts board on a low table, carefully putting each counter in place.
“You sound like a Christmas goose,” Lottie observed, at which Torie gave a cackle of laughter.
“Young ladies are never stuffed, Ozzie,” Eliza reproved her, though there was a thread of amusement in her words.
“No, but geese are, and Rosamund is a silly goose,” Torie snickered.
Ozzie huffed at her younger sister, who responded in character by sticking out her tongue.
“Why are you all in my room, anyway?” Eliza demanded. “Isn’t it time you were in bed?”
“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Why must you always be so good and follow the rules?” Ozzie demanded of her big sister. “Besides, Cat told us to be here, remember? She has a surprise for us.”
Eliza pursed her lips but said nothing.
“Well, why didn’t she show us downstairs?” Lottie asked, smothering a yawn.
It was far from late, but she had not slept well, and she’d been up early too. Not to mention how tiring it was attempting not to feel jealous of her sister, and then feeling guilty for failing miserably. She was tying herself in knots pretending to be happy, pretending to be pleased for Eliza, for how popular she was, how lovely she was, how bloody, damned perfect.
Oh, she was a horrible person.
“Because it’s only for girls.”
They all looked at Victoria, who glanced up f
rom the draughts board. “Well, that’s what she said.”
Lottie sighed and watched as Eliza took the dozens of pins from her hair, the thick, dark coils unwinding to form a shimmering mahogany curtain across her back.
“How was the comte?” Lottie asked her, hardly daring to hope that the man might have captured her sister’s affections.
“Entertaining and devilishly charming,” Eliza said, meeting Lottie’s eye via the looking glass. “I can only imagine what a reputation he must have back in France.”
“Oh, a terrible one,” Ozzie said, her eyes wide with delight. “I overheard the servants talking this morning when they were clearing the table, and they said—”
“Ozzie,” Eliza said, shaking her head. “You know how Mama feels about listening to gossip, and eavesdropping too.”
Lottie felt an immediate rush of shame for having done the exact same thing earlier that morning. To compensate, she decided to save Ozzie from their sister’s gentle scolding.
“Well, she did listen, so we may as well know what they say now.”
Eliza sighed but held her tongue, turning back to the mirror.
Ozzie grinned. “Only that he’s had a great many mistresses, and that two women duelled over him.”
“No!” Eliza and Lottie said in unison as Eliza swung back around on the stool.
“Oh, I thought you didn’t want to hear the gossip, Eliza dear,” Ozzie said, batting her eyelids at her big sister and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“Wretch,” Eliza muttered. “Tell me everything.”
“Well, there’s not much more to tell. I only heard a bit of it, but apparently two married ladies fell wildly in love with him, but he chose one over the other. The one he spurned went quite mad and challenged his lady to a duel, which was accepted. According to the gossip, he discovered what was going on and put a stop to it before anyone was hurt, for the spurned lover was a crack shot.”
“Oh, what nonsense,” Eliza said, laughing. “It sounds like one of Mama’s stories.”
“You don’t believe it?” Lottie asked in surprise.