Dare to be Wicked (Daring Daughters Book 1)

by Emma V Leech

  “How perfect,” Matilda said happily. “And so we begin.”

  And, with that enigmatic comment, she left Lottie alone.

  “How do, Cass.”

  Cassius turned at the hand on his shoulder to see his Uncle Jerry grinning at him.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said, shaking his uncle’s hand. “Is Aunt Bonnie here?”

  “Oh, yes. Causing havoc among your guests, no doubt, or trying to encourage our girls into it. I see your mama is as organised as ever.”

  Cassius looked over to where his mother was ticking the final items off a list as long as her arm with calm precision while the staff leapt to obey her. His father was lounging in a chair, idly turning a glass of wine in his hands and watching her with a rapt expression. Cassius smiled.

  “Wellington could not better her.”

  “There,” his mother said, putting down her list with a satisfied smile and pushing her spectacles back up her nose. “I do believe everything is in order, and I deserve a glass of champagne.”

  “Harriet, you are quite terrifyingly efficient,” Jerry said, but dutifully poured her out a glass.

  “I am, aren’t I?” she said, accepting the glass with a smile and taking a sip. “Oh, that’s better. Now, Jasper, Cassius, we had better go down. The guests will be arriving soon.”

  Though many of their closest friends had arrived earlier in the day and would stay over, many more would come from the surrounding area to attend an event considered one of the high points of the summer. The Countess of St Clair was considered something of an oddity, and no one seemed to have the slightest clue how she’d captured the heart of the most eligible man in the ton all those years ago, but her summer balls had become legendary. Some even said she did a better job of it than her predecessor, the late Dowager Countess St Clair, which was the highest praise any of them could give.

  Cassius usually enjoyed the ball very much. It was a chance to catch up with his friends and family, to laugh, and to flirt and dance with a lot of pretty girls. Tonight it would be a test of endurance, for he did not dare spend too much time with Lottie, for fear of what he might reveal. Staying away from her had been damned near torture this past week, and Cassius had decided enough was enough. They must tell Eliza as soon as possible. Keeping secrets would only make matters worse in the long run and he must learn by his mistakes. Tomorrow afternoon would likely be the earliest opportunity and they must take it. He intended to snatch time enough with Lottie tonight to gain her acceptance of the idea. She would not like it, he knew, but she hated deceiving her sister more, and he felt it would be a relief to her to get it all out in the open. Surely Eliza could not stay angry with Lottie for long? He knew her well enough to be certain of that. Or, at least, he had. She was acting so strangely of late.

  “I didn’t know you at all, did I?”

  That had hurt more than she could know. For she did know him, better than anyone except Lottie. Though perhaps he ought to tell her the same, for he did not recognise the girl she had become in the days since he had admitted he didn’t wish to marry her. She was preoccupied and short-tempered, just as Jules had said. Was that all his fault?

  He had no time to consider as it was time to greet their guests.

  Cassius was so distracted most of them passed in a blur of polite nothings, but some stood out.

  Cat’s oldest sister, Phoebe, and her husband, Maximillian Carmichael, The Earl of Ellisborough, were among those he was only too pleased to welcome.

  “Your father is in the ballroom,” he told Phoebe. “He’s been worse than little Cat for demanding what time it is, he’s so impatient to see you.”

  Phoebe laughed with delight and tugged at her husband’s arm. “Oh, do come along, Max. I can’t wait to see them all.”

  Cassius watched in amusement as she bore her husband off in search of Montagu and her mama. Minerva and Inigo de Beauvoir arrived next, with their adopted son, Hartley, who was some years older than Cassius.

  “Cass,” Hart said with a grim smile, looking very much as if he was being escorted up the scaffold to have his neck stretched. Balls were really not his idea of fun. His father wasn’t enamoured of them either.

  “Mother has a laid a selection of titles that may interest you in the library,” Cassius whispered to Hart’s father, Inigo. The man brightened perceptibly at this prospect until his wife scolded him.

  “Don’t you dare disappear yet. You promised me two dances at the absolute minimum,” she said, tapping his arm playfully with her fan.

  “Oh, how you torment me, wife. How shall I endure the tedium?”

  From the glittering look in his eyes, Cassius felt certain the man would manage with no problem at all.

  Cassius laughed and was about to greet Baron and Lady Rothborn and their son, Larkin, when something made him turn. His breath snagged in his throat as he saw Lottie come down the stairs, and all the rest of their guests faded into a dull, murmuring blur of sound and movement behind him.

  Oh, God.

  Oh God, how could he endure another second of hiding his feelings? Yet he wasn’t hiding them, not in this moment. He could not. His breath was short and his mouth was dry, his heart thudding erratically in his chest. Intelligent thought of any variety held up a white flag and surrendered to feelings. There were too many of them—love and lust and pride and guilt—playing havoc with his equilibrium, sending jolts of desire lancing through him with the burn of a thousand lightning strikes, melting what little remained of his brain to a thick syrup, like sugar poured into hot water.

  She was dressed in pink. Her gown and bodice, which exposed her shoulders and a teasing glimpse of décolletage, was a lush pink satin. The waist was tight, revealing her curves, and the open robe revealed a madly flounced lace petticoat that fluttered enticingly as she moved. She looked edible: the prettiest confection that ever was, just waiting for him to unwrap her.

  Cassius swallowed.

  She must have correctly identified the look in his eyes for colour rose in her cheeks.

  “Good evening, Cassius,” she said, and then lowered her voice. “Don’t look at me so.”

  “Can’t help it,” he rasped. “You look…. You’re…. That dress….”

  She glanced down at herself and smoothed a pink silk glove over the ruffles with a sigh of pleasure that didn’t help him a whit. “It is lovely, isn’t it?”

  “It’s wicked,” he said helplessly. “You’ve done it to torment me.”

  She looked up at him, a quizzical expression in her eyes.

  “I would never….” she protested and then laughed as she realised he was teasing.

  “How shall I bear it, watching you dance with all those other fellows whilst I must stay away?”

  Her bright expression dimmed, and he cursed himself for diminishing her enjoyment of the evening.

  “It’s all right,” he said quickly. “I shall bear it. I want you to have fun.”

  “We can’t keep on like this. I can’t. I must tell her,” she said, her lovely face determined though there was fear in her eyes.

  Cassius experienced a flood of relief as he realised he’d not have to persuade her into it. “I know. Me either. Tomorrow. We’ll do it together, though, love. Not you alone.”

  She let out a breath and nodded.

  “Run along, then,” he told her, though it ate at him to send her away. “Go and have fun.”

  “Will you dance with me?” she asked, pleading in her eyes. “It will look odd if you don’t dance with me once, at least.”

  Cassius nodded. “Yes. Save me the last waltz.”

  She flashed him a brilliant smile that made him feel dazed and light-headed and was gone with a flurry of beckoning pink lace and ribbons.

  Lottie waved up at the balcony where her younger siblings and Cat were gathered, leaning over and watching the fine ladies in their lovely gowns and the men in dramatic black-and-white eveningwear as they danced. She turned to smile at Cat’s oldest sister, Phoebe,
as she joined her, waving at the viewers above. Phoebe had children of her own now, not much younger than Cat, who had come as something of a surprise to her parents.

  “Heaven help us when she comes of age,” Phoebe said with amusement dancing in her blue eyes. “I believe Papa is more alarmed by the prospect than he was about my come out and that’s no small thing. She’s got some dreadfully dangerous ideas about love and romance and redeeming wicked men. It quite terrifies me to consider it.”

  Lottie laughed, though she suspected Phoebe’s concerns were valid enough. Everyone knew Cat had a thirst for romantic novels and would hunt them down, no matter how her parents scolded her. Their own story was legend, though, immortalised by Lottie’s mother in her romantic novel, The Eagle and The Lamb. The book had caused a sensation and was never out of print. Was it any wonder the girl had ideas?

  “How’s Eliza?” Phoebe asked, the concern in her eyes making guilt settle in Lottie’s stomach like a cold lump of lead.

  “Oh, she’s fine. Looking astonishingly lovely, of course,” Lottie said lightly and hating herself for it.

  Phoebe gave her a searching look that made her feel rather ill.

  “She’s recovered from what happened with Cass, then?”

  Lottie swallowed.

  “I don’t know,” she said miserably. “To be honest, we’ve not spoken of it much, but… but she’s not herself at the moment.”

  “No. I didn’t think so. I greeted her earlier and she’s quite lost her sparkle,” Phoebe said thoughtfully and then her expression changed to one of undisguised delight as she spied Louis César with Eliza on his arm, moving towards them.

  “Louis César!” she exclaimed as the man laughed with equal pleasure.

  “Comtesse Ellisborough. My word, but it seems like yesterday. You have not changed at all.”

  “Oh, what a plumper,” Phoebe said, laughing as she gave him an unashamedly frank look up and down. “You have certainly matured in ten years, but then you were a beautiful young man, so I ought not be surprised. My, my, my.”

  Louis César chuckled. “Have a care for my life, madam. I have no wish for your husband to call me out.”

  “Is she flirting again?” demanded a deep voice from behind Lottie.

  She turned to see Phoebe’s husband, Max, join them. He took a firm hold of his wife’s hand.

  “You are incorrigible, you dreadful creature. Put the poor man down and come and dance with your boring old husband.”

  Phoebe gave a snort of mirth but allowed herself to be dragged—though far from unwillingly—onto the dance floor.

  “Perhaps we might join them?” the comte asked Eliza who inclined her head and gave him a smile which Lottie did not think showed in her eyes.

  “I should be delighted,” she said.

  Lottie watched with a troubled heart as they joined the others on the dance floor.

  Chapter 14

  Dear diary,

  Balls are marvellous. I cannot wait to grow up and wear beautiful gowns and have fun with my friends—oh and fall in love, of course! There are so many people here, all our friends and family and lots I don’t know too. My brothers, Philip and Thomas have come and are certainly the handsomest men here tonight, except for Papa of course, and I suppose, Louis César. I may be a little prejudiced in Pip and Tom’s favour though for they are the best brothers in the world.

  ― Excerpt of an entry to the diary of Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington, youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.

  14th July 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.

  Eliza glanced behind her, relieved to discover she had evaded Louis César. She must be out of her mind. He was gorgeous, witty, charming, and there was a dangerous edge to him that he mostly hid, but she had caught the odd glimpse of it. Far from being off-putting, it only added to his appeal. Yet she could not keep her thoughts from a man far more dangerous, one who did not bother to hide what he was. Why she was so struck with a fellow who seemed to hate her, she could not fathom. Was it injured pride, perhaps? Did she expect every man she met to admire her? Perhaps discovering one who did not was like a stone in her shoe, a constant irritation. Eliza considered this idea, trying to be honest with herself. No. No, she was not so very conceited as that. It was just so unexpected. She had been polite and welcoming, and the look in his eyes when he’d first seen her….

  Oh, she was a great ninny. There was no other word for it.

  “Good evening, Eliza.”

  She jolted, discovering herself startled to be addressed directly by Cassius. It was so ridiculous a situation, especially after he had been her friend for all her life, that her throat grew tight.

  “Cassius,” she said, her tone a little cooler than she’d intended. She forced a smile to make up for it.

  “You look lovely tonight.”

  She smiled for real then, though she wanted to cry. Usually he insulted her, in the way very good friends did, teasing words that made her laugh, that made the serious business of being the perfect lady a little more bearable.

  “Not like an over-decorated bride cake, then?” she said sadly.

  Something lit in his eyes. Was that hope?

  “Well, I didn’t like to say.”

  His voice was grave, his expression serious and, despite everything, Eliza laughed. Oh, what a relief it was to shake off a little of her turmoil and laugh with a friend—her best friend.

  “And blue, Eliza? Really? There are other colours in the world.”

  “Ah, but I have no imagination, as you are well aware.”

  It had always been what he’d teased her for. Lottie was the one with the imagination. Lottie, who made up wild stories and thought of ridiculous escapades that Eliza never really understood. Who wanted to get all wet and muddy and then scolded for the pleasure, when you could just as well have a perfectly nice time and keep clean without getting into trouble at all? Except now she wished she had got into more trouble. Perhaps if she had, this odd, unexpected sensation of being caught in a trap of her own making would not plague her so.

  Cassius stared at her and suddenly the atmosphere between them was awkward again. She wished he would go away. It was too upsetting to be with him, this man who had been her friend but was now a man she felt was keeping secrets from her.

  “Eliza,” he said, a pleading note to her voice. “What you said—”

  “Ah, and here you are, Cassius, and the beautiful Lady Elizabeth too! My cup runneth over.”

  Eliza groaned inwardly as some relation of Cassius’s appeared. The man was a distant cousin of his father’s if Eliza remembered rightly, but her attention drifted, their conversation washing over her as she sought an opportunity to get away.

  Cassius wanted to thump his father’s cousin in frustration, a reaction he knew his father would sympathise with, as the fellow was a prosy old bore. As good manners not only would not allow that, but forced him to endure the man’s droning with a smile on his face, he just seethed with impatience. He could see Eliza awaiting the first opportunity to make her escape. At any moment she’d be off like a whippet after a rabbit. For a moment there, it had been like old times and he wanted that back. If he’d fallen in love with anyone but Lottie, he knew he could have handled this whole affair much better. No doubt by now Eliza would have been offering him advice on how to manage this ridiculous situation, except if she’d known there would have been no situation to manage.

  Argh.

  It occurred to him then how odd it was to see that Eliza was clearly bored with the situation and wanted to get away. Until these past few weeks, she would have listened attentively to the awful fellow with every appearance of interest. Even if she had been desperate to get away from his father’s dreadful cousin and a boastful story about how much money he’d spent on some magnificent horse and what a terrific horseman he was, no one would have been able to tell. Lottie would have fidgeted and done her best to be courteous before concocting an urgent excuse to be elsewhere. Eliza w
ould have endured. Until now.

  He saw her draw in a deep breath, preparing to interrupt the man’s endless stream of babble and make her escape, when her eyes grew wide. All the colour drained from her face and then returned in a hectic rush of pink that rose over her chest and neck and sat high on her cheeks.

  Cassius followed her gaze to see Louis César approaching them, with his brother Nic.

  “Would you excuse us?” he said, grasping the opportunity to leave the tedious conversation. “I see a guest I have not yet greeted, and I must not forget my manners. Come along, Eliza.”

  He tugged at her arm, looking down at her in surprise when she did not leap at the opportunity to escape with him. She was rooted to the spot and, when he placed her hand on his arm, he felt certain she trembled.

  “Eliza? Are you well?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice faint, and then she drew in a deep breath and put up her chin. “Yes, of course I am.”

  Cassius frowned at her, but she gave him an impatient glare and they walked to meet Louis and Nic.

  “Nice of you to join us, old man,” Cassius said, shaking Nic’s hand. “Was it something we said?”

  Nic’s dark eyes were hooded, revealing nothing but he shrugged. “I ’ad business to attend to.”

  Slowly, his gaze drifted from Cassius to Eliza. “I owe you an apology, Lady Elizabeth, for leaving so abruptly. I ’ope you will forgive me?”

  “Indeed, you owe me nothing,” Eliza said, her voice cool and tart. “You must apologise to Lord and Lady St Clair for your disappearing act. I am merely a guest here. Your comings and goings are of no matter to me, I assure you. If you would excuse me, gentlemen, Mr Demarteau.”

  Cassius gaped in undisguised astonishment at the slight, staring at Eliza’s haughty profile as she stalked away. He turned back to see Nic watching her go, something glinting in his eyes Cassius was not certain he liked. Louis César gave a bark of laughter.

  “Mon Dieu, Nic, you have certainly made an impression there, and not for the first time.”