Dare to be Brazen (Daring Daughters Book 2)

by Emma V. Leech

  His voice simmered with anger, his temper rising as it always did when he remembered what Louis had endured.

  “Nic,” Louis said, his voice quiet. “This is not about me. This is about you and Eliza. It does not matter if they expose me, only that you do not suffer for our past.”

  Nic shook his head. “Non, Louis. Nothing has changed. We succeed together or not at all. Besides which, if you fall, any chance at respectability I may have is shattered beyond saving.”

  Bedwin got to his feet and approached them both. He stood before Nic, his green eyes the exact same shade as his daughter’s.

  “So, you are not only a bastard, but a thief, a criminal, and you think you are worthy of marrying my daughter?” the duke said, his expression unreadable.

  “Papa!” Eliza said in fury. “Did you not hear everything you’ve just been told? Do you not understand how remarkable their success is?”

  “Robbing people is not a career for which I can find anything to respect,” the duke said dryly.

  “Oh!” Eliza said, clearly working herself up to a pitch. Her fists were clenched, and she was breathing hard.

  “Eliza!” Nic said, anxious at the rather febrile glint in her eyes. “Do not upset yourself. Come, sit down before you pass out. You know your father’s words are true enough.”

  “Nic, they—”

  “No, Eliza,” Nic said firmly, leading her to a chair and making her sit down. He crouched down before her. “There is no man worthy of marrying you in your father’s eyes, mon amour, you must see that, so you can hardly be surprised he isn’t best pleased by a man with a past like mine.”

  “But that’s because he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know you,” she insisted.

  Nic smiled and took her hand, kissing the knuckles gently.

  “I hope so,” Nic said, glancing up at the duke. “I hope he will still give me the chance to prove myself, to prove to him that I might have got off to a shaky start, but there is no man in the world who will love you like I do, who would die before he hurt you, who would steal the moon from the heavens if it was what you needed to be happy.”

  The duchess gave a happy sigh, and everyone looked around to see her dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Bedwin tutted at her, but his wife just sniffled.

  “Oh, Robert, you must admit it, that was awfully good. So romantic. Might I use that in my novel, Mr Demarteau? It is just the sort of thing a hero ought to say.”

  “Prue, really,” Bedwin said, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. “I’m trying to make a point and you act like all is forgiven already.”

  “Oh, well it is, isn’t it?” Prue said, smiling fondly at her husband. “It is true Mr Demarteau, and his brother are… are a little unconventional….”

  “Unconventional? Ha!” Bedwin said in outrage.

  “But,” the duchess persisted, “as you said yourself, you like them, and I think perhaps you admire them too. They might be just what this family needs to stop them becoming too fusty and dull. Just think how unexciting your life would be if Gabriel weren’t in it.”

  Bedwin looked over at his brother-in-law and scowled.

  “Peaceful, you mean?” he grumbled, but no one believed him by now.

  Nic was saw now that perhaps the duke’s bark was rather worse than his bite.

  Gabriel laughed and slapped the duke on the back. “There, there, Robert. I think your blue blood needs thinning out a bit more. Too much nobility leads to madness and disaster; some good red blood will do your stock the world of good. I mean, look at him! Think what his sons will look like. You’ll never be short of heirs to the dukedom.”

  “Mon Dieu,” Nic muttered as Bedwin glared at Gabriel. He wondered if he’d been too hasty about the duke’s bite.

  “They need to get married first,” Bedwin growled.

  “Oh, Papa!” Eliza said, letting go of Nic’s hand at last and getting up to fling herself at her father.

  “Wait, what?” the duke said in confusion.

  “You said we can get married! Oh, thank you, Papa! You are the best father in the whole world.”

  “Now, wait a moment,” Bedwin began. “I never said anything of the sort. Six months…” Then he saw Eliza’s shining eyes and his wife’s smile of approval. The duke sighed, conceding defeat as he turned to Nic, his expression resigned. “If you even think of letting me down—”

  “I won’t!”

  “He won’t!”

  Nic and Louis spoke in unison and then grinned at each other. Nic turned back to the duke, serious now.

  “Your grace, I love your daughter with all my heart. I promise you, I will do all in my power to be a man worthy of her. I won’t ever let you down, for I would rather die than disappoint Eliza, and I know she adores you and wishes only for your approval.”

  “Hmph,” Bedwin said, apparently unmoved by such pretty words, though Nic thought perhaps there was approval glimmering in those green eyes. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time to see if you can keep your word. I suppose—”

  “Please, Papa?” Eliza said breathlessly, clutching at her father’s arm.

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Prue, how quickly can you arrange a wedding?”

  “Oh, I should think two weeks would be ample,” the duchess said with a placid smile.

  “Well, there you are, then,” the duke said, throwing up his hand. “Happy now, you dreadful girl?”

  “Perfectly, wonderfully happy,” Eliza said, reaching up to kiss her father’s cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”

  Eliza turned back to Nic, but she moved too quickly, and the stress of the morning had perhaps taken its toll, for she gave him a brief, glorious smile, and fainted.

  Chapter 19

  Dear Fred,

  It is so unfair that Aggie has come to live with you until the school is open, when I saw her first. Though it was very nice of your mama to take her in. I think you are quite right, though: Aggie did not understand why it was inappropriate for her to be living with Louis César. It’s hardly surprising she’s vexed about it. I expect she misses him. I am glad to hear he has been visiting her so often or she would be most unhappy, I think.

  Please tell the duchess that Aggie is welcome to come and stay with us whenever she wishes to. I am sure Mama and Papa would not mind, and I should be so pleased to see her.

  I am so excited for Eliza’s wedding. How lucky you are to have two such interesting new brothers.

  P.S. Have you changed your mind about lending me your book? I still haven’t found where Papa hid our copy, and no one will lend me theirs. Please, Fred, don’t be a bore.

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington (youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu) to Lord Frederick Adolphus (younger son of the Duke and Duchess of Bedwin).

  13th April 1839, Beverwyck, London.

  “Mr Demarteau, do please stop pacing,” the duchess complained. “You will ruin my carpet.”

  “Well, what is taking that fool doctor so long?” Nic asked irritably. “The devil ought to have come weeks ago. I told him she was still not well, but did he listen? Bah!”

  Despite having been told, Nic continued to stride up and down. He felt sick. Though it was only a little over three weeks since he had written to the man, and the letter would have taken at least a week to arrive, Nic felt he had waited an eternity for the doctor to get here.

  “Mr Demarteau.”

  All he knew was that Eliza still fainted, still got headaches, and was not nearly as strong as she ought to be. He must do whatever it took to make her well again. Perhaps he’d just keep the doctor here indefinitely, no matter what it cost or what he had to do to persuade the man to stay. Archambeau could just as easily work in England as in France. Nic could provide him with a property to work from, and—

  “Mr Demarteau.”

  —and then he would be on hand whenever Eliza needed him.

  “Nicolas!”

  Nic jumped.
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  “Ah, there we are,” the duchess said with a sigh. “Sit down.”

  She pointed at the chair opposite hers and gave him a stern glance he did not dare disobey.

  Nic sat, folding his large body into the rather fragile looking chair with caution. The duchess poured him a cup of tea, added several large lumps of sugar, stirred it, and handed it over.

  “In lieu of brandy,” she said with a kind smile.

  Nic took it and stared at the amber liquid. He forced himself to take a sip and put it down again, aware his hands were unsteady as the cup rattled against the saucer.

  “I can’t bear it,” he said, his voice taut with anxiety. “If anything happened to her, if she was sick again….”

  A slender, warm hand covered his.

  “It is always frightening to love someone,” the duchess said. “But you must have realised by now, Eliza is far stronger than she looks… than even you give her credit for. I worry too—she is my little girl—but I know the headaches are fewer with each month that passes and, though she still faints, it is only when she has been under stress or if she is overtired. She is getting better, Nicolas. She is, and she will continue to do so with you to take such good care of her.”

  “I will,” Nic said, a lump in his throat. “I would do anything.”

  The duchess smiled and patted his hand. “Yes. I can see now that you would, and it is a great weight off my mind, I can tell you. You and I are going to get along famously, Nicolas. You do not mind if I call you Nicolas?”

  Nic blinked, a little taken aback.

  “N-No,” he stammered, hardly able to refuse a duchess. “Though… I prefer Nic.”

  “Very, well, Nic,” she said with a nod. “On the condition that you call me Prue.”

  “Oh, but I… I couldn’t.”

  “I am a duchess, Nic, and I am used to having my own way,” she said sternly, though her blue eyes twinkled. “And, furthermore, I am to be your mother-in-law. Think yourself lucky I did not insist on Mama!”

  “Yes, Prue,” Nic said hastily.

  Prue beamed at him.

  Nic found himself surprised to discover the following half an hour was a little less tortuous as the duchess kept him busy, discussing plans for his and Eliza’s imminent marriage and where they would live. The duke wanted to give them a house which Nic was not happy about, being quite capable of keeping Eliza in the manner to which she was accustomed by himself. Both he and the duchess looked up at once, however, when the butler entered.

  “Dr Archambeau, your grace.”

  Nic stared at the doctor with his heart in his mouth. The man scowled at him.

  “Your grace,” the doctor said politely before turning back to Nic. “Mr Demarteau, I pray you will listen and listen well to my advice… which is the same, I might add, as was given on my last visit. I can find nothing physically wrong with Lady Elizabeth. She appears to be in good spirits and good health. Though she is rather frailer than I would like, that is only to be expected after such a serious illness. She needs fresh air, regular exercise, and good food, with plenty of meat and cheese and green vegetables. Where possible she should avoid stressful situations, but she does not—and I would like you to listen carefully to this bit for both our sakes—she does not need wrapping up in cotton wool.”

  “But the headaches,” Nic protested, “and the fainting—”

  “Are abating, from what she tells me,” the doctor said with exaggerated patience. “And I fully expect them to have subsided completely in the next six months. If they do not, you may request for me to attend her once again. But not until then, I pray.”

  “That is marvellous news, Doctor,” the duchess said, beaming at him. “May I offer you some tea?”

  “Non, je vous en remercie sincèrement,” the doctor said with a respectful bow. “You are as gracious as always, your grace, but if I hope to catch the passage back home this afternoon, I must be on my way. If there is nothing else?”

  “No indeed.” Prue gave him a warm smile. “Thank you. You have put all our minds at rest wonderfully. Hasn’t he, Nic?”

  She sent Nic a stern look.

  He sighed. “Oui. Merci, Dr Archambeau.”

  The doctor nodded at Nic, bowed again to the duchess, and went out.

  “There, all is well,” Prue said with satisfaction. “Now we only need to arrange this wedding.”

  “You look like a princess, or something in a picture book,” Aggie said, staring at Eliza in wonder.

  Eliza laughed. “Thank you, darling. I must say, you do too. That dress is just lovely.”

  Aggie nodded, staring at herself in the looking glass from over Eliza’s shoulder. Her dark hair was curled and shining, and her cheeks had lost the pinched look of fear and hunger. She smoothed a reverent hand over the pale blue silk that Louis had bought for her to wear to the wedding. “I know. It don’t—doesn’t—seem real. I keep thinking I’ll wake up.”

  Eliza felt her heart squeeze in her chest. The girl was trying so hard and making great strides to learn. The school had opened just last week and though there had been inevitable teething problems, she was thrilled with the staff for the way they had managed. The people they had chosen—teaching staff, cooks, and cleaners—had risen to the challenge with admirable capability and she was immensely proud of them. She had been torn by the idea of leaving so soon after working for so long to set it up, but Nic had put his foot down. Whilst he was happy to support both her and the school, and for them both to be integral to its running, Eliza needed a proper holiday, and he wanted a honeymoon.

  Since Eliza wanted a honeymoon too, it had been a half-hearted protest, though she felt dreadfully guilty at leaving just as things had begun. Aggie was adamant that she go, though, and full of reassurances that she would keep an eye on things. The girl seemed to have the oddest notion that she must help Eliza run the school and look out for her interests, and was determined to do everything she could to get ahead in her lessons.

  “Louis is very proud of you,” she said, seeing the girl perk up at once.

  Eliza had been touched and pleased when Louis had asked if Aggie might be allowed to attend the wedding with him. Indeed, the whole family had become very fond of both her and Louis César.

  “Is he?” she said eagerly. “’E’s… he’s been so kind to me I… I don’t want to let him down after everything he did.”

  “Then you won’t, and so long as you are happy and doing your best, that is all he wants, Aggie. I can promise you that.”

  Aggie smiled and they both looked up as Eliza’s sisters and honorary sibling, Cat, burst into the room.

  “Come on, Eliza,” Tory said, dragging Eliza to her feet. “Poor Mr Demarteau is going to fret himself to death if you don’t come down now.”

  Eliza laughed, turning to look at the clock on her mantel. “But I’m not late, there is still five minutes to go.”

  “He’s asked me twenty times if I’m sure you’re quite well and don’t have a headache,” Cat replied, quirking one pale blonde eyebrow.

  “Oh, the poor dear,” Eliza said with a laugh. “Well, then, it’s not as if I want to wait.”

  “I should think not.” Lottie gave a happy sigh, leaning against the door jamb. “The sooner you are married the sooner the honeymoon can begin.”

  Eliza blushed as Lottie winked at her.

  “What’s a honeymoon?” Aggie asked in confusion as they all filed out the door.

  “Oh, it’s when the bride and groom are together after the wedding,” Cat said with a wistful sigh. “They go somewhere nice for a holiday so they can be alone together, and there’s lots of kissing.”

  “Ugh!” Aggie said, almost physically recoiling at the idea.

  Cat tutted at her and took her hand. “You must read some of my romance novels. You just don’t know what you are missing.”

  The two girls ran off ahead of them and Lottie eyed Eliza with alarm.

  “I try not to think about it.” Eliza grinned at her si
ster. “Though I’m very glad Cat belongs to Montagu. I don’t think Papa can take much more, and he’s still got Rosamund, Victoria, and Octavia to go.”

  “The poor darling,” Lottie said with a sigh, and then the two of them burst out laughing.

  The wedding was a quiet one. It was held at Beverwyck, with only family and close friends in attendance. Of course, many tattlemongers made much of that and whispered that it was because Bedwin was ashamed of his new son-in-law, or that Eliza had to get married, and a dozen other scurrilous stories which made Nic gnash his teeth whilst Eliza sailed serenely above it all, too happy to care a jot.

  The truth was rather less scandalous. They were not having a large wedding because the family feared it would be too stressful for Eliza, and she did not care for so many eyes upon her in any case. She knew her father would soon scotch the rumours of his disapproval and shame by taking Nic about in public, and Montagu and St Clair had already told Nic that if he had passed muster with Bedwin, that was good enough for them. So he was not short of powerful friends. All of those hoping for a scandal could watch Eliza’s figure as closely as they wanted, but there would be no premature baby arriving, so that story would die in time too. Dr Archambeau had given her a clean bill of health, and though it still wasn’t enough to stop Nic fretting, it had reassured Eliza that she would eventually be back to her old self, and that alone seemed to have worked wonders.

  The ceremony was brief, thank heavens. Nic clutched at her hand the entire way through, his palm sweaty, and she felt for once as though she was holding him up as he was quite obviously beside himself with nerves.

  As soon as the words ‘You may kiss the bride’ were spoken, however, everything changed. He let out a breath of relief, grinned at her, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly.