by Emma V Leech
The butler guided them out onto a sunny terrace and Nic was struck at once by how quintessentially English and charming it was. A far cry from the life they had lived in France.
These past years, Louis had been forced to distance himself from the world they had created at Rogue et Noir—the most exclusive and infamous club in Paris—but Nic had lived it to the full. A life filled with wickedness and vice, and a world apart from this picture of the perfect English summer day, from the pretty china tea set, and the table laid with mouth-watering cakes and biscuits, to the crystal bowls filled with sweet peas and roses and… and… her.
A young woman sat at the table, a cup and saucer in hand. Her head was tilted towards Cassius, the ghost of a smile hovering at her lips. Her posture was upright, her expression serene, the perfect English rose. Nic’s heart gave a most uncharacteristic thud in his chest. Longing rose inside him like a tide and no matter how he forced it down, it swelled inside him, pushing at his ribs. Non, Non. Dieu a pitié, s'il ne vous plaît pas cela. Oh no. Oh, no, no. For God’s sake. It was utterly ridiculous....
Cassius stood to greet them, and introductions were made around Nic, greetings and exchanges of names. He moved through it in a daze, waiting for the moment he discovered her name, though he knew it already, knew with some sick sense of inevitability that the universe was laughing at his expense.
“And these lovely creatures you must know already, for I have told you so much about them.”
“Lady Elizabeth,” Nic said, hearing his voice as if someone else had spoken, unable to tear his gaze from the embodiment of his wildest dreams. Her name escaped him before he could stop it and before he could hide the unguarded look he felt sure must be in his eyes.
“Yes!” Cassius said, grinning. “You see, Eliza? Your fame travels before you.”
The young woman blushed and raised her gaze to Nic, revealing thickly lashed eyes the colour of absinthe and likely as dangerous.
“I am most pleased to meet you, sir,” she said.
Oh, mon Dieu.
Chapter 3
Dear diary,
It is so lovely to be back at Holbrook. All the Adolphus family are here. I do like Fred very much, for we are about the same age and he never treats me like he thinks me a silly girl, and little Harry is so funny. He adores me—naturally—and it is wonderful to be among friends. I do hope Lady Helena and Gabriel come too, though papa says there is some urgent problem with the laying of their railway line, and they may need to postpone their visit. I hope not, for I was looking forward to seeing Florence, Evie and Felix, and—I suppose—Emmeline too, for she is my best friend. Even if she is an insufferable know-it-all.
Today we met some friends of Cassius. A Mr Demarteau and his brother, who is a Count. The Comte de Villen. Isn’t it a marvellous name? Like a wicked seducer in a Gothic novel. He looks wicked too. No man that handsome can be entirely good. I do hope not anyway, for I want there to be some excitement over the holidays. There must be a romance, perhaps a scandal too. Nothing truly horrid, only the exciting kind where everything works out in the end. Mama says I must not read Mrs Radcliffe again until I am older, for I am precocious and will turn out to be a dreadful creature and go to the devil if she does not keep me in hand. I think she is teasing me.
Everyone believes Cassius will ask Eliza to marry him, but I don’t think Eliza wants to. At least, if she does, she ought not to have blushed so when she was introduced to Mr Demarteau. Lottie though, my word, if she doesn’t have a care and stop gazing at Cassius like he’s the last cream cake in the entire world, everyone will know she’s in love with him. Everyone but him, likely, for my sister Phoebe says men are remarkably slow to notice such things.
I cannot wait to grow up and fall in love. I hope that it will be romantic and exciting and something we can tell our children like the duchess wrote Mama and Papa’s story in The Eagle and the Lamb. They think I have not read it but I have. It is all very well reading about it in books, though, but to live it… Well, I am certainly too young, even I know that, so I must content myself with watching everyone else. I shall tell you everything too, of course. Fear not.
Oh, what a summer it will be!
―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.
Lottie made her way down to the breakfast parlour, relieved to discover she was among the first to rise. Usually Eliza beat her to it, but her sister had been in a strange mood last night, oddly distracted. At dinner, Lottie had found she’d had to repeat the same question three times before she could gain a sensible answer, which was most unlike Eliza. Apparently she’d had a headache. If Eliza admitted she had a headache, that likely meant she had the most appalling megrim, for the woman would never utter a word that would cause anyone else any trouble or discomfort. She was far too good. It was a little sickening sometimes.
“Oh, Cassius!” Lottie exclaimed with delight, immediately cursing herself for making such a fuss about finding him alone at the breakfast table. Of course he’d be here. He lived here, did he not?
For a moment he stilled, giving her a look she could not decipher. Most likely he was wishing her to the devil, for she would spoil his quiet breakfast. He’d looked to be deep in thought as she’d come in, after all, and now she was so giddy with nerves she would not be able to stop herself from babbling. Mama always said she had tongue enough for two sets of teeth when she was anxious. Besides, Cassius must preferred Eliza’s quiet calm to Lottie’s chaos if they were to marry. Eliza had always spent the time they were all together trying to evade her sister. It had been most unfair, too, for she’d only wanted to their company. Well, his company.
He stood as she entered, smiling politely. “Good morning, Lottie. This is an unexpected pleasure. What are you doing up so early?”
“Oh, well, the sun came streaming through the window this morning and I simply could not stay in bed when it was such a beautiful day. There is so much I want to do, and I cannot decide what to do first. Which of course means I shall drift about doing nothing at all and driving everyone quite mad while I demand to know what they are doing, and can I join in?” Lottie snapped her mouth shut, aware she had done precisely as she feared, and let her wretched tongue run away with her. She shot Cassius a nervous glance to see if he looked annoyed, but there was an arrested expression on his face she could not read. Probably he was stunned at quite how irritating she could be in such a short space of time.
She flashed him a grateful smile as he pulled out the chair beside him and made a promise to herself to keep her blasted mouth shut. He settled back to his breakfast and, once he was occupied, Lottie glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Good Lord, it was so unfair that a man be as beautiful as that. It hurt to look at him. What chance did a girl have when a fellow went about looking like that? It should be made law that he carry a warning sign about his neck advising impressionable young ladies to keep their distance.
Why had her mother not kept them apart? She was usually such a sensible woman. Had she failed to notice her friend’s son had become a temptation beyond bearing? Beauty like that was dangerous. It had to be.
Her gaze drifted back to him. The sun that streamed into the bright room glinted on his blond hair and highlighted a strong, square jaw. He had a little cleft in his chin, and those beautiful eyes were thickly lashed and—oh, those magnificent shoulders.
She sighed.
Well, he could hardly be surprised if one fell in love with him, could he? Would he be surprised, she wondered? Would he care? Or would he laugh and think her a silly little chit? The idea made her cheeks heat. No doubt she appeared naïve and gauche compared to all the girls he’d met on his travels. She knew he’d spent time in Paris, after all, and she could only imagine how the sophisticated French women had reacted to his masculine beauty. No doubt they’d have climbed over eac
h other to get to him. She pushed the thought away as jealousy stirred.
“It is a lovely day,” Cassius said, breaking into her thoughts. “And I expect Mother has made plans to entertain you all, so you need not fear being bored. She is quite adept at telling you what it is you wish to do. Strangely, she is usually correct, too.”
“I like your mama,” Lottie said, making a valiant effort to stop swooning and sighing and eat something. It wasn’t easy. Determinedly, she reached for a fresh bread roll and concentrated on the conversation. “She’s always been very kind and welcoming to us, though she’s awfully intimidating. I’m sure she thinks me an utter ninny.”
Cassius laughed, a deep rich sound that so delighted her she dropped the roll and it bounced off her plate and onto the floor. “Oh, drat!”
A footman leapt forward and swept the roll up before offering Lottie another. Oh, elegantly done, Lottie dear. She cringed, not daring to meet Cassius’s eye. No wonder he wanted to marry Eliza. She would never do something so horribly embarrassing as juggle her breakfast. Still, at least her perfect sister had not been here to see it. Small mercies.
“She really doesn’t.”
Lottie looked up, a little perplexed.
“My mother doesn’t think you a ninny.”
“Well, a good job she was not here this morning, or she’d likely change her mind,” Lottie said with a bright smile, though her stomach was tight. What was she playing at? She ought to have run in the other direction the moment she found Cassius here alone. As if she hadn’t made a spectacle enough of herself yesterday when she’s seen him for the first time. Not that she’d meant to. Lottie had meant to show him how she’d grown into an elegant young lady like her sister, well-mannered and sophisticated, but her heart had other ideas. The moment she’d seen him she’d wanted to burst with joy, and it had all escaped her, bubbling up in an embarrassing show of adoration that Cassius had clearly found excruciatingly embarrassing. She’d put him so far out of countenance he’d been dumbstruck, and he had barely met her eye ever since. No doubt that was why Eliza had been so distant and out of sorts last night, too. Why would she not be when her own sister made such a fool of herself over the man she intended to marry? The idea made Lottie’s stomach twist.
“Lottie?”
She blinked, realising too late she’d been staring miserably at her plate without saying a word.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She turned to Cassius, finding her heart swell at the concern in his eyes, at the soft tone of his voice. His eyes were the oddest shade. Turquoise, like his father’s. They were so beautiful it made her ache inside, and his voice… She sighed again, knowing she was ridiculous, but his voice was deep and rumbled deliciously. It made her shiver, helpless with longing. Was she going mad? It seemed like a kind of madness, to want him with such ferocity. She had loved Cassius before he’d left with a childish passion for his sense of adventure, his irrepressible laughter, and his kindness. Now though that love had a new element, a passionate desire to touch him, to feel his hands upon her that made her all on edge, as if she really was losing her mind. The temptation to get up and throw herself into his lap, to wrap her arms about him and demand he kiss her was so tantalising she feared she might do it. She wondered what he would do if she did, what he would say if she confessed all, if she told him she loved him, hopelessly and desperately, and that she feared something in her would wither and die if she must watch him marry Eliza. She must go away once they were wed. Perhaps she would go to France, but no, she would be bound to visit all the places he had been and wonder what he had thought of it, and if he had painted it, and if the sunlight had been the exact same shade of gold and… and good God, she was revolting.
“Lottie?”
“Nothing!” she said, sending him a blinding smile of such force she was surprised her jaw didn’t crack. “I’m just not used to being up so bright and early. It’s a shock to the system.”
Cassius gave a slightly nervous laugh and Lottie tried to swallow her misery and mortification by stuffing her mouth full of bread and butter. She could not taste it. Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. The bread promptly got stuck and she was compelled to take a large gulp of tea to force it down.
“Good morning.”
Lottie looked up to see her sister enter the room. Oh, just what she needed.
Eliza was perfect as usual and made Lottie feel too fussy in her bright blue gown with white ribbons and lace. Today, Eliza wore an understated morning dress of fawn silk with bishop sleeves that narrowed at her slender wrists. It was simply cut and exquisite, quite different from Lottie’s frills and lace and bows, but she adored pretty things and could never resist a ruffle. Now, Lottie felt childish, whilst Eliza looked as effortlessly beautiful as always, though Lottie well knew it would have taken her an age to achieve the tumble of thick dark curls that framed her lovely face. She experienced a stab of unwelcome jealousy and the bite of bread roll felt like a lump of lead, cold and heavy. She pushed her plate away, the rest of the roll uneaten.
“Are you sure you are quite well?”
Cassius’s voice was low and filled with concern. Lottie turned to find him watching her and hated herself for stealing his attention when he ought to be fussing over Eliza.
“Yes, of course. Just not terribly hungry,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips. Misery rose inside her, smothering her until she wanted to sink into the floor.
Eliza had barely sat down when the rest of the family tumbled in, with all the attendant noise and chaos that the Adolphus brood generally brought with them. Mama rounded up Harry, who was filling his plate with plum cake, and had a word with Fred before he could stuff down every last sausage, and the room filled with merry chatter, for which Lottie was vastly grateful. As everyone found their places a shadow cast over the room and she looked up to see the towering figure of Mr Demarteau filling the doorway. He was large indeed, and did not look like a nobleman, but then she remembered being told that Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau was the beautiful Comte’s illegitimate half-brother. The two men seemed very close, with Demarteau hovering about his younger brother like a guardian protector. Certainly his expression was daunting, and those black eyes… Lottie shivered, and then followed his fierce gaze to discover it had settled on Eliza. There was a place still beside her, but Demarteau looked at it, frowned, and turned away, choosing to sit instead on the far side of the table next to their little brother Harry. Lottie glanced back to see if Eliza had noticed and saw a dull red flush on her sister’s cheeks. A surge of anger burst inside her to see Eliza so mortified. No man would ever choose to sit next to a child instead of beside a beautiful woman unless he meant to slight her. How dare the man act so, and why? Eliza was exquisite and her manners were perfection, so she could not possibly have offended him.
“Lottie. Lottie, whatever is wrong? Are you quite certain you are well?”
Lottie turned again to discover Cassius staring at her in alarm, his gaze settling on her hand which seemed to have clamped itself around the butter knife so hard her knuckles were white. She dropped it with a clatter, which made Eliza wince.
“Sorry, no, I… I seem to have something of a headache. Do excuse me, I think I shall take a walk,” she said in a rush, and hurried from the room before she could do or say anything to make herself even more ridiculous.
“Wait!”
Lottie paused just outside the door to see Eliza had followed her.
“May I come too? I’m afraid my headache is no better this morning either. I expect the excitement of the coronation and travelling yesterday has caught up with us both.”
“Of course, and yes, I’m certain that’s it,” Lottie agreed, hardly in a position to tell her sister the truth.
“You do look peaky,” Eliza said with a frown of concern, laying the back of her hand to Lottie’s forehead. “You’re not coming down with something?”
Lottie’s heart ached at the worry in Eliza’s voice. If
only her sister wasn’t such a good person, perhaps then she would not feel like such a wicked creature for loving the man Eliza wished to marry and wanting him for herself. But Eliza was good, and so Lottie must be wicked, for she did love him, and want him, and whatever was she to do? She felt she would run mad before very much longer and they were to be here for three whole weeks. The season was yet in full swing and Lottie had suggested she remain in London, staying with her Aunt Helena and Uncle Gabe, as business was keeping her uncle in town, but Mama had been adamant. They had endured endless parties and social events since April and she thought Lottie looked worn to a thread. Little did her mama know it was nothing to do with dancing till all hours and going to bed closer to dawn than dusk, but the sleepless nights spent thinking of Cassius and everything she was about to lose. Not that you could lose something that was never yours to begin with.
They both gave a sigh of relief once they were out of doors. It was warm already and promised to be a glorious day.
Lottie glanced at her sister, noting the tense line between her eyebrows. Eliza looked back at her. “You saw, didn’t you?”
Lottie nodded. “Whyever did he do it?”
Eliza let out a breath. “Oh, thank heavens. You mean to say you don’t know either? I was terrified I’d made some obvious faux pas and offended him without even realising it.”
