by Emma V Leech
A thousand words crowded on his tongue: protests, demands that she stay, love words and promises he had no right to speak. In the end, though, he said none of them. He’d botched everything and he’d not botch this. If he had to wait to declare his intentions, then so be it. He must wait. So he simply nodded and watched her go, watched her until she was out of sight, the soft white fabric of her wrap fading into the darkness like some lovely, ghostly dream.
At least no one doubted she was ill, Lottie thought with a wry smile. She’d found her bed in the hour before dawn and fallen into an exhausted sleep, not waking until gone midday. When she finally opened her eyes, it was to discover her temper fraying and a dull headache that pulsed at her temples. It was all well and good for her and Cassius to speak of and dream about a beautiful future, but this morning reality seemed far too big an ordeal to overcome. Despondency settled over her, dampening her spirits like a sodden wool blanket. She felt lethargic under the weight of it and cross with the world at large, and it was too easy to pretend she had come down with some mysterious malady. After breaking her fast in her room and discovering that heartache did not affect her appetite, she made her way down the stairs.
The afternoon was a little cooler than previous days, with soft cotton wool clouds scudding about the sky and, at intervals, hiding the sun from view. As she did not much like her own company at present, she judged it best she not inflict it on anyone else, and headed for the library. Though it was a lovely room, it would usually be empty on a summer’s afternoon, when the countess had arranged entertainments for her guests. There was archery set up today and there had been murmurs of taking boats out on the lake, but Lottie had not bothered herself to discover what they had decided upon. Instead, she drifted into the library, intending to sit herself down and gaze out of the window. She was thinking about last night and the fact she had completed her dare already, not that she could tell anyone. Oh, good heavens no, but… but she had been wicked. There was no doubt of that.
To her chagrin, and with the unpleasant jolt of a guilty conscience, Lottie discovered Eliza had beaten her to it. Her sister was curled up in a comfy chair with a book in her lap and her gaze fixed on the sky outside. Lottie hesitated and had almost decided to bolt before Eliza looked up and saw her.
“Do stop dithering in the doorway and sit down. I won’t bite.”
Shame rose inside Lottie as she realised Eliza probably wished for her company, for a confidante to discuss Cassius and his rejection of her. Lottie had not offered that, as she would have done in any other circumstance.
“Are you well, Eliza?” she asked tentatively.
Her sister turned her expressive green eyes upon Lottie, one dark eyebrow lifting. “No, I am considering throwing myself in the lake and having done with it.”
At Lottie’s gasp of shock, Eliza snorted and rolled her eyes, something so out of character that Lottie could only gape.
“Oh, sit down, Lottie. You’re making the place look untidy,” Eliza said, shaking her head.
She made an impatient gesture towards the chair beside her and so Lottie took it, regarding her cautiously. It was unlike Eliza to make sarcastic comments and cynical remarks, and this new version of her sibling was unsettling.
“Did you have a nice time last night?” she ventured, too cowardly to tackle this unknown creature head on.
Eliza shrugged. “I suppose so. Louis César was most amusing, very attentive. Everyone thinks he will propose to me.”
“So soon? Will you accept?” Lottie asked.
Eliza plucked irritably at a loose thread on the overstuffed chair she was curled into.
“I don’t know. Do you think I should?” She turned her gaze upon Lottie, a frown tugging her dark brows together.
“You don’t love him,” Lottie said, startled to discover Eliza would even consider such a thing.
“No.”
“Well, then.”
“Well, then,” Eliza said absently, turning away and watching the clouds as they drifted past, her finger tracing the embossed pattern on the leather cover of the book she wasn’t reading. She was quiet for a long moment. “Do you think he’ll join us again, or have I frightened him away?”
Lottie blinked at the sudden change of subject but then grasped at the opportunity to mend fences. “You haven’t frightened him. He just feels horribly guilty for having upset you so. He never meant to you know. He would rather die than hurt you, that’s why he couldn’t bear to tell you. I know he misses you. You’re his best friend, Eliza and now he can’t face you because he feels so wretched. We both know it isn’t in Cassius to be cruel or unkind.”
She let out a breath, relieved to have been able to say something to defend him.
Eliza turned a puzzled expression in her direction.
“Cassius?” she murmured and then her expression cleared. “Oh. Yes, Cassius.”
A slight blush of colour tinged her cheeks and she set her book aside, getting to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Lottie asked, baffled by her sister’s odd behaviour.
“Going? Oh, umm… for a walk, I suppose,” Eliza said with a vague wave of her hand as she left Lottie alone.
Lottie stared after her, utterly perplexed. She was not alone for long. Why on earth was the library so popular this afternoon?
“Ah, here is sleeping beauty,” Ash said, walking into the room and throwing himself casually down in the chair beside her.
Somehow, he still looked exquisitely elegant, sprawled with his long legs stretched out before him and his arms flopped out on either side, even with the addition of his outrageous waistcoat. It was lilac silk today, with ivy leaves twining across his chest embroidered in gold thread. His sister followed behind and tsked at his abandoned pose, before turning her gaze upon Lottie with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Look at him. He thinks he’s as glamorous as a Maharajah, as impressive as a magnificent Indian prince. I’m afraid no one is going to recline on silken pillows and peel you a grape, Ashton dear, no matter how you long for it.”
“I long for no such thing,” he said, indignation in his blue eyes. “I only wish to be adored unconditionally. Is that too much to ask for?”
“Yes,” Lottie and Vivien said in unison.
“But I am adorable,” Ash replied, looking mystified by their response.
“Yes, my dear,” Vivien replied, her tone soothing and more than a touch condescending, as if she were placating a difficult child. “On occasion that might be true, but the only kind of girl who would adore you unconditionally would also bore you silly. You need someone aggravating, someone to shake you up a bit and make you exert yourself.”
“That doesn’t sound the least bit comfortable,” Ash replied, folding his arms.
“No,” Vivien said with a smug smile. “It doesn’t, does it?”
“Why do want me to be miserable?” he demanded of her, sitting up straighter now.
Vivien laughed at the look on his face. “Oh, you silly creature. I don’t. I want you to be happy, and you never will be if it’s too easy. You are too like me, too like Mama, truth be told. We bore easily.”
Ash snorted, and then as if by mutual accord—though nothing was said—they turned their attention to Lottie.
“Well, then?” they asked.
She had noticed before now that they often seemed to know what one another was thinking without saying a word. “You do know it is creepy when you do that,” she groused, glaring at them.
They laughed and Lottie huffed. “Very amusing, I’m sure.”
“Answer the question,” Ash said impatiently.
“Was that a question?” Lottie demanded, wondering if she’d missed something.
“Oh, come, come,” Vivien said, giving a dramatic sigh. “Cassius did not come with us last night and at the last moment you cried off with a megrim, which I’ve never known you to have in your life before. You’re always disgustingly healthy and full of the joys.”
&n
bsp; Ash nodded his agreement. “Which means you had an ulterior motive.”
Lottie flushed. Really, it was quite unfair that she felt so wretchedly guilty, for she had not stayed behind to snatch at an opportunity to see Cassius. She felt ashamed enough without plotting to see him behind her sister’s back. Nevertheless, she had seen him, had kissed him, had stripped bare and allowed him to gaze upon her as no man had ever done before. Worse than that, she had desperately wanted him to do a great deal more than gaze. She still did. Lottie was restless and fretful and agitated, and she felt very much as if she might burst into flames. He’d barely touched her, but the look in his eyes had been eloquent enough, and now the aching need for him was so distracting she didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or cry. No… she knew. She wanted to run down to the summerhouse and demand that he put her out of her misery. Now. At once!
“Oh, my. It’s worse than I thought,” Ashton murmured, a knowing look in his eyes that made her feel hot all over.
“It isn’t.” She put up her chin, glaring back at him. “I did not stay behind to see him!”
“Keep your voice down,” Vivien hissed, gesturing to the open door.
Lottie groaned and put her head in her hands. “Oh, I’m horrible. I’m a horrible person and I don’t deserve to be happy.”
“Well, I know you’re horrible, obviously,” replied a matter-of-fact voice that could only belong to a sibling.
Lottie sat up straighter as her brother strolled in. She’d not seen much of Jules, who had been very vague about his whereabouts since they arrived and could never be found. She suspected the barmaid at The King’s Head. Whispering among the staff led her to believe she was a pretty girl and ‘vastly accommodating.’ This was usually said with a wink and a tone of amusement that led Lottie to draw her own conclusions.
“Oh, go away, Jules,” she said crossly.
“Why should I?” he demanded. “You’ve just admitted you are a horrible person, which I’ve been telling you for years, but I’m fascinated to know why you’ve suddenly realised I’m correct.”
Lottie glowered at him. At nineteen he had all the swagger and self-confidence a handsome, wealthy, and titled young man might feel permitted to own. He was tall and had looks as dark and arresting as his father, but had not yet grown into his shoulders. He was all long limbs and athletic grace, and it made her furious how her friends twittered about him like a lot of silly birds, when he was an utter blockhead. They had always been at odds, though, perhaps too similar and too close in age to be friends.
“Perhaps now isn’t the best time,” Ash began, as he was a sensible human being and was aware of the rising tension in the room.
“Now is the perfect time if my sister is going to unburden herself of her sins,” Jules said with a grin.
Ridiculously and much to her dismay, Lottie felt her eyes burn. Why? Why, when Jules was just being Jules, the vexing, impossible younger brother she regularly wanted to hit with a heavy blunt object? Yet he struck too close to the truth. She did wish to unburden herself of her sins, for she truly loved her sister, and Eliza was hurt and she… and she had….
Lottie burst into tears and ran from the room.
Chapter 12
Dear Diary,
The summer ball cannot come soon enough. We need more guests. Perhaps if the house is filled with our friends and their families this odd atmosphere will disappear. I want so much to do something, but Papa scolded me and said if I interfered he would be very disappointed in me, and everyone knows having Papa disappointed in you is the worst feeling in the world. It’s far worse than him being cross, which he almost never is.
―Excerpt of an entry to the diary of Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington, youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.
8th July 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.
It took Jules less than twenty minutes to track her down. Lottie muttered a curse. She ought to have known. He had always been far better at hide and seek than any of them as a child. He had that kind of mind.
Jules stared up at the hayloft and her legs dangling over the edge and put his hands on his hips.
“Shall I come up, or will you be a sensible creature and come down?”
“I’m not coming down,” she said, folding her arms.
Jules sighed and gave the mirror shine on his boots a regretful glance before climbing up and crawling through the hay to sit beside her. He unfolded his long body until he too was sitting with his legs swinging over the edge. They sat in silence for a long time, with Lottie staring at nothing and Jules casting her anxious glances. In other circumstances it might have been amusing, for he obviously regretted upsetting her. For all he was her obnoxious brother, he really wasn’t a bad person, just an annoying one.
He leaned over and bumped her shoulder.
Lottie glowered at him and said nothing before turning away.
He did it again.
And again.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed. “Is this your idea of an apology?”
“Of course it is,” he retorted. “You don’t expect me to actually say the words, do you?”
She stared at him in disbelief and he groaned.
“Oh, very well,” he said, folding his arms. “I’m sorry I upset you, Lottie, but honestly, I don’t understand how I did. I always talk to you like that, and you’ve never started blubbering before. You usually hit me.”
She snorted at that. It was true.
“It’s all right,” she said, not looking at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it?” Jules brightened at once. “Marvellous! Well, then….”
He caught her expression and clamped his mouth shut.
“Oh, just go,” she said, her shoulders slumping.
Jules fidgeted for a moment before leaning in and putting an awkward arm about her shoulder. “Is there something wrong, sis?”
To her horror, Lottie felt her lip tremble. She nodded.
Jules looked vaguely horrified but drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Oh, Lord. Well, I suppose I must do something about it then. I am your brother, after all.”
“Younger brother,” she sniffed. “Doesn’t count.”
“Of course it does!” he retorted. “Brothers look out for their sisters, no matter if they are older or younger. It’s one of those unwritten rule thingies. They… well, they just do. So, tell me who I need hit. I assume there’s a fellow somewhere at the heart of it?”
“Somewhere,” she agreed.
“Oh!” he said, obviously not having expected that answer. “Oh. Well. Right, then. Tell me who the blackguard is, and I’ll pound him.”
“Can’t.”
Rather to her surprise, she gave the matter some thought, though. Well, not the pounding bit—Cassius had done nothing wrong—but perhaps telling her brother about her unhappiness and this dreadful situation. That she would ever consider confiding in Jules rather than Eliza was just laughable, until she considered why she couldn’t confide in Eliza.
There went the urge to laugh.
“Is this why you didn’t come last night?” Jules asked, once more reminding her he wasn’t quite so dim as she liked to make out.
She nodded. There was a short silence.
“You spoke to him, didn’t you? Last night.”
Lottie turned her head in surprise and, as Jules’s green eyes met hers, she discovered she couldn’t hide her blush.
“Bloody hell, Lottie!” he exclaimed in obvious shock. “You did? How the devil—”
Lottie held her breath, realising too late that her brother wasn’t the least bit dim and it would only take him a short while to figure things out.
“The bastard!” he exclaimed, scrambling up and heading for the ladder.
“Jules! Jules, no… no! You don’t understand….”
“I understand plenty,” he muttered, leaping from halfway down the ladder to the floor.
Lottie was still struggli
ng to wrestle with her heavy skirts and a ridiculous number of petticoats. Getting up the blasted ladder had been nigh on impossible and very unladylike, getting down was looking even more awkward.
“Cassius has broken Eliza’s heart and now he’s dallying with you, and I’m going to damn well kill him.”
Lottie watched in horror as Jules stalked from the barn. She yelled after him, telling him he’d got it wrong, that he was a pigheaded idiot, and a dozen other insults… all of which had no effect whatsoever.
Oh, good heavens. What on earth had she done?
Cassius fixed his eyes on the blank canvas before him and tried not to allow his gaze to travel to the corner of the room. Stacked behind canvases and tied in a leather carrying portfolio were the drawings of Lottie. He wished there were somewhere safer for him to put them, but he could not take them to the house where curious maids might peek at his work. None of the staff were allowed in here to clean, and none of his friends or family would poke about without permission. His fingers itched with the desire to get them out, to use them to create a painting of the woman he was now certain would be his muse until the day he died.
She did things to him. Odd, marvellous things that he could not account for. Her laughter made his heart trip about and her smile lit him up with happiness. Now that he reflected on the life he’d lived before he’d gone away, he remembered dozens of occasions when she had made him laugh so hard he could hardly breathe, when she had persuaded him and Eliza to let her join them and then talked them into some silly escapade that had ended with one or all of them getting scolded and having not a single regret about it. Being with her was like being swept up in a wave and tumbled about. It left one giddy and disorientated, and damned glad about it.
Why, then, had he been so certain Eliza was the one he ought to marry? Because he’d been happy, happier than he’d realised in their company. Eliza was wonderful, her company soothing, and she was his friend. Everyone knew Eliza would be the perfect wife. She had received dozens of offers already, none of which she’d even considered for a moment… because of him. She was flawless, the kind of girl titled men would give their right arm to marry, and she’d been his for the taking. He’d just assumed their friendship would grow into love. They’d both been too young to understand the kind of magnetic attraction possible between two people, the kind they did not have.