Dare to be Brazen (Daring Daughters Book 2)

by Emma V. Leech

  She kicked at his shins, but Louis was too quick for her.

  Louis sighed and, with a deft movement and clever fingers, retrieved the gold fob watch she’d pocketed and hidden inside the thin lining of her coat.

  “Your technique is lamentable,” he scolded her, dangling the watch before her eyes. “Really. I could be blind, deaf, and dead drunk and still have noticed you lift my watch. Do you not practise your skills?”

  The girl gaped at him, wide-eyed.

  “Eh?”

  “You need to be much quicker and far more subtle. Crashing into me like a runaway horse is crude and more than likely to see you taken up before a magistrate.”

  She blinked, large blue eyes with thick black lashes peering out from a dirty, elfin face.

  “Eh?” she said again.

  Louis tsked and tucked his watch away.

  “What you gonna do with me, mister?” she asked, still tugging at her wrist, and now he saw fear in her eyes, which made him feel like the very devil.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  She shrugged sulkily. “Just let me go. I won’t do it again, mister.”

  Louis snorted. “There are some very fine meat pies for sale on that stall there. Do you want one?”

  Her eyes grew wider still and then narrowed with suspicion. “What’ve I got to do for it?”

  “Well, at least you’ve got wits,” Louis said, giving her a sad smile. “Nothing, child. I shall consider it my good deed for the day. Come along, and if you are very good, I might show you where you are going wrong.”

  “Going wrong?” she echoed. “Here, you ain’t one of them preachy coves, trying to convert me and make me repent my sins?”

  Louis gave a bark of laughter. “Mon Dieu, the very idea. Indeed not. I have no intention of preaching at you.”

  “You a frog?”

  “I am French,” Louis replied with narrowed eyes. “Is that a problem?”

  “Nah, just wondered. What you selling then, if it ain’t God?”

  Louis tried to take a guess at her age. She could be anywhere between nine and fourteen, judging by the scrawny limbs under the layers of grime. Those startling blue eyes, though, they tugged at something inside him that reminded him of himself, and where he’d come from. So he slid a coin from his pocket and held it up. The girl gasped in astonishment as the coin disappeared before her eyes, flickering in and out of his fingers only to vanish again, and then reappear a moment later as Louis pretended to take it from her ear.

  “Ooooh, you can do magic?”

  “It’s not magic, just sleight of hand, and that is what you must learn if you’re to go about your business without getting caught.”

  “Can you teach me?” she asked, keen interest flickering in her eyes alongside her natural distrust of him. She was clever and sly this girl.

  Louis watched her, uncertain what the feeling kicking about in his chest was. A sense of kinship maybe, of looking into the past and seeing a shadow of himself.

  “Perhaps,” he said hesitantly. “Come along, though. Let’s get you something to eat first.”

  Louis turned and then looked back when the girl didn’t follow.

  “You… You ain’t gonna try no funny business?” she asked warily. “I’ll scream blue murder before I let you touch me.”

  “You are right to be afraid, child,” Louis said, that odd sensation in his chest growing stronger. “There are many that would steal you away for nefarious purposes, but on this occasion, you are quite safe. My word on it, for what that’s worth, but we will stay in the Garden, in plain sight of everyone. You’ve no need to feel anxious.”

  The girl watched him a moment longer.

  “All right, then,” she said, and followed him through the market to get her meat pie.

  It was mid-afternoon before Louis dared to show his face again. Nic glanced up from his seat beside the fire as Louis came in and stood just inside the door, hesitating, as well he might. Nic studied him. His usually fastidious brother looked rumpled and tired, unshaven, and somewhat disreputable.

  “Where the devil have you been?” Nic asked him.

  Louis shrugged, apparently unconcerned, but Nic was not fooled. Louis wore the mask he always wore when he was hiding what he felt.

  “Avoiding getting my head removed from my shoulders,” he replied, tugging off his gloves and throwing them into his hat, which he set aside. “At least I hoped I might. From your tone, I suspect my hopes have been dashed.”

  Nic grunted. “I ought to break your neck.”

  “Perhaps,” Louis agreed.

  “Perhaps?” Nic repeated incredulously. “You practically invited Eliza into my bed, damn you. She’s a lady, an innocent. Can you imagine the scandal if anyone got hold of that story?”

  “But they didn’t,” Louis replied. “And you’re in love with her. Now you can marry her as you wished to.”

  “No, Louis, all you’ve done is prolong the inevitable. Eliza will likely come to her senses in a few weeks. She’ll see that I will never fit into her world, and then she’ll have to find a way to say goodbye to me. You’ve just made everything difficult, and more painful that it needed to be.”

  Louis let out a breath and shook his head. “You’re a fool, Nic. That woman loves you and she’s not about to let you go. If I’d not acted, she’d probably have run away to France in pursuit of you.”

  Nic had to laugh at that. “Ah, I see. You were saving her from a worse fate by ruining her at home. How terribly altruistic of you, brother.”

  “I am discovering I have a fondness for charity,” Louis returned with a cool smile. “I’m all heart.”

  “Damn you, Louis. Why couldn’t you let it alone?”

  Louis didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to the tray and inspected the pot of coffee Nic had been drinking, before pouring himself out a cup.

  “You’re a blasted romantic. You know that, don’t you?” Nic said, shaking his head.

  Louis returned a look of such outrage that Nic snorted with laughter.

  “It’s true. You think that because we love each other, the stars will align or some such nonsense and everything will turn out for the best, which is nothing but a fantasy. Do you not think that’s what our mothers thought about our father? He was wealthy and handsome and promised them both love and security.”

  “You are a hundred times the man our father was,” Louis said, so angry he nearly smashed the cup he held, he set it down so hard. “Don’t you even think of comparing yourself to that… that worthless prick.”

  “My, your English is coming on in leaps and bounds, Louis,” Nic said wryly, though he could not help but feel a surge of warmth towards his brother despite his anger with him. He knew Louis looked up to him, fool that he was. Idolised him even, though heaven alone knew why.

  “I will not ask delicate questions, Nic, but if you were too drunk to be careful last night, would you abandon Eliza if she were with child? Or, if the worst happened and she died, would you give your son into the care of a stranger rather than look after him yourself?”

  Nic felt a surge of anger at the questions, though it was not for Louis.

  “You have to ask me?” he demanded, his voice betraying his feelings.

  Louis shook his head, his blue eyes solemn. “No. I do not need to ask you. Which is why I knew I was safe sending Eliza to your bed, because you would never bring her shame or dishonour.”

  “I dishonour her simply by walking by her side!” Nic retorted in frustration.

  “And that is where we disagree,” Louis said wearily. “Sometimes I wish to God Father had never found you. In doing so he saved me—though for his own good, not mine—but he damaged you, Nic, and I shall never forgive him that. Why can you never see that you are the best of us? You are the man I should wish to be if I were able, if I were good enough, and no amount of blue blood will ever bring me close.”

  “Don’t talk such maudlin rubbish,” Nic said, as irritated by this conversat
ion as he was whenever it came up. “You’re the Comte de Villen, a bloodline that goes back nearly eight hundred years, for the love of God.”

  Louis sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “You’re missing the point, Nic, but I am too tired to illustrate it to you. If you wish to fight with me, it must be in the morning. I’m going to bed.”

  With frustration, Nic watched his brother walk away from him and could only let him go, none the wiser as to why Louis was so damned addled in his thinking.

  Chapter 14

  Cat,

  You may sulk all you like. I’m not giving you the wretched book.

  If you are very nice to me, I might tell you about Eliza. Though it is not official yet so you must not breathe a word to anyone.

  Cross your heart and hope to die.

  My sister is engaged to Mr Demarteau. Papa is not happy at all as he is not respectable. I did not speak to him much when he was here last summer, but I like his brother, the comte. He taught me to play cards and was far more patient than Jules. I think I shall like having them as brothers, even if they aren’t quite the thing.

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

  6th April 1839, Beverwyck, London.

  Much to Eliza’s relief, Nic kept his word and called on her the next day. It was short, formal, rather excruciating, with the duchess in attendance and Nic obviously anxious and on his guard. She was almost relieved when he’d gone. Eliza remonstrated with her mother for not having made him feel more at home, but her mama had been adamant.

  “I will support this marriage with my whole heart if you are certain, Eliza, but you must open your eyes to reality. Indeed, I think you should spend some time with your Aunt Helena. Your uncle is taking her to see this strange new telegraph system he has installed along the railway line, and Helena has invited you and Mr Demarteau to go with them. I suggest you trouble yourself to speak frankly to her if the opportunity arises.”

  Eliza had agreed to this with alacrity, hoping to find a supporter in Helena, and that Nic would be more relaxed in such company.

  She was readying herself for their outing the next afternoon when she noticed a face unfamiliar at Beverwyck, but one she’d seen before. Eliza smiled at the footman who helped her with her new green velvet cloak.

  “Oh, it’s Peters, isn’t it?” she asked, recognising the man from Holbrook House.

  “That’s right, my lady,” he said, smiling at her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I was very happy at Holbrook, but I wanted to spend a bit of time in the big city, truth be told. Lucky for me, I heard of a position here at Beverwyck and the earl was good enough to recommend me for it. I’ve been here for a while now, but I’ve been mostly below stairs until this week.”

  “Well, how fortunate. I’m so pleased it worked out. I do hope you will be happy here.”

  The fellow blushed and looked a little abashed by her friendly words.

  “Sure I will be, my lady,” he said, ducking his head and hurrying away.

  Eliza waited impatiently until Nic’s carriage arrived and they set off for London Bridge. The new railway line that ran all the way to Croydon had caused Uncle Gabe no end of trouble and expense. The original estimate of the cost had almost tripled when new cuttings had to be made at New Cross and Forest Hill, but finally it was close to completion and ought to be open by the summer. This strange invention, though, which seemed to send messages through thin air was far more exciting to Eliza than a smelly, noisy train, which—while exhilarating and extraordinarily fast—she had found rather daunting.

  Jules had agreed to chaperone her for this outing, being fascinated by his uncle’s project too and eager to see the new contraption. This was all well and good, but having her younger brother sitting at the opposite side of the carriage made it impossible for Eliza to have any intimate conversation with her betrothed. At least Jules didn’t seem to dislike or resent Nic, and the two men conversed easily enough.

  At last, Jules took Eliza’s silent but eloquent hints and turned his attention to a book he’d brought with him. Relieved, Eliza cast Nic a glance from under her lashes to try to judge how he was feeling about today’s outing. She didn’t doubt yesterday’s visit would have confirmed all his worst fears, and she was very afraid he would get cold feet and bolt despite his promises. As she looked over at him, she discovered his gaze upon her, warm and full of affection, and something tight in her chest eased a little.

  “You look lovely today, my lady,” he said, smiling at her.

  Despite having been far more intimate with him than this, Eliza blushed. Ridiculous, but she could not help it. All at once, she had what she’d been dreaming of. Nic was here, courting her, and she felt giddy and strange, as though it were some lovely dream and she dare not disturb it for fear of waking.

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling self-conscious.

  She smoothed a hand over the grey gros de Naples carriage dress. She’d paired it with a green velvet shawl with white trim and a white chip bonnet adorned with green roses, and had hoped he would like it, for her sisters had all told her she looked very pretty.

  Finally, they arrived at Tooley Street and Nic got out, turning back to give Eliza his hand. She took a moment to admire him. His coat was a dark blue and highlighted his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He was fashionably though not extravagantly dressed, with a plain pale grey waistcoat and another of dark blue beneath, and elegantly tight fitted grey trousers which emphasised his muscular thighs shockingly well. Eliza swallowed and dragged her gaze back to his face to see his eyes had darkened.

  “Christ, don’t look at me like that, Eliza,” he murmured as he handed her down.

  She was suddenly breathless, remembering the morning in his bedroom, seeing him standing naked before her and wanting him with every fibre of her being. Eliza stared at him despite his protests, recalling too what she had said and knowing he was thinking of it too.

  I want you.

  “Come along,” he said tersely, though she well understood why that was and could only bite her lip to hide her smile as she placed her hand in his.

  She stepped down, careful with her full skirts, and then slid her hand into the crook of his arm as he guided her towards the station buildings. Previously The London and Greenwich Railway company had been the only station here, providing a booking hall and company offices, and two platforms at the end of the new viaduct, though without a train shed to cover the passengers. Unlike elsewhere, on this site Uncle Gabe had leased the LGR lines at first, but now he had his own line and building to the north of the LGR station.

  Eliza was unsurprised to discover the site was immaculate, and an attractive building of brick and wrought iron stood on the platform, with a covered area to shield waiting passengers from inclement weather. Eliza waved as she saw her aunt awaiting them.

  Now in her mid-forties, Helena was still utterly ravishing. Today, she wore a dark green carriage dress with a pelisse of black satin and matching bonnet, with lavish green trimmings that highlighted her extraordinary green eyes.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Eliza sighed. She had always greatly admired her aunt, who was a force to be reckoned with. “And her husband was born in the workhouse.”

  She gave Nic a so there look he couldn’t fail to miss.

  “The resemblance between you is uncanny,” Nic said dryly, though with such affection she knew he meant it and was not mocking her.

  Indeed, Eliza knew it was true, and not just in their choice of men. They shared the Adolphus green eyes and dark hair, and it was clear they were related.

  “It is so lovely to see you, Aunt,” Eliza said, embracing Helena warmly and kissing her cheek. “And I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé, Mr Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau. Mr Demarteau, this is my Aunt, Lady Helena.”

  �
��Enchanté, my lady,” Nic said, bowing over her hand.

  “Ah, I do love a Frenchman,” Helena said, a wicked twinkle in her eyes. “They have such pretty manners. I have heard a great deal about you, Mr Demarteau.”

  Nic returned a crooked grin. “I never doubted it.”

  Helena flashed them both a mischievous smile. “My brother is a sweetheart underneath it all, Mr Demarteau. It’s just you must do a great deal of digging before you’ll discover that. I do hope you have the stamina?”

  Nic opened and closed his mouth, clearly uncertain how to respond to this, but Helena just gave a merry laugh and took Eliza’s arm. “Come along, my dears. Gabe is just itching to show off his new toy.”

  Once inside the bureau where this wonder of technology was housed, her Uncle Gabe greeted Nic coolly and with a measuring glance before launching into an explanation of how the telegraph worked. Helena winked at her though, so Eliza relaxed and listened attentively to her uncle’s description. The telegraph itself was an odd looking thing. Sitting on an elaborately carved base was a black diamond-shaped frame. Within the diamond was a horizontal line at its middle, with five brass needles. The needles pointed above or below the line and when used in certain combinations by means of twelve white buttons, would point to a letter. Wires that ran all the way from here to the next station would take the signal and transmit the letter to another telegraph, where someone could write out the message.

  With obvious excitement and pride, Gabe demonstrated how it worked, sending the message, “All is ready at London Bridge Station.”

  A very short while later the needles began to move, and Eliza watched in fascination as it spelled out the reply.

  “All is ready at Croydon Station.”

  “That is extraordinary,” Eliza said, hardly able to believe the message had been sent a distance of perhaps fourteen miles in a matter of minutes. “Just imagine if people had such devices in their homes and could talk to each other without waiting days or weeks for a letter to arrive.”

  Her uncle looked at her with affectionate amusement.