Page 3 of Dare to be Wicked

“Come along,” Eliza said, threading her arm through his. She caught sight of the butler, who had discreetly made himself scarce during Mama’s little revelation. “Jenkins, I think perhaps Mama would like some chocolate too.”

“At once, Lady Elizabeth. And yourself?” he asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

Eliza smiled. Well, why not? “Yes, please.”

Young Jenkins—so called to avoid confusion, for he was the son of their last butler—moved briskly to do her bidding. She smiled at her father and walked beside him up the stairs. He said nothing more until they were halfway up.

“You must be excited to see Cassius tomorrow?”

Eliza glanced at him, unable to hide the little flush of colour she felt heating her face.

“I am,” she said softly.

Her father fell silent and she got the unnerving sensation he was about to say something she wouldn’t like.

“There’s no need to rush into anything. You do know that? You’re young yet, and he’s been away a long time now. You might not suit anymore. So… you should wait and get to know him better.”

“We’ve known each other all our lives, Papa, it’s hardly a rush,” she said, laughing, but her laughter died as she caught his expression.

“Yes, but….”

“But? Good heavens, surely you approve the match?” Eliza studied her father’s face, alarmed by the concern in his eyes. Whatever did he look so anxious about?

“Of course,” he said, patting her hand. “But he’s been gone for two whole years. People change, feelings change, and….”

Eliza’s heart thudded with apprehension. He might not love you anymore. The words remained unsaid, but she heard them all the same. No. That was silly. Cassius was loyal to a fault, they’d loved each other all their lives, and their lovely future was all laid out for them. It had been for years. He was to help her begin her charitable organisation. They were going to change the world and make it a better place together.

Admittedly, Cassius was only a viscount. To accomplish everything she hoped for, a duke would have been so much better, but… but he was her dearest friend, and she loved him. Surely Papa could have no objections?

“He’s your friend, Eliza, your dearest friend.”

“Yes,” she said simply as he echoed her thoughts, perplexed.

They had reached the top of the stairs. Her father turned and took her hands. “Darling, friendship is certainly not a terrible basis for a good marriage, far from it, but… but it may not be enough. Just don’t go making any rash decisions. There is time yet. Promise me.”

Eliza nodded jerkily, unbalanced by this whole conversation. She would marry Cassius. That had always been their plan. They’d never said it in so many words, but they both understood it. He’d told her these years in France would be enough to quiet his desire for travel and adventure and then he’d be ready to settle down. He was coming home from France to propose to her. Everyone knew that. They did.

Didn’t they?

Lottie stared blankly out of the carriage window. She had slept heavily but not well, and her eyes were gritty and hot. The carriage was stuffy, too, and little Harry fidgeted between her and Eliza. Lottie didn’t mind travelling as a rule, in fact she enjoyed it and never complained about uncomfortable carriages and long journeys. Today though she just wanted to scream at the coachman to stop and let her get out. As Mama was tired and out of sorts, her parents were travelling in their own carriage, so Lottie and Eliza were crammed in with their siblings. Understandably Jules had opted to ride for most of the journey. Like Harry, he hated being confined in a carriage for any length of time.

“Do keep still, Harry, dear,” Eliza said, tucking one of her brother’s dark curls behind his ear.

“I want to get out,” the boy said, pouting and folding his arms. Sitting still for above two minutes together was torture of the worst kind for the child.

“I know, but we can’t, not yet. And you must be pleased we are going to Holbrook. Cat will be there.”

“Cat? Oh!” the boy said, brightening at once at the name of his favourite person.

Ten-year-old Lady Catherine was beloved by all, a cheeky, cheerful, beautiful child, and youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.

“Do you suppose her brothers have changed their plans?” Ozzie asked wistfully.

Lottie looked to their siblings on the opposite bench. Rosamund, Victoria, and Frederick—or Ozzie, Torie, and Fred, as they were known by the family—regarded her with hopeful expressions.

“No, Pip and Tom have gone to stay at Mitcham Priory.”

Ozzie huffed and glowered out of the window, and Lottie smiled. She knew just how the child felt. It was awful when your favourite people were far away from you. Not that the Priory was that far; it was easy enough to visit if they wished to. Being close to your favourite people was not always a blessing, though. Sometimes it was utter misery.