Page 4 of Dare to be Wicked

Stop it, she chided herself. She ought to be happy for Eliza. Eliza was good and kind and never said anything rash. She never lost her temper, unlike Lottie. Lottie was not good and kind, either. She couldn’t be, or she would not be so angry, so horribly, wildly jealous. Only it wasn’t fair. Cassius had left before she’d been able to make him see what was right in front of him. Was she really the only one who could see Cassius and Eliza were all wrong for each other? They were friends, yes—the best of friends, and that ought never change—but… oh, but there was no passion, no desire, no love, not of the sort Lottie wanted, the sort she saw between her parents, or between Montagu and his Marchioness.

The world still feared Montagu. Indeed, he was intimidating, but the way he looked at his wife… good lord, it made Lottie blush to think of it! And they were ancient, nearly fifty at least. If they still felt that way after all these years, what must it have been like when they were young? Goodness, it was a wonder they hadn’t gone up in flames.

That was what Lottie wanted. She wanted to see that wild hunger in her husband’s eyes, desire that could not be tamed.

“Are you all right, Lottie? You look awfully flushed,” her younger brother Fred observed.

“Of course I’m flushed. It’s dreadfully hot in here,” she retorted, mortified.

She snatched up her fan and waved it vigorously. How shocking she was to be thinking of such things. Lottie stole a glance at her sister; elegant, with not a hair out of place and not looking the least bit as though she was hot and sweaty and would throttle the next person who asked if they were nearly there yet. No doubt Eliza didn’t think of such things at all, which was precisely why she was all wrong for Cassius. Cassius was raw masculine beauty and, beneath the veneer of elegant nobleman, he had a core of wildness that called out to Lottie. He longed for adventure in wild, exotic places and to see the world in all its aspects. Eliza hated adventure, she did not understand it, had never understood the make believe worlds that Lottie had created in their games. Cassius had. Eliza would never understand his need to go away and would not wish to follow. Yet all the world knew they had made their choice years ago, when they were little more than children.

Cassius would marry Eliza. He was coming home to propose to her, not to Lottie, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

Chapter 2

Cassius,

I look forward to seeing you again on your return. Rumour has it a proposal is imminent. Surely not?

―Excerpt of letter to Cassius Cadogan, Viscount Oakley, from Mr Ashton Anson—son of Lord Silas Cavendish and Lady Aashini Cavendish.

29th June 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.

“Mother, I do not understand your objection. I thought it was your dearest wish that I marry Eliza?”

Cassius regarded his mama’s troubled expression with trepidation. She was thinking, and that was often cause for alarm. As a child he had believed his mother had the power to read his mind, for there was no mischief that he got into that she wasn’t very well aware of before he had even bestirred himself to begin it. Surprising her seemed nigh on impossible. She sat in her favourite chair in her favourite room: the library, the place where she was most often to be found if she was not with his father. Naturally, there was some incomprehensible and weighty tome in her lap.

“My dearest wish is for you to be happy, and I do not think it wise to rush into anything after such a long time apart.”

Something that Cassius refused to identify as relief unfurled in his chest. “So you forbid me to propose to her?”

Had that been a hopeful tone? Surely not.

His mother’s eyes grew sharp behind her spectacles, studying him.

“Of course not,” she said at once. “You are a man grown and your decisions are just that, but decisions have consequences, Cassius, and not just for you. I love Eliza as dearly as if she were my own child and, if I were confident you would be happy together, I would not murmur the least objection.”

“But you are not confident.” Cassius turned and frowned down at his father’s desk, tracing a finger over an ink stain that marred the polished wood.

“Neither are you.”

That was the trouble with his mother, Cassius reflected gloomily. She was a dashed sight too perceptive for a fellow’s comfort and she never minced her words. He said nothing, unable to contradict her, his stomach churning with an acidic brew of guilt and anxiety.

“She’s expecting me to propose to her. She’s been waiting all this time. How can I—?”

“How can you marry a woman to whom your heart is not fully engaged? That would be horribly unfair to you both.”

“I don’t know that it isn’t,” Cassius replied, frustrated now. “It always used to be, but….”

But what? But he’d fallen out of love with her? No, he did not think that was it. Not exactly, for he loved Eliza just as he always had, but… but, damn it.

“But it’s been two long years. Years in which you have changed dramatically, I can see that much with my own eyes. You’ve become a man, you’ve seen something of the world. Childish visions of what you wanted for the future now jostle with reality, and it has shaken your resolve.”

Cassius nodded, wretched. He had longed to see Eliza for months now, to tell her about everything he had seen and done, yet the closer he had got to home, the heavier the burden of his future had grown. The weight of it had sparked a thread of resentment towards his dearest friend, for which he had no explanation and for which he felt himself to be an utter brute. He promised her he would be ready to settle down on his return, a promise he now saw had been beyond foolish. His two years away had not settled his desire for travel but increased it. He’d met so many interesting people who’d told him stories of far off lands that he longed to explore. Eliza was no adventurer. She did not dream of far off places. As a child she had never quite understood the make believe games her sister Lottie had created of travelling through a foreign land, searching for lost treasure. Eliza had always been a little perplexed by the idea, though she had joined in gamely enough in the end. No, Eliza had plans for her future, grand ambitions which he had admired and encouraged, but they all began at home.

“What do I do?” he asked helplessly. “I cannot hurt her, cannot disappoint her.”

His mother pushed her spectacles up her nose, set her book aside, and got to her feet before moving towards him. Her expression was grave but full of warmth as she took his hands in hers and gave a little squeeze.