Page 46 of Dare to be Wicked

“I think you should leave.”

“No,” Cassius said, breaking his silence. “No. It… It was not his fault.”

“Not his fault?” their father retorted. “We saw him storm out of the summerhouse and attack you!”

Cassius gritted his teeth but spoke again. “He was provoked.”

The duke waved this away. “Nonetheless, we cannot have such behaviour. A gentleman does not go about knocking seven bells out of his host at a ball. You could at least wait for the proper time and place, and go about it like gentlemen.”

“Pistols at dawn,” Demarteau sneered, not helping himself a great deal.

“Ta guele!” Louis César muttered under his breath, glaring at his brother.

Demarteau clamped his mouth shut, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“Will someone explain what is going on!”

Everyone stared at Eliza in surprise, astonished by her outburst.

“Well, something is,” she said, throwing up her hands. “We all know it, we just don’t know what it is.”

“There is nothing going on,” Mr Demarteau said, though he seemed to vibrate with the effort of speaking and not lunging at Cassius again. “It is only that I am not a gentleman, as you see, and I have the oddest notions about honourable behaviour. My apologies once again, my lady. I shall leave you to your entertainments.”

He gave her a stiff bow and stalked away. Louis César hurried after him and Eliza watched them go for a long moment. Then she turned back to Cassius.

“You’re all mad!” she exclaimed in fury and ran off with a frantic rustle of skirts.

By the time Lottie had seen Eliza to her room and allowed her to vent her feelings about idiotic men and their ridiculous, barbaric behaviour, it was late. Most of those guests who had come by carriage had made their goodbyes, and those staying had drifted up to their rooms. Thankfully, only her father and the earl had witnessed the scene between Demarteau and Cassius, and so no one was any the wiser. It appeared Mr Demarteau had left at once, returning to London, she imagined, or wherever he’d been all this time. For the life of her, Lottie could not understand why he had attacked Cassius. They were friends. It made no sense.

Though she was tired, Lottie did not wish to go to bed. She wished the ball was not yet over, for she had missed her dance with Cassius as his father had towed him off to his study. She had no doubt the earl would want a full and frank explanation of what had gone on, and could only pity Cassius having to endure it. With a sigh of frustration, she wandered the vast house until she arrived at the schoolroom. It was empty now, the children having gone to bed ages ago, but it was full of memories. This was the backdrop to many of her childhood reminiscences, when the weather was too bad to play outside, or if Lottie could not persuade Eliza into whatever mischief she’d suggested.

There was a battered old sofa in the corner, with a table on either side of it. The table was stacked with books, just as it had always been. They had snuggled up together here to listen to Eliza read to them, as she was the best at it. She would act the parts, changing her voice to suit the characters and having them in whoops sometimes at the comical way she said things. Eliza might not have much of an imagination, but she was a keen observer of people and their mannerisms. Lottie plopped down on the sofa with a flurry of skirts and petticoats and sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

“Funny, I knew I’d find you here.”

“Cassius!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “What on earth happened?”

He shook his head and came to sit down beside her. “I’ll tell you in a moment. Just… give me five minutes. My head is still ringing after my father’s little talk.”

“Was he terribly angry?”

“Not terribly. I don’t think father gets terribly angry—well unless someone upsets Mother. No, he was just frustrated because I refused to tell him what it was about.”

Lottie desperately wanted to ask the same thing but he’d said he needed a moment, so she held her tongue. She stared at him, at the moonlight as it caught the strong lines of his profile, the long straight nose and the hard line of his jaw, those sculpted lips that were so very soft and….

“Damnation, Lottie, don’t look at me like that. We’re in enough trouble,” he said ruefully.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about you, about the other night.”

“Me either.”

He reached out and threaded their fingers together.

“Tell me something amusing,” he said with a sigh, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. Lottie did the same but turned her head to watch him.

“I was just remembering this room and being here as children. Do you remember Eliza reading to us and making all the voices?”

Cassius chuckled. “I do. How funny she was. Does she still do it?”