Page 53 of Dare to be Wicked

Louis César pursed his lips, considering this. He gave a little laugh, which Lottie thought held a note of bitterness.

“Non, non. No, I do not think I am very nice, but then I am not so very bad, and I hope she marries me too.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he winked at her, and Lottie laughed as she was supposed to, but wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him.

“Come,” he said, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to her. “It is unacceptable for a beautiful young lady to be alone in her sadness. I shall escort you back to the house and endeavour to lift your spirits. Perhaps I might help bring about a reconciliation between you and Lady Elizabeth.”

Lottie smiled and allowed him to help her up.

“I don’t know. For all her easy nature and mild manners, she can be remarkably stubborn when the mood takes her. Only she does it so prettily no one notices. Not that I can blame her,” she added quickly.

Louis César nodded. “She is a clever young woman, far more so than one might realise at first glance, but I think—for now, at least—she is not in the mood play nicely.”

“No,” Lottie said wryly. “I noticed that too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper before. None of us have. We were never more shocked. As a child, I was the one who had temper fits and Eliza was a model of good behaviour.”

She took his arm and they walked back to the house together. As they entered through the main doors, Lottie took a breath, relieved by the cooler air inside the great house, and then paused as she saw Eliza watching them.

“Ah, there you are, Monsieur le Comte,” Eliza said. “I have been looking for you this age, as we have a guest awaiting you, and here you are… with Charlotte. How amusing.”

Lottie flushed at the irritation glinting in her sister’s eyes, aware of her implication. After all, Louis César was supposed to be courting Eliza now.

“Yes, a happy circumstance,” Louis César said smoothly. “I was walking down by the lake and found the poor child crying, so I thought I had best bring her directly to her sister for comfort.”

“Oh,” Eliza said, her cool expression faltering and her voice faint. “Oh, Lottie, I….”

She took a step closer, holding out her hands, but before she could say another word, a strident, heavily accented French voice cut through the great hall.

“Alors! Enfin, and why am I not surprised to discover I ’ave been kept waiting whilst you entertain a pretty young lady?”

Lottie turned in surprise towards the throaty voice to see a ravishing woman. She was exceptionally lovely, perhaps in her mid-thirties, with raven black hair that clustered in thick curls about her face. Her carriage gown was the height of fashion and made of a deep emerald green pou de soie. The sleeves bore an extravaganza of ruffles and puffs, and a lavish line of ruffles and bows flounced down the front of the gown and trembled with fury as the lady swept towards Louis César like an avenging angel.

Louis César stiffened and did not look the least bit pleased to see her.

“Madame Lafitte, I was unaware you had been invited to Holbrook House.”

She tsked at him and snapped open the black silk fan she carried, waving it furiously and putting up her chin. It dawned on Lottie that this lady was not entirely respectable, and she wondered at her temerity in chasing Louis César down at a private house party. Bold was not the word. Was she his mistress?

“Of course I ’ave not been invited, but this is what I am reduced to. Regardez-moi, chères dames,” she said, turning beseeching eyes upon Eliza and Lottie. “This is what a man can do. I am forced to follow this one and ’is wicked brother across the seas for the sake of my ’onour.”

Louis César made a choked sound and she glared at him.

“La manche, ma chère,” he said dryly. “The Channel is not quite the Atlantic Ocean and I fear you have wasted your time. My brother is not here, and he owes you nothing.”

“’E owes me everything,” she hissed. “And do not think I will not tell all your sordid stories if ’e does not do as ’onour demands.”

“Come, Eliza,” Lottie said, for once remembering her manners long before her sister, who was staring at Madame intently. Truly, it was better than the opera, though, so Lottie could hardly blame her. “We had best leave Louis César to speak to Madame in private.”

“But Madame abhors privacy,” Louis César said coldly. “She wishes for an audience, before which she may pour her vitriol to the maximum effect.”

“I do not comprehend this….” the lady said, feigning ignorance though her colour had risen enough for Lottie to deduce she’d understood plenty. Instead she turned her attention to Eliza and Lottie once more, her eyes narrowing. “My English it is not so good, but ’ere is a picture so pretty, so innocente, I wonder… Non, do not tell. I guess. Voila, c’est the lady Elizabet, n’est-ce pas?”

Lottie moved closer to Eliza as the woman drew towards her sister.

“Madame,” Louis César said, and he was moving too, addressing her angrily. “The ladies have no part in this. Leave them be. If you wish to discuss it—”

“But this child is too sweet for a man of your nature, Louis. She is not the type to please you,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “You would be a fool to marry ’er. You will find ’er dull, and you, ma jolie fille, ’e only wants you to make his dirty name all clean and pretty again.”

Eliza gasped at the bitterness in the woman’s voice, and Lottie clutched at her hand.