Page 19 of The Mistletoe Dare

Dearest Evie,

I hope you are well. It seems an age since we saw you last. Do come and visit soon. Even Hart is cheerful when you are around. So, you must be welcome.

Have you lots of celebrations and parties to attend this Christmas? Poor Mama must juggle between accepting the right amount to be polite and not make Papa and Hart utterly miserable. They bear it with good grace and rarely complain, but they really don’t have the patience for polite society. Heaven help them when I come out, for I shall want to go to every ball I can. Not to catch a husband, for I’m in no hurry for that, but I do love to dance. They’ll hate every minute, the poor dears.

―Excerpt of a letter from Kathleen de Beauvoir (daughter of Mr and Mrs Inigo and Minerva de Beauvoir) to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Mr Gabriel and Lady Helena Knight).

Evening of the 8th of December 1840, Mrs Barclay’s Rout Party, Grosvenor Square, London.

“How have you been?” Nic asked his brother. “I feel you’ve been avoiding me these past weeks.”

Louis César’s beautiful face was impassive, revealing nothing. The damned mask he wore was firmly in place tonight. Nic wondered when the last time was he’d seen it slip. Once upon a time, he and Louis had been inseparable, hiding nothing from each other. In fact, Louis had hated not having him around. He never had borne being alone well, but recently Nic barely saw him.

“Very well, as you see,” Louis replied, though he didn’t turn to look at Nic, just watched the room.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

Louis did turn then, quirking one elegant eyebrow just a little. “It was a decision, was it?” he asked mildly.

Nic shrugged. “We wanted you here. The duchess wanted you here, Aggie and your Miss Evie wanted you here.”

“She’s not my Miss Evie,” Louis snapped, glaring at him.

Nic raised his hands in a surrendering movement. “D’accord, if you say so.”

“Who says otherwise?” he demanded.

Nic’s eyebrows went up, a little surprised by his brother’s defensiveness. “No one, you just always seem thick as thieves, that’s all. You still write to her, don’t you?”

Louis shrugged, which Nic took to be a yes. He had long been puzzled by Louis’ close relationship with Evie Knight. She seemed an unlikely confidante for Louis, because Louis always had access to the most beautiful women for company. No, that was not quite correct. He could understand Louis being her friend. His brother was inherently kind and always had a soft spot for a waif or stray… hence Aggie. Not that Evie was a waif or stray, but she did not fit the mould of the usual debutante either, and Louis would always recognise another outsider. It was what they both were. Oh, Louis might look as though he belonged here among the ton for he was handsome and titled and rich, but underneath was a different matter. Underneath, he was still a boy dressed in rags, who got tossed scraps to eat and slept on the kitchen floor. Louis might not realise Nic knew that was still true, but it was. Even so, he had not expected Louis to make Evie of all people his closest friend, yet Nic was certain he had, which was both puzzling, and a worry.

It could ruin Evie and, if that happened, it would destroy Louis.

Speak of the devil. Here was the young lady herself.

“Monsieur Le Comte,” she said, beaming at Louis. “Will you come and play cards, please?”

Nic watched with interest as the stern lines of Louis’ face softened in her presence and the mask fell, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“Surely, I taught you a lesson the last time we played, Miss Knight? I am not good-natured enough to let you win.”

“I should hope not!” she said indignantly, and with such vehemence that Louis smiled. “I shall beat you fair and square or not at all.”

“Well, if you must learn the hard way.” Louis held out his arm, told Nic he would see him later, and escorted Miss Knight to the card room.

Nic watched them go, lost in thought.

“Why, Lady Georgina, I believe you have made a conquest.”

Georgina looked at Jules in consternation. “What are you talking about? What conquest?”

Jules gestured to the other side of the crowded room where people were milling about, drinking and chatting. There would be dancing later, but for now there was a concert going on in the ballroom, some famous opera singer by all accounts. Georgina did not feel like sitting still, though, and she had avoided the card room for the same reason. She felt fractious and out of sorts, though she wasn’t sure why, and Jules making cryptic comments was not helping her temper. Georgie craned her neck, able to see over the heads of much of the crowd, unlike most of the female guests, not that the new arrival was hard to miss.

Her mouth fell open, and she turned to stare at Jules.

“You cannot be serious?”

“Why not? He never attends parties or balls, or any of the ton events. Yet you want him to come and voila, here he is.” Jules put his hands out as if to say, you explain it.