Page 24 of Just a Little Daring

“Ne t'inquiète pas,” he said softly. “I’ll get the little devil.”

Evie stared at him. “But you can’t, not now. Not from up there!”

“You think not?” he said, giving her a reproachful frown. “How you underestimate me, ma petite.”

Before she could say another word, Louis stripped off his coat, handed it to her, and then climbed up the heavily beamed wall, agile as a cat. It had been some years since he had done anything of this nature, but he kept himself fit with a daily regime of exercises he had begun when Nic had trained him for the circus so very long ago. This was child’s play, though shocking to the crowd below, who gasped at seeing a nobleman do something so outrageous. His brother would have his head for this, he didn’t doubt. He didn’t care.

Louis looked down to see Evie watching him, a hand pressed to her mouth, the other to her heart. Was that heart beating faster merely out of fear? Did she truly never consider him as a lover? Perhaps she needed to see a glimpse of who he truly was, rather than the polite face he showed the rest of the world. Besides, he wasn’t above showing off for the benefit of his beloved. A lowering realisation, to discover she had reduced him to performing tricks for her attention, but there you had it.

In a move designed entirely to shock and impress, instead of climbing the beams as a sensible soul might, he leapt from the end wall to catch hold of the long joist that spanned the width of the building, much as the monkey had done. Screams from below indicated it had looked as impressive as he’d hoped, though it had not been so very far. In the circus, he had performed from greater heights and done far more dangerous things, though that was a lifetime ago now.

Louis swung up onto the joist with ease and dusted off his hands. The mischievous capuchin, who was sitting in the middle of the beam, retreated to the far end, dragging his loot behind him. Louis grinned. This was like old times, climbing into impossible places to steal someone’s jewels. Mon Dieu, Nic would have an apoplexy when he found out. At this moment, Louis didn’t give a damn. He was having far too much fun.

“Monsieur! Please, be careful!” Evie’s voice drifted up to him and he flashed her a grin before running across the beam in pursuit of the monkey.

More gasps from below, but the beam was wide and solid compared to a tightrope, and held no challenge. He could have turned a cartwheel and walked on his hands without a second thought, but he wasn’t quite that far gone to good sense and propriety. Yet. At the far end, the monkey chattered and climbed the wall again, so Louis slowed, holding out a hand.

“Non, non, you do not wish to run away from me. I am here to save you from that big, angry fellow. He wants to shoot you down. Come, come, you little devil. You will be safe, and I will be a hero for my young lady. It is not such a terrible deal, alors?”

The monkey chattered, clutching the jewels tighter.

“I know. I sympathise, truly. They are pretty, but we cannot always have what we want. Believe me, I know. See? I have something sparkly too.” Louis reached for the sapphire pin Evie had given him, turning it in his cravat so it caught the light.

The monkey’s eyes lit up.

“Oui, it is beautiful. Viens. Come and have a closer look, come along,” Louis crooned softly. Monkeys had often caused havoc in the circus, and having been bitten a time or two as a boy, he was loath to get too close, but at least this one did not seem bad-tempered, only avaricious.

Finally, curiosity got the better of the animal, and the monkey leapt onto his shoulder. Louis inspected the rubies with a contemptuous snort, before tucking the necklace in his pocket, whilst the monkey tugged at the big sapphire in his cravat, which was hopefully securely pinned. A great cheer rose from beneath him, and unable to resist the temptation, Louis executed a theatrical bow before making things worse by dropping off the beam, catching it again with one hand, and then leaping gracefully to the floor. The monkey clung on throughout before running off into the arms of its relieved owner.

Screams, gasps, cheers, and general uproar filled the barn and Louis was immediately besieged by women. The most insistent of these was the owner of the rubies. The Marchioness of Attingham took Louis’ hand and pressed it firmly against her considerable bosom.

“Oh, Monsieur Le Comte, how heroic of you! You might have been killed, and all to save my rubies. I declare I’ve seen nothing so selfless in my life. I owe you a great debt.”

Louis smiled and decided it might be prudent not to tell her he was saving the monkey and didn’t give a damn for her rubies, which were not rubies at all. He gave a hesitant tug at his hand, but the lady’s grip was akin to being held in a vice.

“You ought to be rewarded for such heroism,” she enthused, giving him a coquettish look.

As a large lady perilously close to her sixtieth year, the expression sat ill upon her heavily powdered face.

Louis cleared his throat and made another attempt to tug his hand free of its fleshy prison.

“Returning your property is reward enough, my lady,” he said, holding out the necklace to her.

“Amelia, let the damned frog go,” barked the marquess, snatching the necklace from Louis and stuffing it in his pocket. “It’s time we left this madhouse and its occupants.”

The marchioness flushed and released Louis’ hand, which was a relief. But, bearing in mind the service he’d just rendered to the marquess, the added insult did not impress Louis.

“Madam,” he said gently, lowering his voice and using his most seductive tone, playing up his accent to the hilt. “I regret to inform you that someone has done you a grave disservice, for those jewels are not rubies, but merely paste.”

The marchioness’ eyes widened with horror. “No! No, that is not possible.”

“Don’t be damned ridiculous,” the marquess blustered, and Louis knew at once from his reaction that he knew very well they were paste. So the rumours of his gambling debts and monetary problems were true, then. From the furious glint in the marchioness’ eyes, it was obvious she knew it, too.

“Gilbert,” she said, a warning note to her voice that made the marquess pale somewhat.

Louis took advantage of the moment and left, making his way as best he could through the fluttering ladies as they alternately flattered, charmed and, in one case, groped him.

“Thank you, ladies. The spectacle is over. Give the comte room to breathe, would you?”