Page 26 of Just a Little Daring

“Well, the excitement appears to be over, so I had better escort you home, Miss Anson,” Mr Lane-Fox said, holding out his arm for Vivien.

“Oh, and I must collect my bag of presents,” Aggie said, dashing off.

Louis waited until they had walked off, smiling at Evie as she held out his coat for him.

“Thank you, ma petite,” he said as she helped him on with the snugly fitting garment.

Louis stared down at her as her small hands smoothed his lapels.

“There,” she said, once she was satisfied.

“As efficient as my valet,” he teased gently, wondering if he dare flirt with her. “Should you like the job?”

“And have poor Elton cut my throat whilst I sleep before casting himself into the Thames? I think not. That man guards you as jealously as the crown jewels,” she retorted, laughing as she took his arm.

Evie looked up expectantly when he did not immediately escort her out.

“Would you have cared if I’d fallen, Evie?”

Her expression was one of horror. “Oh, Louis! How can you ask such a ridiculous question? We have been friends for too long. You are my confidant and the keeper of my secrets, no matter how foolish they are. You are irreplaceable and you know it, therefore I conclude you are fishing for compliments.”

Not compliments, only a glimmer of hope, he begged silently. Only the merest hint that I might one day be more than I am to you, mon coeur.

“Ah, you see through me with such ease,” he said sadly, though such an emotion was too easy to summon.

“No,” Evie said thoughtfully. She stared up at him, her green eyes so piercing he wondered what it was she did see when she looked at him. “I do not believe that is true, Louis. Perhaps it was once, but no longer. I confide in you, but you no longer return the favour. Do you no longer trust me?”

Louis hesitated, uncertain of what to say in reply, for if he trusted her with his heart, would he not give it to her now, without question? But she was not ready for such a declaration, she was too young, too innocent for a man with so many secrets and so very dark a past, and he was too afraid she could hurt him like no one else had ever done before. The kind of hurt that he would not survive.

“I give you more than anyone else on this planet, Evie,” he said, his voice grave, choosing his words with care. “And I trust you above anyone else, save my own brother. One day I hope you may be the keeper of all my secrets, but I would not burden you with them now, for they are not pretty things to be shared lightly. I am not so shabby a fellow that I would ease my own mind in return for causing you distress.”

“Are your secrets so very grave, Louis?” she asked, and he cursed himself for the concern already clouding her beautiful eyes.

Louis lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “My past is complicated, but it is in the past. The future is so much more agreeable, n'est-ce pas? Let us consider that for now.”

“For now,” Evie agreed, perhaps sensing she would get no more from him on the subject, but her expression remained wary as he escorted her out.

Louis prayed he had not done more harm than good.

Chapter 9

Nic,

I know, I know. I am a thousand times a fool and I beg you will forgive me. My judgement is not what it once was and the reason for my desperate bid for attention was to be found in the audience. What could I do but act like an infatuated boy showing off for his sweetheart?

Perhaps you should do me a kindness and shoot me, for I fear what I might be reduced to next. Perhaps I will call out Mr Hadley-Smythe, or pick a fight with any one of her growing legion of admirers. Mon Dieu, I am making myself crazy.

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to his brother, Monsieur Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau. Translated from French.

6th March 1841, Axton House, Piccadilly, London.

The time passed in a flurry of activity, with Vivien delighted to discover August at her side more often than not. He was funny and attentive, and looked at her as if she were the embodiment of his every dream. She knew she was tumbling head over heels at a demented pace and did not care. In the last few days, Lady Compton Domville had held an assembly at her home at Number Five Grosvenor Square. The dancing—to Weippert's band—had begun at eleven thirty, with a lavish supper being served around one thirty in the morning. Next was a supper party held by the Bainbridges’ neighbours, Lord and Lady Granger, which went on into the early hours. Lady Anne Wilbraham had also held a soirée dansante at the family mansion in Lower Brook Street, with over two hundred of the leading fashionables in attendance.

Little wonder that, by Sunday morning, everyone at the breakfast table was looking somewhat jaded. Vivien, in contrast, felt marvellous. A tad weary, perhaps, but Mr Lane-Fox had been so solicitous these past days, seeking her company constantly instead of running from it, and dancing with her twice at the Compton Domville affair, and once last night at the soirée dansante. The ‘once’ and not twice niggled at her a little, and she had been aware of a change in his demeanour as the evening grew late. He had disappeared for a while and, when he returned, there had been a spot of blood on his gloves. Something had been said, something had happened, she felt certain, and she determined to discover what had eaten at his peace of mind. Aware that he would likely not give her the answer she wanted, she turned elsewhere for information.

During the Sunday church service, Vivien sat next to Arabella and whispered the question to her whilst the vicar closed his eyes to pray for their eternal souls.

Bella darted August a look and waited until the vicar was intent on a rousing sermon before she replied. “His mother is living openly with another woman, as a husband and wife live. Between his mama and his rather scandalous sisters, poor August must put up with a deal of ridicule. Bainbridge told me someone said something to him last night that he took exception to, so he took the fellow outside. Knocked him out cold.”