Page 27 of Just a Little Daring

Vivien’s eyes widened in surprise. August seemed such a gentle fellow. “Someone must have sorely provoked him to do such a thing.”

Bella nodded and patted her hand. “It was done quietly, thank goodness. No one any the wiser on this occasion.”

After church, at the Bainbridges’ own private chapel, the party walked back to the house as a few desultory snowflakes fell to the frozen ground.

“There, you see, darling. The ground did not shudder and open to reveal the fiery pits of hell, nor did the sky fall in,” Arabella said, soothing her husband who had attended the church service under duress and grumbled all the way to there.

“Hmph,” Bainbridge muttered. “Just because I got away with it once, there’s no need to make a habit of it. Tempting fate, I should say.”

“But the vicar here is so much more interesting that Reverend Wibberley, and he was so pleased to see you,” Bella insisted.

“No, he wasn’t,” Bainbridge retorted. “He looked horrified. Spent half the service staring at my boots, reckon he was checking for cloven hooves.”

Arabella snorted and shook her head. “Dreadful man.”

“Don’t make out you don’t prefer me that way,” Bainbridge said loftily. “You’d be wretched with some dull dog who never put a foot wrong.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” his wife said, giving his arm a soothing pat. “I adore you, just as you are.”

Bainbridge looked smug. “There, see, August? Just because you’re a devil with a scandalous family, don’t mean you can’t find some deluded angel to marry you.”

“I am not deluded!” Bella retorted indignantly. “I am well aware of what you are and are not.”

“Yes, and you love me anyway, you silly article,” Bainbridge concluded cheerfully. “So August ought to find someone too. Especially as he’s so much more adept at hiding his worst characteristics. Aren’t you, old man?” he said, mischief dancing in his eyes.

August gave his friend a warning glare but said nothing.

“Does he have worst characteristics?” Vivien asked innocently, aware she was stirring the pot, exactly as Bainbridge had wanted her to do.

“Oh, loads of ’em. Most of our lot’s dreadful behaviour stems from some idea of August’s. We lured twenty cats into Almack’s once at his behest. Do you remember, August? They had those revolting fish paste sandwiches that night, all curling up at the edges, and you said you had a better use for them. He left a trail up to the back of the building and a window open with a stash of the dreadful things tempting them in.”

August tsked impatiently. “Bainbridge, I really don’t think Miss Anson needs to hear—”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Viv interrupted with undisguised glee.

“Have you ever tried herding cats, Miss Anson?” Bainbridge grinned. “Well, to watch some of the high sticklers of the ton doing just that was the highlight of an extremely dull evening.”

“Yes, and then we were banned for life,” August retorted crossly.

“No, no. Dare, Raphe and I were banned for life, thank the Lord. Lady Jersey reinstated you after you told that fool to hold his tongue when he was rattling on about her daughter’s acting out an infatuation with Prince Nicholas, and her and her blessed mama’s devious scheming for her to marry into royalty. Of course, August didn’t know Silence Jersey was listening but defended her daughter anyway, and so regained her ladyship’s favour.”

August shrugged. “It was quite obvious the two of them were madly in love. There was no acting involved, and I despise gossip about anybody.”

“You see, Miss Anson, August is so thoroughly noble and good-hearted he can be as dreadful as the rest of my wicked friends, but he is always forgiven. And what about that to-do at the balloon ascension at Green Park? They read the riot act that time.”

Viv watched, fascinated, as August’s eyes flashed with irritation.

“I did not mean it to go so far. If those bloody drunken sots hadn’t started pushing people about, it would never have happened. They were violently out of control, and mean with it. They deserved to be taken in hand, the damned brutes.”

August flushed, crests of colour at his cheeks as he realised he ought not to speak in such a forthright manner before the ladies. “I beg your pardon, Arabella, Miss Anson.”

Bella only laughed—she was married to Bainbridge, after all—and Viv grinned at him.

“Ah, they did indeed deserve it, and I admit it was not your fault in the least. The best laid plans, et cetera,” Bainbridge said mournfully, though he looked thoroughly entertained. “And yours were always that. What about the time you swapped the house master’s sherry for vinegar, or the fireworks that went off exactly when that vile bully Travis was about to pound poor Barnaby Godwin for the third time that week? Exploded right up his arse, scared him witless, and gave Barnaby the chance to escape. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in my life.”

“They thrashed us for that,” August reminded him with a resigned sigh. “You worst of all, because you told the headmaster Travis had it coming, and it was about time someone took him in hand if the beaks kept turning a blind eye.”

“True enough, but it was worth it. Travis broke your nose in retaliation, if I recall, though you knocked him down in the end. I’d do it again. Wouldn’t you?”