Page 3 of Just a Little Daring

“My, but you are a little ray of sunshine today.” Anna tutted. “It wasn’t my fault that big brute pinched me. Why must men see a single woman and think she is fair game? Must I be a prostitute because I do not have a man standing beside me? And it was hardly my fault he fell against that drunken lout and his friends. Did I make the lot of them start hitting each other or breaking windows? No, I did not.”

“No, love, of course not, and the bastard needed a clout around the head for laying a finger on you. I should have gladly done it myself… but if you’d not been there alone, dressed as a flower seller, it would never have happened,” August pointed out, not unreasonably in his view.

“No. If I had been a good, well-behaved, obedient young lady, I should be at home crocheting or doing needlepoint whilst my brain died by slow degrees and I screamed silently inside until I was dead,” Anna remarked. “Is that what I should do, August, so I don’t invite men to pinch my bottom simply by being in the same street as them?”

August felt the powerful desire to dash his brains out against the nearest brick wall, but took a breath. “No, Anna, of course not. The fellow was an ignorant brute, and it’s wretchedly unfair. I know it’s unfair, but it is how the world is. I cannot change it for you, and you cannot change it either. You can only make yourself and the rest of our family into pariahs. I don’t wish to be a pariah, Anna.”

His sister sent him a mutinous look he recognised only too well. “I might not change things in this lifetime, or even for the next generation, but perhaps I can build a steppingstone, as Mary Wollstonecraft did, a small but solid step up for women everywhere, something to lean upon. The echo of a voice that speaks for those who cannot.”

August stared at his sister, and not for the first time he envied her. She had such purpose, such fire inside her, such a definite view of what was right. August had never felt so sure of his place in the world. Their father had been a brute, and he could not blame his mother or his sisters for jumping for joy when he’d died. Indeed, his closest male role models had been disgusting excuses for humanity, never mind anything higher minded. His friends’ fathers had been little better, and the more his mother and sisters harped on about how the male of the species was ruining the world, the more August had questioned what the devil it meant to be a man, let alone a gentleman, a label he was finding increasingly difficult to hang on to.

The trouble was, he agreed with them. Christ, he’d have run howling into the wilderness a decade ago if he didn’t. Women ought to be allowed to own property, ought to be educated, ought to be considered a man’s equal, but those kinds of opinions got a fellow blackballed, humiliated, and shunned by his peers, and August had endured quite enough of that at school, thank you very much. No, far better he leave his female relations to cause whatever havoc pleased them and marry a nice, quiet young woman. The peaceable kind who wouldn’t cry revolution if he expected her to be at home having dinner with him, instead of breaking into some influential fellow’s home to leave papers demanding education for girls upon his desk. August grew hot and then cold at the memory of how close they’d come to getting caught for that little lark.

The touch of a hand on his arm brought his attention back to his sister.

“Ah, come on, Bill. Let’s go ’ome and ’ave tea an’ cakes,” she said, in a ludicrous lower-class accent he could not believe would fool anyone. She grinned at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Fine,” he said, unable to remain cross with her for long. She was his little sister after all and he loved her, even if she was a pain in his arse and always had been. “But if there’s any jam tarts left, they’re mine. I’ve earned them.”

“Not if I get to them first,” Anna squealed, and broke into a run, holding onto her hat and tearing down the road like the hoyden she was.

“Brat!” August yelled after her and set off in pursuit.

Chapter 2

Mother, Anna, Gwen,

Just because I want you to be happy, to see both my sisters settled with someone they love, does not mean I have any intention of ‘selling them to the highest bidder’! Most young women would wish to be brought out into society, and I would be remiss in my duty as your brother if I did not offer to do so. Anna, I understand you dislike the idea of being paraded about ‘like a prize cow’ but, as I would never allow a man whom you did not love and esteem to offer for you, it would be you doing the choosing and awarding the blasted rosettes! I am hurt and offended that you believe me capable of doing anything other than wishing to see my sisters safe and happy.

I cannot endure another Christmas like this last and I do not doubt you will go on far better without me. I shall take up Bainbridge’s offer to stay with him in town for a few days before going to stay with Roxborough. I believe I will seek rooms of my own after this, so we may have a chance of coexisting peacefully in the future. I have no doubt I will hear from you if ever I become useful to your cause again.

Please give my regards to Aunt Lettice and my apologies for not bidding her goodbye in person. I quite understand her leaving the madhouse too and do not blame her in the least for relocating to Bath. I wish her a peaceful time with her cats.

I offer you my heartfelt wishes for a Happy New Year.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr August Lane-Fox to his female relations.

31st December 1840, Axton House, Piccadilly, London.

“About bloody time,” Bainbridge said, regarding August with satisfaction. “You look like a fox that’s escaped the hounds by too narrow a margin.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” August said, accepting a glass of brandy with gratitude. In truth, guilt was weighing him down, for he did not like leaving his mother and sisters alone, for fear of what they might do in his absence. They were adult women, though, and as they never tired of telling him, they did not need a man to oversee their daily lives. Well, so be it. If he hadn’t left, he might have said something he’d regret.

“You’ll stay, I hope? You need a break from those infernal females.”

August shook his head. He was already fretting about what trouble Anna might get into next if he wasn’t there to curtail her more enthusiastic insanities. At least Gwen was a little less proactive, preferring to spend her time painting… though heaven help him if those paintings ever saw the light of day. He shuddered.

“No, just a few days. I thought I’d pop down and spend a weekend with Dare, but I’d better not leave them for too long. Too terrifying to consider what I might come back to. I’m thinking of taking a small place nearby, though, to give us all a bit of breathing space.”

Bainbridge tsked his displeasure but said nothing. “Can’t you find some fellow to marry one of them? At least then they’d become his responsibility.”

August snorted. “Exactly. Do you ever see Anna putting her life in the hands of the male of the species? Not that I blame her when I look around at some of the sorry specimens on offer. I wouldn’t let them watch after livestock, let alone give them the power to order my sisters’ lives as they saw fit. Seriously, put yourself in their shoes and imagine having your every decision made by some twit like Humphrey Price.”

“I take your point, a horrifying idea. All the same, it would be amusing to see him try,” Bainbridge said dryly. “Anna would run rings about him.”

August laughed as he imagined it and then sobered abruptly as he realised it wasn’t the least bit funny.

“Well, enough of that,” Bainbridge commanded in his usual overbearing manner. “You’re not to think of them for the next two days, at the very least. We shall have some fun and drink too much and generally misbehave, as is the prerogative of any despicable male. Starting tonight. It’s the Cavendish New Year ball, you may remember. New Year, new start, and we may as well begin with a God-awful hangover. So run along and get your finery on quick smart or we’ll be late, and my lady will not be pleased, which will annoy me.”