Page 35 of Just a Little Daring

August nodded, smiling for her sake, though she knew he was still furious. She looked around, relieved to see Evie speaking earnestly to Ash, her hand on his sleeve. Evie would know what to say to diffuse her brother’s temper. Turning her attention to Aisling, she found her friend looking utterly wretched.

“That was all my fault,” she whispered, looking close to tears.

Viv opened her mouth to contradict her, but Sylvester beat her to it.

“It certainly was not. It was my fault for vexing you into throwing things at me perhaps, but that lamentable excuse for a man was a prick before the bread roll landed in his soup and he’ll be a prick until the day he dies. That is not in the least your fault.”

This rather inelegant speech had the strangest effect on Aisling, whose lips quirked up at the corners. “You have quite a way with words, Mr Cootes.”

“I’m charming and intelligent. I told you that before. You have the most lamentable memory, my lady,” he said with a world-weary sigh, though his expression was alight with amusement.

“You’re insufferable,” Aisling corrected, though the harsh tone was absent from her words now. “But you do, occasionally, have good instincts and act well. Thank you for what you did, for taking the blame for me and… and standing up to that horrid man.”

Sylvester’s eyes grew wide, and he pressed his palm to his chest, covering his heart. “Good heavens, Lady Aisling. Do you mean to say I have done something you approve of? Again? That’s twice you’ve approved of me. I may swoon.”

“Oh, I knew I was going to regret that,” Aisling said with a sigh. “And no, Mr Cootes, this is not the beginning of a beautiful friendship. You are still the most vexing man that ever lived.”

“Thank you,” Sylvester said, beaming at her like she’d offered him the most profound compliment. “Not simply a vexing fellow, but the most vexing fellow that ever lived. I knew I bothered you, Lady Aisling. I just knew it.”

“Lord, grant me patience,” Aisling muttered, and rolled her eyes to the heavens.

Chapter 12

Monsieur,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I wanted to let you know Mama has swept us all up and taken us to Brighton. It was all done at the last moment, and I did not have the time to warn you of our departure.

The sun is glorious, like April and May have been pushed aside in favour of June. The sea glitters, almost as blue as your eyes, and the sunshine is a wonderful boost to one's spirits after such a tiresome winter of grey skies and drizzle.

Half the world is here, it seems, and I have already met the Anson twins, Mr August Lane-Fox and Mr Sylvester Cootes. Mr Hadley Smythe and Mr Price were strolling on the promenade this morning, and I also bumped into Mr Barnaby Godwin. He asked if I had seen you and seemed most disappointed that you were still in town.

Must you remain in London? There are many amusements to be found here at present.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) to Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen.

11th April 1841, The Sea Front. Brighton.

He ought not to have done it, August reflected with a sigh. Asking Vivien and her friends to accompany him and Sylvester on a walk along the seafront was an exercise in futility and heartache, but he’d never been any good at resisting temptation. The result was the embodiment of allurement walking with her hand on his arm.

Vivien wore a delicious white gown that accentuated her lush curves. It was trimmed with lace and oddly charming little puffs of pink ribbon. Her hat was also white, a mad extravaganza of flowers and ribbons on one side. She looked edible, and there was a dull ache of resentment in his chest that he could not shake. He was still simmering from the scene in the dining room yesterday, an event that ought to have confirmed his instincts to stay away from her were sound. All it had done was make him want to take on the bloody world and change it one fight at a time, if that’s what was required. Of course, the rational part of his brain—the part that wasn’t ninety-five percent caveman—knew that was not the answer. Sadly, he did not know what was.

“Stop fulminating.”

August looked around at Vivien in surprise. “I never said a word,” he objected.

“I can hear you ranting in your head,” she said gently, smiling at him.

He gave a huff of laughter. “That obvious, am I?”

“To me, yes,” she said, her grip on his sleeve tightening a little.

Words burned on his tongue. Words he knew he ought not say.

I miss you. I want you. I am wretched without you.

“It’s a glorious day.”