Page 6 of Just a Little Daring

“Yes, well, that’s the trouble, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to be blunt, but… you are not what I’m looking for.”

Viv blinked, jolted from her inappropriate musings by his rather too candid admission.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, to mask the uncertainty crashing about in her chest. Viv provoked two standard reactions from unmarried men who were not friends or relations: desire for her because she was beautiful and rich, or disapproval of her mixed heritage. In her experience, those were the only options. Mr Lane-Fox had just opened a new category, and she did not know what to call it.

“Someone rather more biddable and… ordinary. Quiet,” he admitted, looking somewhat sheepish about it, as well he might.

“Perhaps you should get a cat?” she suggested tartly.

A tinge of colour crested his cheekbones. “You asked me to be honest, Miss Anson. I am doing my best.”

“Then you ought to practise deception. It might make you better company.” Viv pressed her lips together and took a moment to calm her temper. “I beg your pardon, Mr Lane-Fox. That was uncalled for.”

He sighed and shook his head. “No, I don’t blame you in the least. I know how it sounds and, to a spirited woman like yourself, I can well imagine your desire to bludgeon me with the nearest heavy object.”

“It is a temptation I am striving to resist,” Viv replied with a tight smile.

“I know that, but I beg you put my dilemma in context before you condemn me outright.”

“What context is that? A weak mind? Or is it a weak spine?”

His expression darkened a degree and Viv sensed he would not take much more if she continued to insult him. She closed her mouth and gestured for him to continue.

“I cannot explain the problem in detail, Miss Anson, but suffice to say my mother and two sisters are spirited females with prodigious intellects, a great many opinions on how the world ought to be, and a burning desire to take action, not just talk about it over tea. I adore them, I admire them, and I want to be as far away from them as I can get most of the time. I just want a bit of peace and quiet instead of being dragged into their daily dramas, and marrying a woman with as much spirit, verve, and intellect as they have does not bode well for my remaining shred of sanity.”

Vivien gaped at him, admittedly a little taken aback. “They sound fascinating.”

“They are fascinating,” he said fiercely. “They’re marvellous. They’re also exhausting, and I waver constantly between pride and mortification at the things they get up to. They’ll destroy my reputation entirely one of these days, though by then I won’t care because my reason will be a distant memory, and yet I wouldn’t have them any other way. I just don’t want to live with them.”

“How do they think the world ought to be?” Viv could not help asking. The dance was ending, much to her regret, and she hoped he would not run away before the end of this fascinating conversation.

Mr Lane-Fox offered his arm and led her from the dance floor, his expression one of resignation, though his voice was still warm and friendly. “They believe girls and boys should receive the same level of education, that the female brain is as capable as any man’s. They believe men and women are equal and ought to be treated the same way, with women allowed to own property, and have autonomy over their own bodies, and their children.”

Viv watched him, captivated, as he calmly expressed her every frustration and belief in a few short sentences. “And you, Mr Lane-Fox,” she said, feeling suddenly breathless at the possibility. “Do you believe they are correct?”

“Damnation,” he muttered crossly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just knew you were going to ask me that.”

Viv clutched at his sleeve, staring up at him, wanting to believe it was possible. “And so…?”

Mr Lane-Fox made a terse sound of frustration and disengaged her hand from his sleeve. “Yes, Miss Anson, I believe they are quite correct, God help me, but that does not mean I am prepared to turn the entire world upside down to change it for them, or for you. I pray you will forgive me for it. I’m certain I must be a dreadful disappointment to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must go and see… someone.”

He bowed and left her, clearly eager to escape her company. Viv watched him go, and knew it was not disappointment she felt, but hope.

Chapter 3

Ashburton, you dog,

Don’t think for a moment I swallowed that guff about a previous engagement any more than your Pa did. You’ve ensnared that gorgeous opera dancer. haven’t you? And you knew dashed well I had my eye on her. All’s well in love and war, I dare say, but I shall pay you back, Pip, old fellow. You see if I don’t.

Well, you may have a Happy New Year’s eve with your pretty mistress, but I comfort myself with the thought of you facing your father when he figures out where you spent the coming evening instead of the Cavendish ball. Ah, I should like to be a fly on the wall for that confrontation. Shirking responsibilities is one of those things fathers do get dreadfully het up about. I know mine does, and I can only imagine Montagu’s reaction. Quite makes my blood run cold. Do remember to leave me that fine gelding you bought last week when you make out your last will and testament. It’s been nice knowing you.

――Excerpt of a letter from The Most Hon’ble Jules Adolphus, Marquess of Blackstone (Eldest son of Prunella and Robert Adolphus, Duke and Duchess of Bedwin) to his friend, The Right Hon’ble Philip Barrington, Earl of Ashburton (Eldest son of Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu).

31st December 1840, Cavendish House, The Strand, London.

“Oh, I say, I beg your pardon!”

Louis César bit back an oath as a man careened into him, nearly knocking the glass from his hand. By some miracle, he avoided being drowned in champagne and only spilled a little over his fingers.