Page 47 of The Dare Before Christmas

“No!”

“A nunnery?”

“Certainly not!”

“Then I’m all out of ideas.”

“The hat!” Emmeline exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. “This is the perfect time for you to take a dare.”

Torie sent a sceptical glance. “How so?”

“Do you think you can make things any worse?” Emmeline demanded.

Torie considered this. “A fair point. Where is it?”

“Aggie gave it to me. I put it in my room. Come along, Torie, let’s do it now.”

And with that, Emmeline leapt to her feet, tucking her letter securely away in her pocket, before grasping Torie’s hand and towing her from the room.

Chapter 14

Dear Max,

I hear via the grapevine that congratulations are in order. A son, indeed. You might have told me. Have you named him in my honour? But I forget, we are not friends any longer, so you shall have to accept congratulations from – what? An enemy? Or merely someone you used to know? There’s a lowering thought. Perhaps I’d best ensure your enmity. Rather that than be forgotten.

Nonetheless, I shall raise a glass in your heir’s honour with the hope he become as fine a man as his father. Lud, I can almost hear you asking yourself if I’m foxed as I write, old boy. You’re damned predictable. Yes, as it happens. I’m foxed and bored to death, and I don’t know what to do about it.

I miss the days when neither of us gave a damn about anyone or anything. I fear I’m getting old and dull, and the thought appals me. I must do something wicked to calm my nerves before people forget they’re supposed to revile me and merely dislike me instead. Perhaps I ought to sacrifice a virgin on some pagan altar, though there’s gossip enough that says I’ve already enacted such nonsense so perhaps I’ll not bother. Virgins are too tiresome.

Speaking of, I did a good deed. No, it’s true, bear with me. I found that troublesome chit of Montagu’s loose on the town, dressed as a boy, would you believe? I know you’ll burn this letter and keep the information to yourself, but it’s too delicious not to share and there’s no one else I can tell. The temptation to cause mischief for Montagu was tantalising, but then I thought of Lady Montagu and how worried she would be. Ah, I am getting sentimental in my old age. So I returned the child to her parents, no harm done. I don’t like the way the girl looks at me. I think the idiotic creature is infatuated. Can you credit it? She had the temerity to inform me that she’s eighteen in February and will be out next year. I believe I repressed the shudder that ran down my spine, but it was a near thing. I dropped her at her parent’s door and fled.

Well, this won’t do, I have debauchery to indulge in or else my despicable reputation will fade, and the ton will forget to talk about how scandalous and depraved I am. Be happy, Max. One of us ought to try it.

―Excerpt of a letter to The Right Hon’ble Maxwell Drake, The Earl of Vane, from The Most Hon’ble Ciarán St Just, The Marquess of Kilbane.

19th December 1844, Heart’s Folly, East Sussex.

Torie and Emmeline stood, staring down into the hatbox that contained the dog-eared top hat that had belonged to their mothers. They shared an uncertain glance and then both leapt a foot in the air at the sound of a sharp rap on the door.

“Oh, my word. I swear my nerves are all on end today,” Torie said as Emmeline hurried to see who it was.

“Hardly surprising,” Emmeline replied with a grin, before opening the door. “Cat!”

“Em!”

“I found her on the doorstep,” Aggie said from beside the girl, grinning as Cat burst into the room like the force of nature she was. She hugged Emmeline before running to hug Torie, too.

“I’m free!” she exclaimed, laughing and jumping on the bed with a flurry of skirts. “You cannot know how wonderful it is to be allowed out of the house after so long and… Oh! The hat!”

She picked it up, taking it out of the box before anyone had time to blink, let alone say anything.

“Now you’ve done it,” Aggie said, shaking her head. “Cat, you might let them take a breath, you know.”

“Are you taking your dares? Now?” Cat demanded, her silver-grey eyes, so like her father’s, glittering with delight. “What marvellous timing. Who’s first?”

Torie laughed and shook her head. “Well, I’m in the most trouble, so I suppose it had better be me.”

“Trouble? What trouble?” Aggie and Cat chorused in unison.