“Of course you do,” he replied in a dry tone of voice. Was he laughing at her?
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked. She might as well say aloud what she was thinking. It wasn’t as though she had to be the polite young lady around him. She was only with him to fulfill her part of the bargain, not to endear herself to him.
It felt wonderful, if she were being honest with herself. To be honest aloud, unlike the usual softening of tone and opinion she had to force herself into when out in company.
Although she didn’t always succeed there, as past encounters showed.
“I think I am,” he replied in a surprised tone. “I haven’t had much cause to laugh lately, so thank you.”
She sat down in the chair closest to her, and gestured for him to take the one opposite. “It’s been that bad, has it?” She felt her chest start to burn with her righteous anger.
He sat down, crossing his long legs, momentarily distracting her with wondering just how long they were.
“It’s not what you think,” he replied, his voice soft. “It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. It’s something else.” His mouth tightened into a thin line. “It’s something I don’t feel like discussing.”
“Oh.” Olivia bit her lip to keep from peppering him with questions, questions he already said he did not wish to answer. But that was the unfortunate thing about her, she already knew; once there was a mystery to be uncovered, or a wrong to be righted, she wouldn’t rest—or stop asking questions—until she solved it.
But if he refused to speak with her because she had pressed him too hard, she would never have the satisfaction of seeing him received in Society, nor would he donate a thousand pounds.
Nor would he be happily married.
Nor would she be happily married. That was the most important reason of all.
Although that thought didn’t please her as much as it should have. This was all for her eventual marriage to Lord Carson. That was why she was doing it, she reminded herself.
“Your list,” he said, stretching his hand out. “Can I see it?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, holding it out for him to take. His fingers brushed hers during the exchange, and she felt a shiver run through her.
He unfolded the paper and smoothed it out so he could read it. She watched, fascinated by the firm gesture. His fingers were long and thick, not the gentleman’s hands she was accustomed to seeing. His nails were clean, but cut short, likely to be able to write more efficiently. She spotted a dot of ink on his ring finger and smiled to herself.
“A list of potential brides?” he said after a moment, lifting his gaze to hers. “Do you know if they meet my standards? Even though my standards are, as you said, quite limited.” He looked back down, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “I have been introduced to a few of these ladies already, and I highly doubt if they would wish to be on this list.” He looked back up, a rueful smile on his mouth. “And the ones who have not been openly rude are likely just biding their time until they can be.”
Olivia felt her cheeks heat. In embarrassment over her fellow Society ladies’ despicable behavior, or in having presented the list in the first place, she didn’t know. She snatched the paper back from him and crumpled it up in a ball in her hand.
“You have to be open-minded about this,” she said, the words spilling out in a rush. “It is not as easy as just selecting an item from a menu.”
“But it’s your menu,” he shot back. “Wasn’t that why you came over with this list? To see which lady piqued my interest, even though marriage is not a matter of choosing a name and proceeding?”
“Oh, and what do you know about marriage?” she replied, clapping her hand over her mouth as she realized what she’d said.
His lips curled into a smile devoid of humor. “Exactly. I know nothing of marriage, not having witnessed one in my own life.”
Oh no. She’d done it again. Spoken without considering whom she was talking to, a man who’d grown up keenly aware of the stigma of his birth.
She released her hand from her mouth and took a deep breath. “I apologize, Mr. Wolcott. That was—”
“Thoughtless? But also expected?” His voice held a bitter tone that felt as though it was actually stinging her.
“Both,” she said quietly. Her cheeks were hot, flushed with embarrassment. And then her whole body followed suit, making it feel as though she were standing next to a hot oven.
“The thing is,” she said, licking her lips, which felt suddenly dry, “that you will never be able to find a suitable wife if you believe every single female you meet is likely to reject you.”
He raised a brow. “Is that your strategy? Believing anyone you decide upon will wish to have you?”
The words stung. Was it because they were true? She couldn’t think about that now. She would not think about that now.
“We’re not discussing my situation, Mr. Wolcott.” She glanced at the clock in the corner, noting it had already been fifteen minutes. “We don’t have much more time before Ida returns, and we should have a plan in place to accomplish your goal.”
“Your goal,” he corrected. “Being properly received in Society is your goal, not mine. I have no hopes of it.”
“But you do wish to be married,” she retorted. “And in order to find someone, you’ll need to overcome the hurdle of your birth.”
“Thank you for acknowledging it is a hurdle. Most ladies don’t even mention it. They just sniff and look anywhere but at me.”
“Goodness, why wouldn’t they want to know you? I mean, just look at you!” Of course she spoke without thinking. But then again, it gave her the excuse to just look at him herself.
So tall and handsome and wildly, virilely attractive. That hair of his curling everywhere, as untamed as he seemed to be. And yet he spoke and acted politely, far more assured than many of the young lords she had met in Society. It was just that his politeness seemed to encase someone else entirely different, an outsized man whose passion and intensity might scorch her if she got too close.
She was not going to allow herself to get too close.
Was she?
“You do have a point.” He spoke reluctantly, and Olivia tried not to be smugly pleased he had agreed with her. More people should do that in general; it would make her life so much easier. “So what is your suggestion? Beyond making a list of ladies who would be horrified if I came courting?”
Olivia folded her hands in her lap. “I suppose I will have to rethink my tactics.”
He nodded at her to continue.
“I will ask if there are families in particularly desperate financial straits, as you suggested earlier. And to those families, we will need to show your good points. To prove that you should be viewed in the same light as any other young gentleman.” She couldn’t help but look at him again; it felt as though her eyes were drawn to him in a way they had never wanted to look at anything before. Not even Bennett, with whom she was madly in love.
“You and I will appear in company together. I will introduce you to the people I know, and they will come to know you as well.”
“Bennett has tried that, you know,” he said drily. “How will you succeed where he has not?”
“Well,” she said in a prim voice, “Lord Carson is capable in so many ways, but he is not a lady. He doesn’t know what ladies find intriguing about gentlemen.” He kept his gaze steady on her, making her wish she wasn’t too old to squirm in her seat under the scrutiny.
“Because he’s not a lady,” she repeated, and then his expression relaxed, and it looked almost as though he wanted to laugh.
Chapter 7
In order to achieve great accomplishments, it is important to be greatly confident.
Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Decorum
“Edward!”
Edward started as he heard his father’s voice. He’d been so engrossed in debating with Lady Olivia, he’d forgotten for a few moments about his fa
ther. It shouldn’t make him feel guilty—his father wouldn’t want that—but it did.
But she had thoroughly perplexed him and irked him and fascinated him. And she had made him laugh—when was the last time that had happened?
She and her silly list and her confident assertion that she could succeed where others had failed. He wondered whether Queen Victoria herself would be as regal as Lady Olivia.
He had to admire that, and he had to admire her. Even if he knew that the two of them would likely be at loggerheads during this entire month.
At the end of which he would not have a bride, nor would he be any more accepted into her world, despite what she thought.
But it would keep his father content, and that was more important than his feeling that his efforts were futile. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered except that Mr. Beechcroft’s wishes—Edward didn’t want to say final wishes—were honored.
And he would also be able to spend time with the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.
He would donate the thousand pounds to whatever cause she wished, no matter what happened; it was only money, he had plenty of it, and he knew whatever cause she championed was likely to be one that helped people less fortunate than she. Which was, barring the queen, everybody.
What must it be like to be the beloved child of a duke? To be accepted wherever she went, treated as though her opinions and presence were always welcome?
“Edward.” His father spoke more strongly now, jarring Edward entirely out of his baffling thoughts. Thank goodness.
His father had walked into the room, accompanied by Lady Ida, both of them looking companionable with one another.
“You did not mention we had visitors,” his father said, turning his warm smile to Lady Olivia. “And then I was in the library, and scared Lady Ida here.”
“I was not scared,” Lady Ida interrupted. “Merely startled.”
His father rolled his eyes at her, then chucked her under the chin. An action that seemed to startle Lady Ida even more. And again, Edward felt like laughing.
“And then we got to talking, and it seems Lady Ida has interests in some of the same things I have.”
“Even though some of his opinions are woefully behind the times,” Lady Ida said, but in an amused tone, not as though she were judging.
“So I asked her why she was here in the first place, and she told me her sister was visiting my son. You are Lady Olivia, I presume?”
His father strode up to her, holding his hand out for her to take.
She blinked, then allowed him to enfold her hand in his, offering him a curtsey as she did. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Beechcroft,” she said in a soft tone. Far softer than how she’d spoken to him, Edward noticed.
“Well, I knew we should not interrupt, but then Lady Ida said she had allowed you thirty minutes to discuss whatever it is you are discussing, which is . . . ?” And he trailed off, looking expectantly between Edward and Lady Olivia.
Judging by his expression, it was clear what Mr. Beechcroft thought they were discussing. Edward wanted to tell his father he was entirely and absolutely wrong about that—that Lady Olivia would never deign to even consider him as a suitor—but to mention it would be to hurt his father far more than allowing him to believe the lie would.
“We cannot share that, sir,” Lady Olivia said. “It is a secret until it is not.”
Now it was Lady Ida’s turn to roll her eyes. “Being the very definition of secret, after all.”
Lady Olivia dismissed her sister’s words with a wave of her hand. “Never mind that.” She looked at Edward. “So as we discussed, are you free to take me and my sister out for a carriage ride tomorrow?”
He wanted to laugh at the sheer brazenness of her. Of her assuming he would fall in with her plans just because she wished him to. Although that was what he was going to do, wasn’t it? It was far too amusing, and he liked looking at her too much, to deny himself the pleasure.
“I am not going on a carriage ride,” Lady Ida said.
“I meant Pearl, not you. I know you won’t do anything that isn’t sticking your nose in a book.”
“Which means you could return here tomorrow,” Mr. Beechcroft said in a delighted tone. “I want to ask your opinion of some books I’ve been thinking of rebinding. Whether they are worth the expense.”
Lady Ida smiled a smile of genuine pleasure, and Edward felt his mouth start to gape at how it changed her. She was beautiful, although he wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her. No doubt she thought that type of frivolity was beneath her.
“I would love to.”
“Well, that is settled then,” Lady Olivia said in satisfaction. “We will all come over here. Ida can stay while you take us out in your carriage. You do have a carriage, don’t you?”
“Of course we do,” Edward’s father replied. “We might have a few of them, actually. So you can decide which would be best to go out in.”
“That will be wonderful, but I will leave the choosing of the carriage up to Mr. Wolcott.” Lady Olivia’s expression as she looked at Edward appeared to indicate she had done him a great favor in allowing him to choose which carriage to use.
She really was the most managing female he’d ever encountered. And yet, somehow, he found it oddly endearing.
“Good afternoon, sir, Mr. Wolcott,” Lady Olivia said as she marched toward the door, sweeping her sister up with her as she left the room.
Mr. Beechcroft walked after them, but not before turning around with a broad grin for Edward, accompanying his smile with a wink, just in case Edward wasn’t clear enough about what his father thought was actually happening.
But if the ruse would keep his father content for a bit, he would continue it. And he would get to spend more time with the thoroughly sure of herself Lady Olivia.
Mr. Beechcroft reentered the room, rubbing his hands together and looking exceptionally pleased.
“Well, my boy, you have already begun to indulge your father’s last wish.”
Edward winced at his father’s words, although the tone in which they were spoken was nearly giddy with glee.
“I have just met Lady Olivia.” He turned away from his father, not able to look him in the eye and prevaricate, much less lie to his face. He’d just have to . . . lie by omission. “Bennett introduced us”—in a manner of speaking, if you count being awkwardly in the room while the lady proposed to my friend an introduction—“and she donates her time to various causes”—including mine—“so I wanted to ask her what effort was in the most need.”
And the answer to that was me, and my effort to find a place in this world that isn’t tainted with disdain. Oh, and find a wife while I’m at it.
“Very clever, my lad.” Edward heard the chair groan as his father sat. “Ladies have soft hearts, and if they think that a gentleman shares their concern—well, that is a good way to get them interested in you.”
“Yes.” Edward wished his father wasn’t so optimistic about nearly everything—about Edward’s place in the world, how people viewed both of them, that young titled ladies would even wish to be married to a bastard. It would make it so much easier to explain the truth when it came time for the truth to be explained.
“Maybe I won’t die after all,” his father continued, still in that same gleeful tone. “I want to be around to see what your children look like. I wonder if they will get your dark hair? Or take after their mother?”
“You are getting ahead of yourself, Father.” Edward turned back around and sat in the chair opposite his father. This, at least, he could say without letting his father know all of his assumptions were false.
“The lady and I have just met, as I said, and you would not want me to take the first offer on the table, would you? It is not good business after all.”
His father grinned, then laughed aloud. “You are my son, that is for certain. Viewing things in such a business-like fashion, even though this is the business of the heart we are concerne
d with now.”
Business of the heart. If only it were just a business and Edward could select what item he wished to own and then pay a certain sum of money to make the transaction.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Instead, he’d have to go on carriage rides and speak with people who disliked him on principle and pretend that it wasn’t ripping him apart inside that his father was dying.
He and Mr. Beechcroft both turned at the sound of footsteps outside in the entryway. The door flung open, and Lady Olivia stepped inside, a few strands of hair coming out from under her bonnet, which was a ridiculous concoction that made Edward wonder if it was deliberate on the part of the hatmaker to have it look like that.
“I forgot to mention that you would be receiving an invitation to dine with us later this week. Lord Carson and the marquis are coming, and it will be a small gathering. And of course you too, Mr. Beechcroft,” she added, even though Edward was fairly certain his father would not have been invited if he hadn’t been in the room at the time.
“Excellent, we will happily accept, won’t we, Edward?” his father said, rubbing his hands together again in what Edward knew was delight.
“Of course,” he replied, bowing toward Lady Olivia.
“Good. I will let my mother know.” And then she walked back out of the room, making it feel as though a light had been extinguished when she left.
“And I should go as well.” Edward’s father walked to the door, still smiling. “The duke and I have met, have done business together, but I have not yet been invited to his home. I have you to thank for that. And Lady Olivia, of course.” His smile turned into a grin.
If it made him this happy—well, he’d pretend to court Lady Olivia as much as was necessary. And that way she could work on her own plan. And he would just be happy to watch as she tried to do the impossible.
“He actually agreed to your plan?”
Olivia scowled at the skepticism in her sister’s voice.
“He did.” Even though he also expressed probably even more skepticism than what Pearl was showing when he questioned her.
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