Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

Her silence seemed a signal to continue.

“First of all, I have absolutely no interest in discussing the weather. Second of all, I have no preconceived prejudices about the powers of the female mind.” He paused. “But then again, after your display of haughty high-mindedness, perhaps I ought to reconsider.”

A momentary flare of outrage lit in her eyes. She scowled—and then curled a wry smile. “Touché, sir. Most gentlemen aren’t willing to listen to a lady’s opinion.”

“Most ladies aren’t willing to offer one.”

“Can’t you blame us?” asked Olivia. “Society doesn’t exactly encourage creative thinking in the fairer sex. We are meant to be seen and not heard.”

“Um, yes, well, I…” John flushed, realizing that his gaze had slid down to her bodice. Beneath the overblown ruffles, it appeared that she had a shapely swell of bosom. “I—I also wanted to apologize for trampling on your toes.”

Her laugh, like her voice, was very intriguing. Low, lush, and a little rough around the edges, it reminded him of an evening breeze ruffling through shadowed leaves.

“Good heavens, don’t look so stricken, sir,” she said. “The fault was all mine, I’m afraid. I can never seem to keep the dance steps straight.” Another laugh. “What a pity we can’t just ignore the rigid patterns and simply follow the rhythm of the music.”

“Like wild savages, dancing around a bonfire to the sound of a beating drum?” he said slowly.

“Haven’t you ever lifted your face to moonlight and spun in circles to the dusky song of the nightingales and—” Olivia shook her head. “No, of course not. What a ridiculous question to ask.” The errant curl had come loose again and was inching close to her nose.

“Your hair, Miss Sloane,” he murmured.

“Has decided to dance to its own tune tonight,” she said tartly, brushing it back with impatient fingers. “As you see, I seem to have no control over my body’s primitive urges.”

John almost let loose a very unlordly chortle. But quickly recalling his glittering surroundings, he managed to smother it in a cough. A peer of the realm did not chortle in public.

“Perhaps…” A dangerous glint lit in her eyes. “Perhaps I should give in to impulse, strip off my clothing, and waltz naked across the dance floor.”

He tried not to picture her lithe body without a stitch on. Discipline, discipline. A gentleman must be ruled by reason, not primal urges.

Clearing his mind with another cough, he quickly changed the subject. “Just what sort of social essay were you reading, Miss Sloane?”

Her mouth quirked. “Horatio Edderley’s most recent work on how a country should care for its disabled veterans.”

Veterans! His brows shot up in surprise. There seemed to be no end of unexpected statements from Olivia. Why, that was exactly the social issue that he had decided to focus on.

“And what did you think of it?” he inquired.

“Well, I cannot agree with all his points,” she began. “Hingham’s ideas are much more in line with my own thinking. I am very much looking forward to reading his new essays.”

“Hingham’s new essays are not yet available in England,” pointed out John.

“Actually, they are. Hatchards has one copy on order, and it’s scheduled to arrive tomorrow.”

“By Jove, I mean to purchase it,” he said, mo

re to himself than her.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Lord Wrexham. It’s reserved,” said Olivia. “For me.”

“But—”

“Ah, there you are, John! Why are you skulking behind the flowers?” Cecilia rounded the massive display of lilacs and ivy at a fast clip.

“I am not skulking,” he replied with a scowl. “I am conversing with Miss Sloane.”

“In a manner of speaking,” murmured Olivia. “In truth, I think I am shocking His Lordship.”

Cecilia regarded them both thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Good! He needs to have his cage rattled, so to speak.”