Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

“Only because he was intent on having the last word in our argument. This morning, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Olivia stared at the tips of her slippers. “By the by, they were lilac branches, not dahlias. I though a novelist was supposed to be observant.”

“I’m interested in human nature, not plant life. And from what I observed, I wouldn’t be so sure that Lord Wrexham won’t ask you for another waltz.”

“Don’t be absurd,” muttered Olivia, trying to still the little butterfly beating its wings inside her chest. The thought of dancing with him again shouldn’t stir such flutters. The man was all but engaged.

To the Ste

el Corset, she reminded herself.

So despite his intriguing smile, his sly sense of humor, and big, warm body, Wrexham must be, at heart, a rather cold prig who preferred a life caged by convention.

“Davies is coming,” murmured Anna out of the corner of her mouth. “Will you be all right if I leave you alone?”

“Of course,” she whispered back. “I couldn’t be happier—I’ve pencil and paper to partner me through the rest of this tedious evening. I’ll find my usual spot in the shadows.” She would, however, avoid sneaking off to private rooms, no matter how intriguing the games it contained. Her run-in with Wrexham had shown that the risks of a midnight encounter with a man, however accidental, were too high.

They exchanged sisterly smiles, and then Olivia edged away from the milling couples. The one dance she had mastered was retreating from the crowd without drawing any notice. It required an intricate set of steps and just the right timing. Not too fast, not too slow…

“Miss Sloane?”

She started, and nearly tripped over her skirts.

John caught her by the elbow. “Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“No, of course not,” she replied. “I was just going to…” Loath to admit that she was going to assume her place as permanent wallflower of the beau monde, she looked around and spotted the French doors leading out to the balcony. “I was just going to get a breath of fresh air.”

He offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”

“It’s not at all necessary,” she said rather ungraciously.

“Nonetheless, it would give me great pleasure.”

She walked with him for several steps before casting a sidelong glance at his profile. “Then why, sir, do you look as if you’ve just eaten a piece of bad fish?”

“You don’t ever mince words, do you, Miss Sloane?”

“You should know the answer to that by now,” she countered. “And why should I bother? Most gentlemen can’t digest what I say, no matter how I slice things.”

He chuckled. “I have a feeling your tongue could cut a fellow into tiny pieces if he weren’t careful.”

Olivia wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Passing through the doors, she lifted her face to catch the evening breeze. The cool air felt good on her overheated skin. “I have a feeling you haven’t invited me out here to discuss cooking, sir.”

John turned and carefully folded his hands behind his back. Silhouetted in the shimmering firelight of the torchieres, his dark-clad shoulders looked even bigger than she recalled, their solid, sloping breadth accentuating the tapered waist and long, lean lines of his legs.

“A sharp guess,” he said dryly. The hint of humor didn’t quite cover his embarrassment. “I, er, wasn’t planning on coming here at all. However, I was hoping to find you in attendance, so that we might have a word about this morning.”

“Your son is a very engaging boy,” she said quietly. “I enjoyed meeting him.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your patience. And kindness. Lads of that age and, er, liveliness, can be trying.”

“On the contrary. I think spirit and exuberance ought to be encouraged in children. They should have some freedom to explore and discover the world on their own terms.”

The scudding shadows hid the earl’s expression, but Olivia heard him expel a long breath.

“I fear that Prescott may be a tad too exuberant. The tale he told you…” Another chuff of air as he shifted his stance to stare out over the garden. Pale gold glimmers of torchlight threaded through his windblown hair, softening the chiseled lines of his profile. “I was hoping…that is, I would be grateful if you would not mention it around Town.”

“I assure you, Lord Wrexham, I am not wont to gossip about people and their private lives.”

“Thank you.” His relief was palpable.