Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

Lady Trumbull hesitated, and then nodded sagely. “Quite right, my dear, quite right. A firm hand on housekeeping is very important. Men appreciate such attention to the tiny details.”

“Olivia has also been giving some very helpful hints on how to make the flame burn brighter,” piped up Caro.

Olivia made a warning face. Her youngest sister had a tendency to allow exuberant emotion to overrule common sense. And while it was laudable quality for a poet to have, it often landed her in trouble at home.

Their mother gave an audible sniff, as if scenting that something was amiss. But as Anna flashed her most innocent smile, she seemed mollified. “Listen to your sister, and mayhap the two of you will learn enough to attract your share of highborn suitors.” Wagging a finger, she added, “Do remember that we are attending Mrs. Shelborne’s musical recital tonight, Anna. Lord Chittenden is very fond of the pianoforte and is sure to be there.”

“Yes Mama,” responded Anna.

“Olivia, you need not come tonight,” went on Lady Trumbull. “It’s an informal gathering, so protocol does not require your presence. And seeing as you make no effort to engage an eligible gentleman, it is not as if anyone will notice your absence.”

Such comments had long since lost their sting. But Olivia saw Anna’s nostrils flare in anger.

“Actually, Mama, Olivia has been attracting her share of notice these days. The Earl of Wrexham has been particularly interested in discussing politics with her.”

Their mother turned so fast that she nearly snagged a slipper in the carpet fringe. “Wrexham! Well, I declare…” Raising her quizzing glass, she peered in surprise at her eldest daughter.

As if she were a botanist who had just stumbled upon some new and exotic species of mushroom, thought Olivia wryly.

“An earl,” exclaimed Lady Trumbull. “And a very rich earl at that. Oh, you sly puss—”

“Anna is joking, Mama,” said Olivia quickly. “Lord Wrexham has no real interest in me. He simply wished to borrow a book.”

“Borrow a book? How very odd.”

“Yes, very odd,” she echoed. Just like me.

Lady Trumbull narrowed her gaze, unsure if she was being teased, but after a blink she let the comment pass.

Turning back to Anna, she said, “Be sure to take a nap this afternoon, my dear. It wouldn’t do for you to have puffy eyes. Oh, and do be sure to wear your seafoam green gown. I have heard that Chittenden is an avid sailor.”

“Perhaps,” murmured Olivia, after the door had fallen shut, “if we put a bridle on you, we could take you to Tattersall’s and sell you to the highest bidder at the next auction of brood mares.”

Caro gave a snort.

“And much as I appreciate your support, you need not bother trying to temper Mama’s cutting comments. To her I’m a hopeless hellion, who will only end up being a burden to her old age.”

“If you would but try to—” began Anna.

Olivia was quick to cut her off. “You know very well that I have not your skill at appearing amiable.”

“To hone a skill, one must be willing to practice.”

“True.” Caro propped her elbows on the work table. “It’s rather like writing, I suppose. One really must work at it to be any good.”

“Thank you for the lecture.” Olivia tried not to sound too shrill. “However, I simply cannot round off the edges of my rough-cut opinions. It is a weakness, I know, but so be it.”

“We all have our strengths and weaknesses,” said Anna softly. “Some are more hidden than others. Perhaps you will surprise yourself.”

A cryptic statement, but Olivia was in no frame of mind to puzzle out its meaning. “I’ve had enough surprises for one morning,” she muttered. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I shall retire to my bedchamber and finish reading Hingham’s essays so that Wrexham may take the dratted book.

The Beacon. John pursed his lips as he turned the corner onto Piccadilly Street. The Beacon was a lady. The idea was still a little dizzying…

And so was the faint trace of Olivia’s sweetness on his mouth.

Lord Almighty, did I really behave like a randy, ravenous wild beast? Closing his eyes for an instant, he recalled possessing her in a hard, hungry kiss. It was utterly unforgivable.

And utterly unforgettable.