Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

“It is Miss Sloane, not Miss Olivia, as she is the eldest,” clucked her mother. “I pray you don’t make such a buffle-headed mistake in front of a peer of the realm, Freddie. He might think that we don’t belong.”

Olivia gave the young man a sympathetic smile. “Thank you, Freddie.” She began rummaging among the piles of notes and newspapers on her desk. “I shall be there shortly.”

Lady Trumbull’s horrified response rose above the crackling of paper. “Oh, you must not keep the earl waiting.”

“I told you, Mama, he has simply come to borrow a book, not to enjoy the pleasure of my company.”

“Men are odd creatures, child,” lectured her mother. “One never knows what may catch their fancy. And a widower may not be so choosy. You could at least make an effort to flirt with him.”

And donkeys might turn into unicorns.

“I doubt Lord Wrexham and I would suit.”

“Hmmph. You never know until you try.”

For all her grousing, her mother did on occasion make an astute observation, mused Olivia as she finally located her copy of Hingham’s essays under a copy of the Morning Gazette. “That is, for the most part, very true, Mama.” Leaving Lady Trumbull looking a little perplexed, she gathered up the book, along with another that she thought the earl might find of interest, and quickly left the room.

Chapter Fifteen

John turned from his study of the curio cabinet on hearing the drawing room door open and close.

“Your father collected an unusually intriguing variety of artifacts, Miss Sloane. He must have been a very interesting man.”

Olivia ignored the observation. “I thought you were going to send a servant for the book, sir,” said she, without preamble.

“It is very nice to see you, too,” he murmured.

A flush rose up to ridge her cheekbones. “Please don’t say I didn’t warn you. My mother has now decided that a widower may not be as choosy as a tulip of the ton. So you may find yourself considered fair game for all her machinations.”

He smiled. “As I’ve said, I’ve faced far more formidable adversaries than your mother. I shall survive.”

Her expression turned a bit pinched. “Speaking of surviving, Lord Wrexham, Lord Davenport approached me and my sisters while we were having ices at Gunther’s earlier today and asked me pass on a message to you. He overheard some talk at whatever haunt he was visiting last night, and said that you appear to have made some very nasty enemies. So you should take care to be on guard.”

“That’s surprising,” mused John.

“Yes, I was surprised, too,” said Olivia. “You don’t strike me as a man who stirs up strong passions.”

He wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or nettled. “What I meant was, I’m surprised Davenport bothered to mention it. From what I gather, he isn’t known for his altruism.”

“There is that as well,” she agreed. “He claims that he spotted us inside the tea shop and stopped on a whim because he had seen the two of us dancing together.” A pause. “I assured him that it was only because your sister forced you to ask me.”

“You seem to have an exceedingly low opinion of my backbone, Miss Sloane.”

“I—I did not mean…that is, I—I wasn’t intending…”

Her eyes turned an interesting shade of molten green when she was flustered—a fiery jade, shaded with a hint of smoke. Intrigued, John watched the swirl of hues spark beneath her lashes.

“Forgive me,” she finished in a rush. Shifting the books in her arms, she held out one of them. “Here is the Hingham, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“And this”—a smaller volume thumped atop the leatherbound Hingham—“is a collection of essays from America on the inalienable rights of its citizens that I thought you might also want to read.”

“I appreciate both of these,” he said. “But as you said, I could have sent a servant for books. I’ve come for you.”

The flustered look was back. “I—I don’t understand.”

“I thought we might go for a drive in the park. It’s the fashionable hour for promenading, so we won’t attract any undo attention.”