Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

She stared as if he were speaking in Hindi.

“You know—horses,” he murmured, sketching an outline of said animal in the air. “A carriage, two people sitting on the seat.”

“I may be a bit of a recluse, sir, but I am familiar with what the everyday conveyances of London look like.”

But not, apparently, with the experience of actually riding in one, observed John to himself.

“Excellent. Then I’m sure you also know to bring a shawl, for the breeze can turn a bit chilly at this time of day.”

“I—I did not say that I would come, sir,” began Olivia.

“Miss Sloane…” He moved a step closer to her and lowered his voice a notch. “I thought we might discuss some of basic issues embodied in the proposed bill, and how best to address them. And it seems that we would have more privacy for such a chat outdoors.”

Her eyes narrowed at the word “outdoors.”

Casting a meaningful look at the closed door, John added, “First of all, I imagine that your mother has summoned your sister to come serve as a chaperone. And secondly, I would be willing to wager that her ear is already glued to the keyhole.”

Olivia’s wary expression slowly relaxed, allowing the corners of her mouth to curl upward. “You are no doubt correct on both counts, sir.”

She has a very nice smile, he decided.

“May I take that as a yes?”

Her lashes fluttered, the shadows not quite hiding the hesitation in her eyes. “I suppose so.” She drew in a breath. “Just as long as we are clear that it is purely a professional meeting.”

“But of course,” replied John. “We made an agreement, Miss Sloane. You need not worry that I am going to ravish you in the middle of Polite Society’s daily parade ritual.”

“I should hope not, Lord Wrexham,” replied Olivia tartly. “The lovely young lady you had hanging on your arm this morning—I assume she is the Steel Corset—would not be amused.”

John had to think for a moment—and then let out a low laugh. “The lovely young lady hanging on my arm this morning was my niece, who has been in Town to visit her mother, my sister. We were enjoying a last carriage ride together, as her father is escorting her back to her home in Norfolk tomorrow.”

The color ridging her cheekbones now spread to the rest of her face. “Perhaps you ought to choose someone else to assist you with parsing complex intellectual concepts, sir.”

A frown pinched off his smile. “Why

is that?”

“Because my wits don’t appear to be functioning very well of late,” replied Olivia.

“Given my son’s flair for drama, it is completely understandable that you might assume…the worst. However, Lady Serena Wells—which, by the by, is her proper name—is not here in London. She is visiting her relatives in Shropshire.”

“I am sure she is very pleasant,” said Olivia stiffly. “No doubt Prescott will come to appreciate that in the near future.”

“The chances would be better if that cursed Lady Loose Screw would stop writing him and…making him laugh.”

“You don’t wish your son to laugh?” she asked slowly.

John wasn’t quite sure how the conversation had managed to take such an uncomfortable twist. With his own thoughts on the future so muddled, the last thing he wished to discuss with Olivia was his maybe—or maybe not—engagement.

“Well, yes, of course I do,” he replied. “But Lady Serena believes that a parent must keep a certain distance and detachment, in order to remain a figure of authority.”

“Oh, quite right,” murmured Olivia softly—but not softly enough to hide the edge of irony. “Mustn’t relax that firm hand of discipline. You know the old adage—spare the rod, spoil the child.”

Hell and damnation.

He had the distinct feeling she was making fun of him, and it bothered him more than it should.

“I take it you have your own opinions on the subject,” he replied. “And I imagine they are more in line with Lady Loose Screw’s ideas.”