Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

k eye misses very little when it’s focused on a plump purse and fancy title—she would raise holy hell.” Thinking of Anna’s books as well, she added, “The consequences are simply too great.”

“I understand.” He thought for a moment. “It would be well within the bounds of propriety for you to pay a morning call on my sister, but I suppose that still presents the problem of possible discovery.”

“Yes, it does,” she answered. Much as the idea of continuing their intellectual exchange was appealing, Olivia didn’t see how it could be managed. “I am sorry.”

A flick of his hands turned the horses toward High Street. They rode in silence for several minutes. She liked that about the earl—most men seemed to feel the need to constantly natter on, but he was comfortable with his own thoughts.

“There is usually a way to conquer a conundrum, no matter how well fortified it may seem,” he murmured as they left the park. “One simply has to attack it from an unexpected angle.”

An astute observation. She had an inkling that the earl was a master of battlefield strategy.

“I take it you were a very good soldier, Lord Wrexham. Not just in terms of physical courage, which you’ve displayed in spades. But in mental sharpness as well.”

“I did not take reckless risks with the lives of my men, but I wasn’t afraid to improvise,” he replied. “Even if it meant breaking some of the regimental rules.”

Interesting. She was starting to realize that beneath the appearance of perfectly tailored propriety, the earl was a bit of a rebel.

Olivia wondered whether the Steel Corset knew that he wasn’t laced quite as tightly as he seemed.

“So yes, I am not inclined to accept defeat quite so easily,” went on John. He pursed his mouth in thought. “There must be an answer that will not compromise your secret.”

A thought suddenly stirred from the depth of her thoughts. A dangerous one, she mused. And yet, the earl had just proved he was unafraid of stepping squarely into the path of danger.

“Well, perhaps…”

“Please go on.”

Olivia cleared her throat. “There may be one possibility. Mr. Hurley owns a small cottage within the walled garden where you found me the other day. He uses it as retreat for his own writing and has occasionally allowed me to make use of it when I’ve needed peace and quiet to finish up a last-minute revision on my column.”

Another cough. “He’s just as anxious as I am to see this bill pass, so I think he could be convinced to lend it to me—and guarantee absolute privacy—for some regular meetings over the next few weeks.”

The breeze ruffled through his dark hair as John turned his head and their eyes met. “Would you ask him?”

Yes or no.

Olivia thought it over. She wasn’t afraid of taking great risks intellectually, but in her day-to-day life, she had always erred on the side of caution.

He waited, silent and solemn.

However, in this particular case, she mused, the danger seemed minimal. After all, each of them had compelling reasons to make sure that nothing went awry.

“Very well,” she replied slowly.

“Excellent, excellent.” The angular planes of his face softened in the slanting sunlight. “When do you think we might begin?”

“Keep your powder dry, sir,” said Olivia wryly. “It may take a day or two to arrange.”

“I look forward to exploding the opposition’s sense of puffed up conceit and entitlement, so the sooner the better,” he growled. “Mark my word, together we shall win this battle, Miss Sloane.”

“Make no mistake, it will be a tough fight,” she warned. “I am all too aware that passions are heated to a fever pitch on this issue. But I believe that if we marshal our arguments and then move carefully to counter the opposing side’s view—”

“Like chess,” he interjected. “We must simply study the board carefully and dare to be creative.”

“Yes, like chess,” agreed Olivia, feeling a tiny shiver slide down her spine at the recollection of their first smoke-shrouded encounter. “It’s all about strategy. And with our two minds working together, I think we will prevail.”

Chapter Sixteen

How is your speech coming?” asked Cecilia as she added a dab of gooseberry jam to her buttered breakfast toast.