Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

“There, you see? That’s what I mean.” Anna took a moment to sharpen one of her quills. “Er, by the by, do you mind if I use this little incident as part of the plot for my next chapter?”

“Oh, I am so glad that my travails can serve as inspiration for Emmalina and her amours.” Olivia sank into one of the armchairs by the hearth and took her head in her hands. “Drat. I should be smart enough to come up with a clever solution. I can’t very well arrange another face-to-face meeting between Lady Loose Screw and Lord Wrexham’s son, now that he knows my real identity. But there has to be another alternative. Despite what you say, Anna, I feel like a wretch leaving the boy in the lurch.”

A thoughtful silence came over the study, punctuated only by the crackling coals and the scratch of Anna’s pen.

“I have it!” Caro suddenly snapped her fingers. “We can kidnap the Steel Corset and sell her to a ring of white slavers.” She chortled. “Just like in Lord Byron’s poem, The Corsair.”

“I’m not sure we’ll find any pirates cruising along Piccadilly Street,” said Olivia dryly.

“Thank God,” murmured Anna. “My book earnings would not be near enough to bail both of you out of Old Bailey.”

Undeterred by her sister’s sarcasm, Caro began pacing the length of the bowfront window, her face scrunched in thought.

Olivia sighed and picked up the newly purchased book of Hingham’s essays.

“I have it!” Caro suddenly stopped in her tracks. “You can’t meet the boy, but I can! Seeing as I’m not allowed to attend any balls or parties yet, none of the ton is familiar with my face. Even if Lord Wrexham happened to spot me, he wouldn’t have a clue as to who I am.”

Olivia reminded herself that the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. And yet, knowing how much Caro was yearning for an Adventure in London, she couldn’t bring herself to dismiss it out of hand.

“Hmmm,” she murmured. “And just how would we arrange this meeting without his father knowing of it? I doubt we could simply send a letter to the earl’s townhouse with provoking suspicion.”

Caro thought for a few moments. “Easy. You send a nice picture book to the boy, with a note attached to the cover saying that you hope his eye has healed. Lord Wrexham will of course read it, but there’s nothing to stir his suspicions, right?” She paused. “But inside the book, where the earl won’t see it, you put another note, saying that Lady Loose Screw had observed this morning’s meeting and was afraid to show herself and reveal her true identity with you there. However, because she didn’t want Prescott to feel she had abandoned him, she had this book secretly delivered to your house, along with a note to you explaining the circumstances.”

“Caro—” began Olivia. But her youngest sister quickly waved her to silence.

“No, let me finish! You see, she, um, knows you from one of your political societies, and so feels she can trust you to pass it on to Prescott discreetly. I will write a second note to put inside the book, this one from Lady Loose Screw, setting a rendezvous with the boy in the gardens of Grosvenor Square. I’m sure he is clever enough to think of an excuse to walk there. After all, it’s right outside his father’s door.”

“Lud, you have a Machiavellian mind,” murmured Anna. “You’ve even thought of the little details, like making sure the handwriting on the two notes is not the same.”

“It must come from reading your novels,” said her youngest sister, with an evil grin.

“Ha! No wonder we novelists are blamed for corrupting the young and the innocent.” Anna rolled her eyes, and then looked at Olivia. “That said, Caro is showing a budding talent for plotting. Her plan just might work.”

Caro dropped an exaggerated curtsy.

“Which begs the next question,” drawled Anna. “What in the name of Hades do you intend to have Caro tell the boy?”

“Short of suggesting that he sell the odious ‘Steel Corset’ into a pasha’s harem,” added Caro.

“I’m not exactly sure yet,” answered Olivia. “But I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Quickening his steps, John turned the corner and crossed the street. A bell tinkled as he entered the door to the shop, setting off a flurry of whispers among the ink-stained clerks.

One of them rose from his stool and ushered the earl into a private office. “I’ll tell the guv that you are here again, milord.”

John removed his hat and began to peruse a series of colorful broadsides hung on the far wall.

“So sorry, milord!”

The earl turned at the sound of the booming voice.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” went on Josiah Hurley as he paused in the open doorway and straightened his rumpled waistcoat. “Do have a seat, sir. How may I help you today?”

Distracted for a moment by the fleeting glimpse of a cloaked figure exiting the shop, Wrexham didn’t answer for an instant. Taking the proferred chair, he furrowed his brow. “Why, that was Miss Olivia Sloane who just left here, was it not?”

“Was it?” Hurley rubbed at his jaw, leaving a smudge of linseed oil. “To tell the truth, I didn’t ask the lady her name.”

How very odd, mused the earl. Young ladies did not usually go out of their way to visit a printing shop.