Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)
“Ah, Lord Davenport,” murmured Olivia. “What a surprise to see you here tonight.” The marquess was reputed to be a ruthless rake and rarely made an appearance in the ballrooms of Mayfair. His favored haunts were said to be in the more dangerous, disreputable parts of Town, where the drinking was deep, the gambling was outrageous, and the women were unfettered by the rules of Polite Society.
His mouth curled up at the corners. “Oh, on occasion, I can behave in a civilized manner.”
“Yes, but one wouldn’t expect that an occasion like this would bring out your better nature,” she replied.
He laughed. “It hasn’t. I’m only here because I’m looking for a rich heiress.”
Olivia bit back a smile. Despite his awful reputation, she rather liked The Devil Davenport and the way he flaunted his utter disregard for what people thought of him. “Alas, sir, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong corner of the room.”
Davies frowned a warning at the marquess and hastily changed the subject. “Have you two ladies read the latest novel from Sir Sharpe Quill? My sisters say it’s highly diverting.”
Olivia slanted a sidelong glance at Anna, who didn’t turn a hair.
“Though I suppose you are both far too sensible to read such silly scribbling,” added Davies with a smile.
“On the contrary,” replied Olivia. “I enjoyed it.”
“As did I,” said Davenport.
“Seeing as my sisters were making such a fuss about the book, I felt compelled to read it as well,” explained Davies. “I confess, it was amusing. But absurd.”
“Of course it’s absurd,” drawled Davenport. “That’s the point. But unlike most of the other books of its type, it’s clever and very well written.” He turned to Anna. “And you, Miss Anna, have you read it?”
“Yes,” she said rather curtly.
Davenport raised an inquiring brow. “And?”
“I see things that could be improved.”
The marquess flicked a wrinkle from his sleeve. “Such as?”
Before Anna could answer, Lady Trumbull appeared, and began clucking in agitated alarm, like a mother hen herding her chicks away from the jaws of a stalking fox. “Come girls, I must speak to you for a moment.” Glowering at Davenport, she added, “In private, if you please.”
Inclining a sardonic bow, the marquess sauntered away.
Catching Lord Davies’s eye, she quickly softened her scowl. “You, sir, are of course most welcome to return and escort Anna in to supper. I shan’t be long with her.”
“My pleasure, madam,” replied Davies, discreetly backing away in the crowd.
“Pray, do not encourage such a scoundrel as Lord Davenport, Olivia,” scolded her mother. “Do you wish to scare off all the eligible suitors for your sister’s hand?”
“It wasn’t Olivia’s fault that the man joined our group,” said Anna. “The Devil dances to his own tune.”
“Hmmph!” Lady Trumbull swatted one her turban’s drooping feathers away from her face. “Don’t contradict me, my dear. It’s not ladylike. And don’t speak to that rogue again.”
“Yes, Mama,” replied Anna sweetly.
Mollified, their mother returned to the group of basilisk-eyed chaperones sitting near the refreshment table.
“Perhaps we should have mentioned that last time you came to a ball, you danced with the Earl of Wrexham,” mused Anna as she watched the bobbing ostrich plumes slowly recede from view. “That would have spiked her guns, so to speak.”
“As you well know, Mama needs no real reason to fire away at me,” muttered Olivia.
“That’s because you make yourself an easy target,” pointed out Anna. She surveyed the room over the top of her fan. “Speaking of Wrexham, I wonder if he is here tonight?”
“It doesn’t matter if he is. Trust me, the earl won’t willingly seek out my company.”
“Oh?” Her sister’s voice held the tiniest note of smugness. “And yet, I saw him follow you behind the potted dahlias at Lady Battell’s ball.