“All the more so because of the many obstacles you face in making yourself heard, simply because you are a lady. It is…” He pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “It is unfair.”
“There is much injustice around us, Lord Wrexham,” replied Olivia softly. “Which is why I wish to wield my pen. My plight pales in comparison to what others suffer.”
“You have exemplary courage and compassion,” he replied.
Her cheeks turned uncomfortably warm. “I fear that you overestimate me, sir. I assure you, I have plenty of faults.”
Another small stretch of silence. A sidelong glance at his profile revealed nothing. Whatever he was thinking, the earl hid his emotions well.
As for her own…She drew in a tiny gulp of air, hoping to steady her skittering pulse.
“We all have our faults,” he finally murmured, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the thudding hooves. “Just as we all have secrets that we pray will never become public knowledge.”
Olivia felt her chest constrict.
“It has occurred to me that perhaps you feel I now have an unfair advantage over you because I know you are The Beacon. I wish for us to be true partners in this endeavor to win passage of this bill. So I…”
John hesitated, and she saw his hands tighten on the reins.
“I shall tell you a secret regarding my own personal affairs—one that would cause me to be the laughingstock of London were it ever to be known by the beau monde.”
“Sir, You need not—” she began.
He quickly cut her off. “On the contrary, I feel it important that from the very start of this campaign, we fight as equals.”
“Lord Wrexham…” Now was the time to tell him about Lady Loose Screw, Olivia told herself. But this unexpected turn had taken her completely by surprise, and her tongue seemed tied in knots.
“No, no, please hear me out, Miss Sloane.” John’s voice held a note of quiet command. “I would imagine you are aware of the newspaper advertisement—the one concerning a mother—that is causing such a titter throughout the drawing rooms of Mayfair.”
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Olivia nodded mutely.
“Well, it was placed by my son.”
“I…I see.”
“Yes, well, I am sure you also see how horribly embarrassing it would be for me if that fact ever became public.”
“You fear that the Perfect Hero would appear the Perfect Fool.”
He chuffed a humorless laugh. “Yes, you’ve summed it up quite perfectly.”
Olivia couldn’t meet his eyes. “I have read the advertisement, sir. And it seems to me that Prescott should be applauded for caring so much about your happiness.” She essayed a smile. “And indeed, he deserves a great deal of credit for conceiving of such a bold strategy. You have to admit, he is a very resourceful boy.”
“Too bold.” The earl’s mouth gave a grudging twitch. “And definitely too resourceful.”
A dappling of sunlight danced along the rueful curl of his smile.
Don’t look. Don’t feel…
It was guilt, she told herself, that was making her throat so painfully tight. Swallowing the sensation, Olivia reminded herself that she was The Beacon, a sharp-tongued intellectual, not a calf-eyed schoolgirl.
“There, you have had your say, sir, and now we both hold a weapon that can be wielded against the other.” She lifted her face to the breeze, grateful for the cooling touch against her skin. “But let us move on to more important things and not waste any more precious time on personal talk. You have a speech to write—a speech that can have even more influence than my newspaper columns. As a noted war hero, your opinion on the upcoming bill in Parliament will carry a good deal of weight with your peers.”
John nodded, but a flicker of his lashes seemed to darken his gaze for just an instant.
A sudden thought occurred to her. “Is that why Lord Davenport sent a warning about your having made some very unpleasant enemies?”