Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(14)

By spending time with a woman who crackled with life, who made him want to touch her to see if she actually sparked?

He would gladly do it all.



Edward allowed himself to think about her as he mounted his horse, one of his own that he’d brought with him from the country.

“Settle down, Chrysanthemum,” he said as the mare sidestepped skittishly.

She liked London society less than he did, which was why he urged her into a trot, heading straight for the park.

It was early, far too early for anybody who might snub him to be out of doors. Which was why he continued to keep country hours—at least for waking—while in London.

He did like London, at least at this time of day. People were out doing work, not paying him any attention, which was just what he wanted.

Chrysanthemum settled into a regular pace, and he took a moment to appreciate the passing view—tall, thin houses gradually giving way to broader expanses of green as they approached the park. A pack of workers with shovels and spades headed into the park also, probably to beautify it before the right people appeared to tour its perimeter.

And when had he gotten so critical of himself? He hadn’t always felt the sting of his birth so keenly, but here, here where Society could—and did—punish him for something that happened before he was born made him even more aware of who he was.

Thank goodness for his father, who had been able to see past the prejudice and love Edward as his own.

He urged Chrysanthemum into a gallop, lowering himself over her mane, looking between her ears toward the vast expanse of green.

He gripped her sides with his thighs, urging her faster, and faster still, feeling all of his pent-up anger and energy dissipate with each passing step.

“Good girl,” he murmured as she continued her fierce and furious pace.

Fierce and furious returned his thoughts to her. Of course.

She was just as determined to run as Chrysanthemum, only in her case it was to run toward injustice. To gallop hard against indifference and intolerance.

She used her clout to further others who couldn’t do it on their own. No wonder she was so determined to assist him, though he knew he was strong enough to withstand whatever Society might throw his way.

But his father wasn’t. Or, rather, his father would prefer to see his only son participating in the race, not observing from outside, or worse yet, forbidden to even watch.

He needed her help. He should admit that, if not to her, at least to himself. She was a duke’s daughter, she could enter worlds and speak to people he could not. Would not, if he had his preference.

But he didn’t. He owed it to his father, at least, to try. He was doubtful of his ability to succeed, but he had to try.



“Do you see him?” Olivia asked Pearl. They were at the Lindens’ party that evening, a small affair with no dancing offered, which meant that there were only 200 people or so in attendance.

Two hundred people, all of whom appeared to be taller than Olivia, so why she was asking her shorter sister was a good question. But not the one she’d asked.

“Which one? Lord Carson or the other one, Mr. Whatever-Is-His-Name?” Pearl snapped back. She was not in a good mood. She’d been forced to attend this evening, despite claiming a headache.

Olivia suspected it was because she actually wanted to stay at home and play with the kittens rather than go to yet another Society function where she’d attempt to sneak into the corner and Olivia would drag her back out.

It was unfortunate that Pearl was so shy, but Olivia knew it was her duty to ensure her twin was known to as many people as possible so that she could hopefully meet the man she would marry.

“You never met Mr. Wolcott,” Olivia said, emphasizing his last name. She regretted even thinking of him as “the bastard.” And that she had said it to his face! If she ever admitted she had done something wrong, she would definitely be admitting it now.

Thankfully, she did not.

“So you are asking me if I see Lord Carson? Be more specific, Olivia, for goodness’ sake,” Pearl grumbled. “Besides which, no. I have not. As you have frequently noted, you are taller than I am, and neither one of us can see past this wall of lordly height,” she continued, still in the same tone of voice.

It was true that there were quite a few gentlemen standing in front of them, their broad, dark backs the only thing either she or Pearl could see. But that kind of impediment wouldn’t stop Olivia from finding him. Surely he would want to know the kindness she was going to do for his friend.

“Ah, there he is!” she announced. “And Mr. Wolcott is there too.” She began to walk forward, then remembered Pearl. “You don’t mind . . . ?” she began, only to stop speaking as Pearl shook her head far more vehemently than the occasion warranted. And then, predictably, she escaped from the ballroom to go out onto the terrace.

“Fine, then,” she muttered to herself. With her eagerness to avoid crowds and parties, Pearl might have to find her own husband.

Perhaps the gentleman was wandering through the maze beyond the terrace. And then Pearl would get lost, and he would help her, and Olivia wouldn’t have to worry about her any longer.

But she couldn’t lose herself in thoughts about her sister, not right now. She had other things to worry about.

Decided on her priorities, she stepped past one of the dark coats in front of her to where Bennett and his friend were standing.