Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(18)

“I promise you, my lady, that even those requirements will be near impossible to fill.”

Her eyes glittered with determination. If only—

No, one of his conditions was that his wife not look down on him—at least not much—because of his birth. And Lady Olivia made it clear, with every raised eyebrow, each patronizing question, that she did look down on him. He might find her attractive, even alluring, but he would never consider marriage to her. She was too far above him, in her own mind as well as in reality, to waste a moment thinking of her that way.

Besides which, she believed herself to be in love with his closest friend.

“I have never failed when I have resolved to do something, Mr. Wolcott,” she announced. For a moment, he almost believed her. “Not only will I get you accepted properly into Society, I will find a suitable lady that you will be pleased to marry.”

He felt his lips curl up into a wry grin. “That is a lofty promise, my lady. I will give you a month.” He shrugged, feeling the weight of her gaze on his face. “If you can accomplish what you’ve promised in that time, I will—” what could he offer her? He couldn’t promise her Bennett. But he did have his wealth. “I will donate one thousand pounds to the charity of your choice.”

That would appeal both to her charitable interests and to her assumption that she would succeed at anything she was challenged to do.

She smiled in satisfaction and held her hand to him. “That is a bargain, Mr. Wolcott.”

As he took her slim hand in his and shook it to seal the deal, he found himself—oddly enough—looking forward to the next thirty days, whereas before he had been dreading it.

“You can start tomorrow,” Edward said, rising from his seat. If he was going to be presented as a respectable member of Society, he wanted to get good and drunk first. To forget for a moment who he was, and most important, what he was. The bastard son of an indulgent father who didn’t see the stings and barbs tossed toward Edward in myriad ways.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.





Chapter 6




Sometimes people do not know what is best for them. It is your duty to show them the way.

Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Decorum



“Olivia!”

Olivia sighed as she heard her mother’s voice. She was already having a frustrating morning, what with snarling the thread nearly every time she tried to sew. She couldn’t help but realize her entire life was made up of deadlines—she had to deliver shifts by a certain time, respectability and a bride to Mr. Wolcott in a month, and then allow Lord Carson to see the error of his ways and ask for her hand in marriage before her father the duke took his children to the country so he could go hunting.

She did not like hunting.

But these deadlines were all her own fault, brought on by her own determination to do what was right, so she couldn’t complain.

Even though you are complaining, Pearl’s voice pointed out in her head.

“Coming, Mother,” she replied, placing her sewing on the table. She smoothed her gown, picking a few stray threads off her skirts as she walked down the hallway to her mother’s sitting room.

“Yes?” she said as she entered, glancing around the room to see what she might have to fix. It was remarkable how many things suddenly needed her attention now that her older sisters were not in residence. She didn’t mind being in charge, of course; but she did wish her mother and the household in general were less in need of her attention.

She had wrongs to right and wives to find outside of the home.

“Olivia, what is this I hear about your speaking with that—that person?” her mother asked.

Olivia regarded her mother in confusion. “What person?” Cook was the last person her mother had asked her to speak to, and Olivia couldn’t see what her mother’s issue might be.

“Mr. Beechcroft’s . . . son,” she replied in a stiff voice.

The flare of indignant anger rose up in her chest. But despite her mother’s casual dismissal of doing anything that required her to think or act, she would not allow Olivia to lecture her.

Olivia had discovered that, to her chagrin, when she had tried to inform her mother about the conditions at the workhouse.

She had learned to escape the house without being entirely clear about where she was going. Her mother was too distracted by her various and multiple thoughts about the weather, her tea, her lady’s maid’s latest illness, and other extremely important things to bother about where her daughter was going.

Even though her daughter Della had done the same thing, culminating in an elopement with the girls’ dancing instructor. You’d think their mother would have begun to pay more attention to what her remaining daughters were doing, but it seemed she just couldn’t be bothered.

She hadn’t always been like this, but since their sister Della had eloped with the dance instructor, she seemed to have lost her energy.

Although not her voice.

“Mr. Wolcott?” Olivia replied in a casual tone of voice. She couldn’t let her mother know that Mr. Wolcott was her latest project. “Lord Carson introduced us. He is a great friend to Lord Carson,” she added, knowing her mother would seize on that point to allow Olivia to keep his acquaintance.

The only thing she and her mother agreed on, actually, was that Olivia should be married to Lord Carson. Persuading her mother that being polite to Mr. Wolcott would speed the betrothal would allow her to work unimpeded on the Wolcott Project.