Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(21)

“Oh.” Olivia bit her lip to keep from peppering him with questions, questions he already said he did not wish to answer. But that was the unfortunate thing about her, she already knew; once there was a mystery to be uncovered, or a wrong to be righted, she wouldn’t rest—or stop asking questions—until she solved it.

But if he refused to speak with her because she had pressed him too hard, she would never have the satisfaction of seeing him received in Society, nor would he donate a thousand pounds.

Nor would he be happily married.

Nor would she be happily married. That was the most important reason of all.

Although that thought didn’t please her as much as it should have. This was all for her eventual marriage to Lord Carson. That was why she was doing it, she reminded herself.

“Your list,” he said, stretching his hand out. “Can I see it?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, holding it out for him to take. His fingers brushed hers during the exchange, and she felt a shiver run through her.

He unfolded the paper and smoothed it out so he could read it. She watched, fascinated by the firm gesture. His fingers were long and thick, not the gentleman’s hands she was accustomed to seeing. His nails were clean, but cut short, likely to be able to write more efficiently. She spotted a dot of ink on his ring finger and smiled to herself.

“A list of potential brides?” he said after a moment, lifting his gaze to hers. “Do you know if they meet my standards? Even though my standards are, as you said, quite limited.” He looked back down, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “I have been introduced to a few of these ladies already, and I highly doubt if they would wish to be on this list.” He looked back up, a rueful smile on his mouth. “And the ones who have not been openly rude are likely just biding their time until they can be.”

Olivia felt her cheeks heat. In embarrassment over her fellow Society ladies’ despicable behavior, or in having presented the list in the first place, she didn’t know. She snatched the paper back from him and crumpled it up in a ball in her hand.

“You have to be open-minded about this,” she said, the words spilling out in a rush. “It is not as easy as just selecting an item from a menu.”

“But it’s your menu,” he shot back. “Wasn’t that why you came over with this list? To see which lady piqued my interest, even though marriage is not a matter of choosing a name and proceeding?”

“Oh, and what do you know about marriage?” she replied, clapping her hand over her mouth as she realized what she’d said.

His lips curled into a smile devoid of humor. “Exactly. I know nothing of marriage, not having witnessed one in my own life.”

Oh no. She’d done it again. Spoken without considering whom she was talking to, a man who’d grown up keenly aware of the stigma of his birth.

She released her hand from her mouth and took a deep breath. “I apologize, Mr. Wolcott. That was—”

“Thoughtless? But also expected?” His voice held a bitter tone that felt as though it was actually stinging her.

“Both,” she said quietly. Her cheeks were hot, flushed with embarrassment. And then her whole body followed suit, making it feel as though she were standing next to a hot oven.

“The thing is,” she said, licking her lips, which felt suddenly dry, “that you will never be able to find a suitable wife if you believe every single female you meet is likely to reject you.”

He raised a brow. “Is that your strategy? Believing anyone you decide upon will wish to have you?”

The words stung. Was it because they were true? She couldn’t think about that now. She would not think about that now.

“We’re not discussing my situation, Mr. Wolcott.” She glanced at the clock in the corner, noting it had already been fifteen minutes. “We don’t have much more time before Ida returns, and we should have a plan in place to accomplish your goal.”

“Your goal,” he corrected. “Being properly received in Society is your goal, not mine. I have no hopes of it.”

“But you do wish to be married,” she retorted. “And in order to find someone, you’ll need to overcome the hurdle of your birth.”

“Thank you for acknowledging it is a hurdle. Most ladies don’t even mention it. They just sniff and look anywhere but at me.”

“Goodness, why wouldn’t they want to know you? I mean, just look at you!” Of course she spoke without thinking. But then again, it gave her the excuse to just look at him herself.

So tall and handsome and wildly, virilely attractive. That hair of his curling everywhere, as untamed as he seemed to be. And yet he spoke and acted politely, far more assured than many of the young lords she had met in Society. It was just that his politeness seemed to encase someone else entirely different, an outsized man whose passion and intensity might scorch her if she got too close.

She was not going to allow herself to get too close.

Was she?

“You do have a point.” He spoke reluctantly, and Olivia tried not to be smugly pleased he had agreed with her. More people should do that in general; it would make her life so much easier. “So what is your suggestion? Beyond making a list of ladies who would be horrified if I came courting?”

Olivia folded her hands in her lap. “I suppose I will have to rethink my tactics.”