Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(25)

Edward hadn’t been able to keep himself inside while waiting for the ladies. It just felt so unlike him to sit and wait for something. Usually he went out and got it—whether in business, horses, or hunting—so he felt edgy and restless while staring at the clock.

Standing and waiting was preferable to sitting and waiting, even if neither was preferable at all. But now they had arrived, so he didn’t have to wait any longer.

“This is the carriage?” Lady Olivia asked, running her fingers along the rail that ran outside. The carriage was one of four that Edward’s father had purchased when the two of them arrived in London; it looked as though it had just come from the coachbuilder, and sparkled nearly as brightly as Olivia’s smile.

And when had he come to think of her as just plain Olivia? Even though there was nothing plain about her.

“It is.” Edward noticed how Olivia’s sister nearly rolled her eyes. At her sister’s obvious statement or his obvious confirmation of the obvious? He didn’t know, but now he felt foolish.

Again, not something he had ever really felt before. Olivia was playing havoc with his emotions as well as attempting to play havoc with his social and marital status.

“If I may?” Edward said, holding his hand out to Lady Pearl. She smiled in return, a genuine smile that lit up her whole face. Like her twin, she had light hair, but it was darker than Olivia’s blond; her eyes were also darker, and she had freckles dotting her nose, making her look entirely adorable. The two looked similar, but not identical. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to constantly be wondering which twin he was speaking to. As though he could mistake Olivia’s sparkling passion for anyone else, he smiled to himself.

The duke’s daughters all seemed to be breathtaking in their own individual ways.

But only one of them made him feel completely and totally alive, as though she’d set fire to his insides, even though he had to admit that sounded entirely unpleasant. But the reality was not; she made him feel the way he did after a particularly satisfying hunt, or when he was in the boxing ring, or doing any kind of physical pursuit.

It was as though she had awoken an animal inside him, one that wanted to exist in a purely visceral way. Even if he was supposed to be behaving like an absolute gentleman.

Dear lord, he was in so much trouble. And yet he couldn’t help but look forward to getting into more.

Lady Pearl settled herself on the seat, and Edward held his hand out to Olivia, anticipating what it would feel like when her fingers were in his.

They were both wearing gloves, of course, but he could have sworn, when she took his hand, that there was nothing but skin between them.

“I think we should go first to Hyde Park,” Olivia said as she smoothed her gown at her waist. The feathers and ribbons on her bonnet fluttered as she spoke, moving with each nod of her head. “The best people go there, and so should we.”

Edward swung himself up into the seat on the opposite side, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.

“Drive on, Clark,” he said, speaking to the coachman. “Hyde Park, if you please.”

The carriage was open, suitable only for a few days of the year in England. All the other days it would be too cold, too rainy, or just too cloudy to enjoy.

But today, this extravagant, ridiculous contraption was perfect.

The seats were upholstered in cream-colored leather, with gold buttons anchoring them down. The outside of the carriage was a rich mahogany color, trimmed with a lighter wood rail running all the way around.

The horses were equally matched in splendor, all four bay-colored with black manes and tails.

Edward leaned his head back against the cushions, relishing the feel of the wind on his face. It was a sunny day, a rarity in London, and he felt both full of care and carefree, if such a dichotomy could be true.

Which of course it couldn’t. But it seemed that ever since he’d met Olivia—that is, Lady Olivia—he’d been pulled between wanting to argue furiously with her and wanting to kiss her just as passionately.

“Mr. Wolcott.”

Her voice was firm, as it always was.

Edward opened one eye and lowered his chin so he could look at her, opening the other eye as he did. “What is it, Lady Olivia?”

She made a frantic gesture in the air, her expression one of displeasure. “Shouldn’t we be discussing things? You’re supposed to be asking us how we are enjoying our time in London. And we are supposed to ask you how you find London Society compares to—where do you come from, anyway?”

She looked so outraged at him he wanted to laugh. Whether she was outraged because he was being, in her eyes, impolite, or because she was livid she didn’t have all the answers—namely, where he came from—he couldn’t say. Likely it was everything, since it was clear Olivia was a woman who wanted to be in control of everything and have all the answers.

What would it look like if she were out of control?

The thought made him shift in his seat. He should not be having such thoughts about her. She was as interested in him as she was in his coachman, although his coachman was likely born of a legitimate union. So perhaps she thought less of him.

“I come from Manchester. My father settled there when he was just starting his empire.”

“Oh, and your moth—? Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“My mother, as you might have heard, was the daughter of a large landowner there. They were hoping to marry, but my father was too poor to support them. Her father forbade it. Then I came along, and she died.” He shrugged, as though his story didn’t matter. Even though of course it did. It had shaped his life, after all.