Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(32)

What would it be like not to care?

Although she knew full well he did care—that was why he was entrusting her to bring his position up in Society. Which he would never do if he started talking about business in polite conversation.

“I like figuring out the solution to problems.” He leaned back in his chair, looking consummately at ease. Unlike Olivia, who was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her eyes fixed on his face.

If Lord Carson had chosen this moment to profess his love, she didn’t think she would be able to stop staring across the table at Mr. Wolcott.

That didn’t mean anything at all. Of course it didn’t.

“What kinds of problems, Mr. Wolcott?” Olivia heard herself speak almost before she realized she was doing so. He grinned across the table at her, and she heard Lord Carson exhale—in relief?—beside her.

“I am not certain we should be talking about such things at dinner,” Olivia’s mother said.

“Oh, Mother, do let him continue.” Ida sounded actually curious, which was perhaps the oddest part of the evening. Usually she was completely bored by any and all things that required her to leave her studies and put on a pretty gown. Olivia had been startled to see her sister actually smile a few times when speaking with Mr. Beechcroft.

“It is like a puzzle.” As he spoke, his expression brightened, and Olivia felt herself leaning forward to catch every word.

He was remarkably charismatic, that was for certain. That was the only possible explanation for why he fascinated her so. Like a snake charmer, or a mesmerist. Maybe he was hypnotizing her at this very moment.

“There are people, such as your family, who want to have certain things, maintain a certain way of life.” She wasn’t imagining his sharp tone. And she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable that the tone was warranted, given what her family—and her world in general—thought of him. “My father and I, through our various businesses, have found a way to provide those things while also providing a place for those less fortunate to work. It’s a simple equation, although most don’t see it that way.”

Olivia glanced to see, thankfully, her father engrossed in downing a glass of wine and her mother beaming at Lord Carson. Although that was problematic as well, but something she could consider later.

“I was fortunate enough to invest in a small textiles factory when Edward was quite young,” Mr. Beechcroft added. “I saw the future of industry, and eventually I bought the factory outright, then invested as much as I could in finding good workers. I provide reasonable wages, and they make me profitable.”

Images of the children in the society made Olivia shake her head in disbelief. “It cannot be that easy. There is not always enough work, or enough enough,” she said, frustrated by her inability to find the proper words.

Mr. Wolcott’s smile deepened, and she felt something flicker inside her. Something warm and responsive to his gaze. “It is not enough. And that is why it is necessary to have people such as you in the world, my lady. People who can point out when something is unjust, or there is a wrong to be righted.”

She felt herself start to blush at his referencing their bargain. She didn’t dare look over at Pearl, who was no doubt giving her a knowing glance.

“It is very tedious when Olivia takes it into her head to be obsessed about something,” the duchess said. Oh dear. Mother had been listening, although there was no guarantee she’d heard or understood everything that was said. Which made what she might say even more terrifying.

“There was the time she could not stop talking about dancing lessons until . . .” And then she gulped because of course their dancing master had run off with their sister Della. But never let it be said the duchess had allowed a potentially embarrassing admission to derail her from her cause. In that, Olivia thought, she took after her mother. Although she wasn’t certain now if that was a good thing. In fact, it likely was not.

“And then there was the time right after my dear Eleanor’s betrothal to Lord Alexander Raybourn that she would not stop talking about who she was going to marry and what kind of life they would lead.” And now Olivia was wishing the parqueted floor would open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole, because she was keenly aware of Lord Carson to her side, his hand halted in midair as he was bringing his glass to his mouth, and Mr. Wolcott’s smile fading across from her and Pearl no doubt turning bright red, because her twin felt embarrassment and shame far more than Olivia herself did. And she felt a fair amount of both at the moment.

“Excuse me,” she said, pushing away from the table and dropping her napkin on her chair. She turned and fled the room, unable to think of anything but escape. Escape from her mother’s words, yes, but also escape from all of these new feelings she had about—about everything.

About everyone.

It was horribly embarrassing, of course, but less so than if she stayed there and felt the weight of all those glances. She might even cry, or pick something up and throw it. Two things she would have thought herself incapable of before. But she’d done one of those things when Bennett had said no, and had come close to the other. It was only Mr. Wolcott’s words that had kept her from bursting into tears.

Did she even know herself anymore?

What would it mean, if she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do? Who she wanted to be?

The thought of being unmoored, directionless, was terrifying.