Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(37)

You make me laugh.

Has Bennett ever made you laugh?

Olivia nearly turned to see how Pearl could be so close, and then realized she’d just heard her twin’s voice in her head.

“You’re still laughing at me.”

She shot a pointed glance at him as she edged back from within the circle of his arms.

“I’m not going to step on your foot again.” His words were exasperated, and she felt a delightful joy at having irritated him so thoroughly. So adorably.

“You can appreciate my being concerned,” she replied. “You warned me yourself that you weren’t very good at this. You said nothing about possible bodily injury, however.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “I wonder if that is the real reason young ladies might not look favorably at the prospect of having you as a husband. Perhaps they are better informed than I am, and have naturally stayed away.”

She shook her head in mock disapproval. “You did not tell me of this impediment to the project, Mr. Wolcott. I might not have taken on the challenge if I knew just what a challenge it was.” And then she grinned at him again, wondering just what kind of mischievous spark she had discovered in herself. That he seemed to have unearthed in her.

“If we weren’t in the middle of this party,” he began, then swallowed and stared determinedly over her head.

Well. That sounded fascinating. She wondered if he were thinking that if they weren’t in the middle of this party that he’d grab her even closer and kiss her. Fiercely, with all the passion she knew simmered just underneath his elegant evening clothes.

Speaking of which, she knew he was strong, but she’d felt the force of him as he’d escorted her onto the dance floor. Not to mention how he’d held her in his arms as they kissed. Although she should not be thinking about that.

Still, there was something almost intoxicating about suspecting he had a lot of strength that could be unleashed at any time. Anywhere. With anyone.

Just thinking about it made her shiver.

The music ended, and she curtseyed as he bowed, one of his curls slipping onto his forehead, making her wish she could reach up and smooth it back.

And then muss it all up again? a voice that was most definitely not Pearl’s said in her head.

“Thank you for the dance.” Even his voice made her shiver—all rich and dark and deep, as though what he was saying wasn’t truly what he was saying.

Not that that made any sense.

“Thank you, Mr. Wolcott. You are not that bad a dancer after all. I am sure I can find some eligible young ladies who might be willing to risk their toes for the pleasure.”

Although the last thing she wanted—even if she could barely admit it to herself—was for some other young lady to be the recipient of that devastating smile, being held in his powerful arms as he adorably and endearingly counted the beats of the music.

But that was the challenge. And she wanted the money he’d promised for the poor women and children, the thought of whom acted on her emotions like a bucket of cold water.

What was she doing, mooning over him? He wasn’t her destiny. Bennett was. With Bennett, she would single-handedly rescue her family’s reputation so that Pearl and Ida, at least, could marry well. Perhaps eventually Della could return to London, impossible though that seemed now.

None of that would be possible if she didn’t marry Bennett. Never mind getting married to Edward, whose birth would cause yet another scandal.

It was up to her. It was all up to her.

“Can you escort me back to my mother?” she asked, not waiting for his reply as she took his arm.

“Of course.”

She took a deep breath as they walked, scanning the room, looking at each single young lady in turn. Too dull, too aware of her own consequence, too irritating, too—curse it. She was never going to win this challenge if she shot down every single possible candidate. It was up to Mr. Wolcott and the lady in question if they suited, wasn’t it? She should endeavor to introduce him to every possible female and allow his wealth and undeniable charm do the work.

That settled, she lifted her chin, planning out just who she’d introduce him to and when.

Overcoming her ridiculous fascination with him would be just another test of her perseverance and determination.



“Come in, my boy, and tell me about your evening.”

Edward turned at the sound of his father’s voice, smiling at the now-familiar sequence—he went out, his father waited up for him, and then questioned him intently about who he saw and what he did.

Mr. Beechcroft stood at the entrance to the library, a cozy fire flickering behind him.

Edward handed his coat and hat to the butler and strode after his father, feeling a frown cross his features as he saw how his father labored to sit comfortably.

The tightness in his chest had eased while he had been at the party, but it returned so quickly and forcefully it felt as though he had been punched. What was he doing, attending parties and dancing with sparkling ladies when his father was ill?

Instead of sitting himself, he knelt down in front of his father, looking up at his worn, beloved face. “Why are you up so late? You’re supposed to be resting while I am doing all the hard work of finding a woman to marry me.” He grinned as he spoke, not wanting to let his father know Edward’s reaction when he saw his father’s obvious illness.