Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(4)

A maid stood nearby holding an umbrella over her mistress’s head, but the lady herself paid no heed to the rain, stepping out from the cover to stretch her hand forward to a merchant who had hold of a small, struggling child.

The child looked to be about ten, perhaps older, since he or she was rail thin.

He stepped forward to intervene, but by now the lady had extricated the child from the merchant’s hold and was holding her hand out to her maid, who was dropping a few coins into the lady’s gloved palm.

“Here,” she said in an imperious voice to the merchant, “this should pay you sufficiently for what you think you’ve suffered.” She allowed the coins to slip from her hand into the merchant’s raised hand, punctuating her words with a dismissive sniff.

The merchant glowered but took the money and stepped back inside his shop, while the lady knelt down in front of the child.

Edward couldn’t hear what she said now—she was speaking too quietly—but he saw the child’s face break into a smile and saw her tuck a few more coins into the child’s pocket, then frown and unwrap her scarf from her neck, placing it around the child’s instead.

He had never seen an aristocrat do something so directly to help—yes, many of the people with whom his father did business gave money to various causes, making certain to mention it in polite company—but he hadn’t seen anyone do something so small, and yet so important, as this. It made him more hopeful about the Society event that evening. Perhaps, if there were people like her in attendance, he wouldn’t be made to feel out of place.

The child ran off, a grin on his face, and the lady rose, looking weary for a moment before straightening her shoulders and raising her chin, returning to looking every inch a proud, uncaring lady.

She glanced over in his direction, a cool, haughty expression on her face, and he felt himself start to smile. He knew her secret; she wasn’t what she appeared to be; she was someone who cared, and cared deeply.

She was young, he could see, and quite lovely, at least as far as he could tell from across the street.

He felt an urge to meet her, to discover what it was that made her different from others of her kind, but before he could, she’d swept off, her maid trailing behind, valiantly trying to shield her mistress from the rain.

Edward shrugged, knowing it was likely just as well he couldn’t meet her. What if she wasn’t truly as good as she appeared to be from this one instance?

But still. It made him wonder who she was, and why she was so caring.

Perhaps he would meet her, and then if he were lucky, he would ask her to dance. And then he would step on her feet, and she would discover who he was, and his warm feeling toward her would be gone.

But for now it was enough to feel the warmth surrounding his heart.





Chapter 2




If you have to choose between being polite and doing good, always choose the latter.

Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Decorum



“Oh, how delightful!”

Olivia spoke to herself since Pearl had disappeared in search of some refreshment, as usual, leaving Olivia to the side of the ballroom.

Their mother was fanning herself in the chaperones’ corner, talking non-stop as was her habit. Olivia and her sisters had gotten to the point where they were able to communicate with one another through hand gestures so they knew what topic their mother was discussing without having to listen.

Olivia’s dance partner, a slight gentleman who had stepped on her feet at least six times, had made his bows and departed as soon as the music had stopped.

Was it, she wondered, because she had taken the opportunity to remind Lord Frederick of the essential steps of the dance they were engaged in? But surely he would welcome a gentle reminder of how he was supposed to move?

That settled, she glanced around the room, her gaze searching for Bennett.

The party was at the Estabrooks’ house, and she knew—because of course she followed his career avidly—that Bennett was hoping that Lord Estabrook would lend his support to one of Bennett’s ongoing projects. She’d heard that Queen Victoria had deigned to read one of his papers, which boded well for its success.

She hadn’t followed closely enough to know just what he was hoping to accomplish, never mind what the queen actually thought of what he’d written. When she was his wife, she would of course be conversant with the issues that occupied his time. But until then, she had to admit that reading all the arguments for and against a concern made her eyes wander.

Besides which, she always knew that it was better to be doing than to be reading. It was something she would point out to him, when she was properly ensconced as his wife. Her sister Ida had not received Olivia’s guidance well, but her true love would agree.

She wrinkled her nose as she spotted Bennett at the edge of the dance floor speaking with Lady Cecilia, another debutante having her first Season this year.

Bennett looked bored, although her conscience forced her to acknowledge that it was difficult to see his expression from this far away. But he had to be bored speaking with Lady Cecilia—Lady Cecilia was fresh from the schoolroom, and Bennett was a man, accustomed to matters of great importance, not where a gown was coming from or how many invitations one had received.

That type of flighty girl had been Olivia not so long ago, even though it felt like a lifetime ago. It had taken a starving child begging outside her father’s house to finally make her realize that not everyone was like her. Very few people were, actually. And not in character, but in opportunities.