Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(5)

That anger had started to burn inside until she was forced to do things about it, but few people in her world knew of her works.

It was no wonder Bennett had always regarded her as though he were mildly amused by her. It was time for him to see her as she truly was.

Tonight.

Thus decided, she began the slow walk to where Bennett stood, skirting the edge of the room and smiling politely at the guests who nodded at her.

It wasn’t entirely proper for her to approach him, but she knew that once he heard what she had to say, he would forgive her. More than that, he would agree to what she asked him, and neither one of them would have to spend any more conversation with people who bored them. Who didn’t share the same passionate interests in justice and change and righting wrongs that they did.

“Lord Carson?” she said as she joined Bennett and Lady Cecilia, the latter of whom raised her tiny, perfect nose at Olivia’s intrusion. “Might I beg a private word with you?”

Bennett glanced from one lady to another, his brow furrowed, but after a moment he nodded. “Of course, my lady,” he said. He bowed to Lady Cecilia. “You’ll forgive me? Lady Olivia is my sister-in-law’s younger sister—nearly family.”

Lady Cecilia shot a glare at Olivia, but her mouth curved into a sweet smile as she looked at Bennett. “Of course, my lord.” A pause, then Lady Cecilia spoke again. “When you are finished with familial concerns, I would like to ask your opinion on a few things.”

Olivia nearly emitted a noise that would have indicated what she thought, but that wouldn’t be fitting for the adult young lady she was now.

So she just returned Lady Cecilia’s smile and took Bennett’s arm, allowing him to lead her into one of the rooms adjacent to the ballroom.





“Mr . . . Wolcott?” the older lady said, her pause between the Mr. and the Wolcott an indication she knew precisely who he was. Especially since one of Bennett’s friends, a Lord Something-or-Other, had just introduced them.

He seldom bothered to remember people’s names, since he usually only met them once, since after they discovered who he was—or more precisely what he was—they took pains to never encounter him again.

Bennett had left unexpectedly, pulled away by one of the fluttering debutantes in attendance. It wouldn’t normally matter to Edward, but Bennett was the only one who could ensure Edward wasn’t treated as rudely as he might otherwise be. The most recent example being the lady’s pause between words.

Bennett’s friend glanced from Edward to the Pausing Lady, his look one of confusion. Edward appreciated that Bennett didn’t gossip about him, but giving this friend of his some word about why not everyone would want to meet Edward would not go amiss.

But that was Bennett. Seeing the good in everybody, and not recognizing that some people reveled in ignorance. Only one of the reasons Edward was grateful he was the one born a bastard, and not Eternally Optimistic Bennett.

“Yes.” Edward accompanied his reply with a bow. “I have just arrived in London, and my friend Lord Carson invited me to this function.” He might as well get the explanation over with, given that she was likely about to question him about just how he happened to be here with the likes of her.

“Ah,” she replied, visibly softening. Bennett had that effect on people.

Edward did not.

“And how do you happen to be here?” Edward asked, making Bennett’s friend’s face turn white and the lady gasp in outrage.

Damn. And he’d been doing so well. For at least fifteen seconds or so.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he continued without waiting for her to speak, bowing again and turning on his heel in search of one of those vaunted private rooms Bennett had promised. Anything but being open and exposed out here, like a frightened fox being stampeded by vicious dogs.

He had to admit to having far more sympathy for the animals he hunted right now. And also understood why they turned around and snarled rather than succumbing to the attack.

But he couldn’t snarl. He had to escape.

He walked quickly to a door at one corner of the room, slipping inside without having to make eye contact with anyone.

The room was empty, thank goodness, and he took a deep breath—his first of the evening—glancing around at what seemed to be a small visiting room.

A few chairs were scattered about, as were a few tables, their tops cluttered with the type of bric-a-brac that seemed to accompany these people’s homes.

He exhaled, stepping forward to the sofa that sat directly in front of a still-burning fire.

Leaping over the back, he plopped down on the soft cushions, twisting his long body so he was lying down staring into the fire. The flames were mesmerizing, and he let his mind drift.

Away from the party outside, the people who despised him, the constant bitter tang of his birth fell away.





“Is Lady Eleanor all right? I know that Alexander was worried she was doing so much, what with the—” And then Bennett hesitated.

“Baby coming?” Olivia allowed herself the luxury of rolling her eyes at him. “Honestly, it is not as though we all don’t know what is happening.”

Bennett uttered a sort of strangled noise in his throat, and then took a deep breath. “Yes, the baby.”

“Everything is fine.” She swept ahead of him and pushed a door open, one that was in one of the far corners of the ballroom. She glanced back to see that Lady Cecilia had already found some other gentleman to converse with. So much for perseverance, she thought, wanting to toss her head in triumph, then she gestured for him to precede her. “Go in, I want to speak to you.”