Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(61)

So perhaps later on she would be able to speak with him. About her and him and them and all the things she had barely allowed herself to admit within the confines of her own head.



Now that his father was no longer in imminent danger of perishing, Edward could fully concentrate on the thing—or more specifically the person—that brought him the most enjoyment in life.

He knew when he’d mentioned hunting that she would speak up against it. He found himself savoring how her voice rose in volume, as did the color in her cheeks. How her eyes flashed furiously as she argued in defense of the foxes.

It had been easy to agree to what she said. It was a pleasure, actually. To accede to her wishes in something so minor when it would bring her so much satisfaction.

“Mr. Wolcott, how many people live in the village?”

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to smile at her, conscious of her arm on his left. Her sister Lady Pearl was on his right-hand side, while their other sister Lady Ida strode ahead, looking back with an aggrieved expression at how slow the rest of the party was.

Edward wasn’t assuming that; she had called out a few times for them to hurry up, but her sisters had told her they would walk at their own pace, thank you very much.

“I am not certain,” he replied, doing a quick tally in his head. “Perhaps five hundred? I don’t go into town much, not unless I am meeting one of our representatives at the Lamb and Flag. The local inn,” he explained.

“And do the children attend school?” she demanded, clearly already spoiling for a fight.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Olivia, of course there is a school,” Pearl said dismissively. “They’re not barbarians.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You implied it,” her twin pointed out.

“You need to ask questions, even obvious ones, to make certain everything is as it should be,” Olivia replied in her most autocratic tone.

“Of course you do,” Edward said, patting her arm.

“Now you’re being condescending.”

Edward took a deep breath. “You’re right. I am. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” she said in a low tone.

“Thank you,” he said, equally quietly.

The more he got to know her, the more he realized how vulnerable she was, despite her headstrong determination to be on the right side at all times.

It must be very difficult for her to always be on the alert for injustice. From ducks to foxes to impoverished children, it was all equally important.

Perhaps he should be asking her if she had ever had any unadulterated fun.

“I believe that today is market day in the village. I haven’t been for some time, but as far as I recall, it’s a festive occasion. And,” he said, making a grand gesture of consulting his pocket watch, “it should be late enough so that the children are no longer in school.”

She swatted him on the arm, but he could see her smiling out of the corner of his eye.

“I have some pin money, perhaps we can buy something,” Pearl said in an excited tone.

“I do as well, although I cannot think of anything I would want that is more important than someone else’s comfort.”

“Oh, do give it a rest,” Pearl said. “Can’t you just have fun without worrying about people?”

“No,” she said. He hurt for her, that she felt she had to be so vigilant all the time.

No wonder she kissed him so often—she was probably desperate for something that would take her mind off her constant monitoring of potentially unjust situations.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, him wishing he could get her to ease up on her worries without having to compromise her.



Olivia knew she was being unpleasant. Pearl only ever wanted the best for her, but she was finding it impossible to concentrate on anything with him so close. Her hand looped through his arm, his body right next to hers.

“I used to come to the village once a week when I was young,” he said in an abrupt tone of voice. As though he wasn’t accustomed to telling anybody anything. “The people who lived there knew who I was and didn’t treat me any differently. Neither as though I were more important or less.” He chuckled. “Maybe because I was twelve years old and skinny as a rail, and yet I know I always looked as though I were ready to punch someone.”

The image was sweet, in its own odd way—a young Edward blustering through the world, keenly aware of his birth and determined not to let anyone stop him from being who he was.

Except he had come to her world to be more than he was. Only, if he were to be accepted by her world, he would have to end up being less. Marrying a woman who was less, because she had agreed to marry him. Having to watch his behavior all the time so nobody could accuse him of living up to his origins rather than his upbringing.

“It must be exhausting,” she said, feeling the ache inside her. Like her own type of fatigue, only his wasn’t borne out of injustice for others. But injustice for himself. Something he couldn’t escape by attending a party or laughing with siblings—he didn’t have any, that she knew of—or playing with kittens.

Or kissing. Although maybe that was why he had responded so fiercely when she kissed him. Because he was trying to escape, not because of how he actually felt about her.