Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(9)

“Lady Olivia,” Bennett said stiffly, bowing.

“My lord,” she replied. She spoke hastily, as though desperate to escape. He couldn’t blame her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—I am actually trying to find my sister Lady Pearl. You haven’t seen her, have you?” she continued, her words coming quickly out of her mouth, her eyes darting around the room. He saw the strain of her smile. He knew how she felt, how much she wanted to be anyplace but here at this moment.

And she wouldn’t like what he was about to do, but it was better than forcing Bennett and her to stand together.

“My lady, we have not been formally introduced,” he began. Even though he had technically introduced himself, he couldn’t very well reference the circumstances under which they’d met. “I am Mr. Wolcott, and I would be pleased to help you find your sister.” He held his arm out for her, waiting a heart-stopping moment before she took it, placing her fingers on his sleeve. “If you will excuse us, gentlemen?” he said, stepping away from Bennett and the hypocrite, feeling the shush of her skirts against his legs.

But not before he heard Lord Smithton. “You cannot allow Lady Olivia to make that man’s acquaintance! I am appalled you . . .” And the rest of his words were lost as they walked out of earshot.

Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Thank you,” she said in a high voice. As though there was so much emotion curled inside her she couldn’t manage it. “For rescuing me even though I was so terrible.” She paused and glanced up at him, her expression curious. “Is everyone so unpleasant when they find out—” And she blushed again.

“That I’m a bastard?” Edward finished. “Yes.”

“I apologize, Mr. Wolcott,” she said in a low tone. “I should not have used that word.”

“But it’s true,” he replied, not knowing why he was arguing the point, but that somehow it took his mind off the sting of all the Lord Smithtons in the room, their disdainful sniffs and pointed looks a reminder that his heritage was not what theirs was. Even though his father was probably more of a real father to him than these legitimately born aristocrats who sent their children away as soon as was convenient. Even though he couldn’t give his son the benefit of his last name.

“It’s not right,” she said, so fiercely he would have sworn she’d thumped his chest with her words. “It’s not right, and I will not have it.” She raised her chin and looked around the room, a challenge in her gaze. As though she was his own Boadicea determined to fight.

It was endearing, even if it was unwarranted and likely to be fruitless. The only possible way he could ever be fully accepted into Society would be if Queen Victoria kissed him openmouthed in front of all the best families, and he didn’t think that would be happening. Even without the threat of a punch from Prince Albert.

But it wasn’t worth the bother of explaining it to her, the subtle ways people would indicate their displeasure at his presence, the insidious feelings of being less worthy than someone whose parents were married to one another.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Perhaps we should look for your sister?”

“Yes, but do not think I will forget, Mr. Wolcott,” she said, now looking directly at him. He blinked at how . . . intense her expression was, full of that fire and spark he’d noticed before, but now her anger was not, thankfully, directed at him.

“I could not imagine how I would possibly think that, my lady,” he said, beginning to walk her through the crowd again.

Oddly enough, he believed her, if only because of her burning fierceness. He had no doubt she would pick up his cause as she had that child’s on the London street.

“Oh, there she is,” Lady Olivia said in a grateful tone, walking more quickly now. She looked up at him, her face showing the strain of maintaining a cool fa?ade. “I must go see her at once,” she continued, dipping into a curtsey. “Thank you for your help,” she murmured, before slipping away toward another young lady standing in the corner right near a large plant.

“You’re welcome,” Edward replied, but she was already out of earshot.

He shook his head, feeling as though he’d been blasted by some force of nature, and returned to where Bennett appeared to be under siege by older lords and desperate debutantes all at once.



“You did what?” Pearl asked, perched on the end of Olivia’s bed, her mouth dropped open.

“Don’t act so shocked. You’ve known me since I was born,” Olivia said, wanting to shift in her embarrassment, but forcing herself to stay still so Pearl wouldn’t know.

“I’m your twin—that makes sense,” Pearl replied in a dry tone of voice. “Though right now I am grateful we are not identical.”

Olivia waved her hand airily. “You know what I mean. Of course I was going to tell him how I felt. I thought he felt the same.” And she had, truly, until that moment when he’d told her, categorically, that he did not. She’d assumed he just hadn’t recognized his own feelings, but that when she showed hers to him he would reciprocate.

She was so terribly wrong. It hurt. It stung, even, a painful barb that felt lodged in her throat and her heart. She’d never felt so much agony before, but she wasn’t surprised it hadn’t flattened her entirely. That wasn’t who she was. She was not going to give up. She would just have to try harder.