Do not just go out with no plan; always have a plan, even if your plan is to dazzle onlookers. The plan is the plan.
Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Decorum
“Good afternoon,” Lady Olivia called to Edward. He spun around to see three of the duke’s daughters stepping out of a grand carriage.
Lady Ida nodded at him, then sped up the stairs to enter the house, leaving her sisters outside.
Where Lady Ida was wearing some sort of drab utilitarian clothing, both Lady Olivia and Lady Pearl were faultlessly attired in gowns that made them look like a baker had been spinning sugar, not stopping until he’d created these two.
Their gowns had the requisite amount of lace and frills, but where many ladies looked like overdressed confections, these two were just gloriously and perfectly feminine.
Even though he had a strong preference for one of the two. He had to say that both ladies were lovely.
Edward hadn’t been able to keep himself inside while waiting for the ladies. It just felt so unlike him to sit and wait for something. Usually he went out and got it—whether in business, horses, or hunting—so he felt edgy and restless while staring at the clock.
Standing and waiting was preferable to sitting and waiting, even if neither was preferable at all. But now they had arrived, so he didn’t have to wait any longer.
“This is the carriage?” Lady Olivia asked, running her fingers along the rail that ran outside. The carriage was one of four that Edward’s father had purchased when the two of them arrived in London; it looked as though it had just come from the coachbuilder, and sparkled nearly as brightly as Olivia’s smile.
And when had he come to think of her as just plain Olivia? Even though there was nothing plain about her.
“It is.” Edward noticed how Olivia’s sister nearly rolled her eyes. At her sister’s obvious statement or his obvious confirmation of the obvious? He didn’t know, but now he felt foolish.
Again, not something he had ever really felt before. Olivia was playing havoc with his emotions as well as attempting to play havoc with his social and marital status.
“If I may?” Edward said, holding his hand out to Lady Pearl. She smiled in return, a genuine smile that lit up her whole face. Like her twin, she had light hair, but it was darker than Olivia’s blond; her eyes were also darker, and she had freckles dotting her nose, making her look entirely adorable. The two looked similar, but not identical. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to constantly be wondering which twin he was speaking to. As though he could mistake Olivia’s sparkling passion for anyone else, he smiled to himself.
The duke’s daughters all seemed to be breathtaking in their own individual ways.
But only one of them made him feel completely and totally alive, as though she’d set fire to his insides, even though he had to admit that sounded entirely unpleasant. But the reality was not; she made him feel the way he did after a particularly satisfying hunt, or when he was in the boxing ring, or doing any kind of physical pursuit.
It was as though she had awoken an animal inside him, one that wanted to exist in a purely visceral way. Even if he was supposed to be behaving like an absolute gentleman.
Dear lord, he was in so much trouble. And yet he couldn’t help but look forward to getting into more.
Lady Pearl settled herself on the seat, and Edward held his hand out to Olivia, anticipating what it would feel like when her fingers were in his.
They were both wearing gloves, of course, but he could have sworn, when she took his hand, that there was nothing but skin between them.
“I think we should go first to Hyde Park,” Olivia said as she smoothed her gown at her waist. The feathers and ribbons on her bonnet fluttered as she spoke, moving with each nod of her head. “The best people go there, and so should we.”
Edward swung himself up into the seat on the opposite side, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.
“Drive on, Clark,” he said, speaking to the coachman. “Hyde Park, if you please.”
The carriage was open, suitable only for a few days of the year in England. All the other days it would be too cold, too rainy, or just too cloudy to enjoy.
But today, this extravagant, ridiculous contraption was perfect.
The seats were upholstered in cream-colored leather, with gold buttons anchoring them down. The outside of the carriage was a rich mahogany color, trimmed with a lighter wood rail running all the way around.
The horses were equally matched in splendor, all four bay-colored with black manes and tails.
Edward leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on his face. It was a sunny day, a rarity in London, and he felt both full of care and carefree, if such a dichotomy could be true.
Which of course it couldn’t. But it seemed that ever since he’d met Olivia—that is, Lady Olivia—he’d been pulled between wanting to argue furiously with her and wanting to kiss her just as passionately.
“Mr. Wolcott.”
Her voice was firm, as it always was.
Edward opened one eye and lowered his chin so he could look at her, opening the other eye as he did. “What is it, Lady Olivia?”
She made a frantic gesture in the air, her expression one of displeasure. “Shouldn’t we be discussing things? You’re supposed to be asking us how we are enjoying our time in London. And we are supposed to ask you how you find London Society compares to—where do you come from, anyway?”
She looked so outraged at him he wanted to laugh. Whether she was outraged because he was being, in her eyes, impolite, or because she was livid she didn’t have all the answers—namely, where he came from—he couldn’t say. Likely it was everything, since it was clear Olivia was a woman who wanted to be in control of everything and have all the answers.
What would it look like if she were out of control?
The thought made him shift in his seat. He should not be having such thoughts about her. She was as interested in him as she was in his coachman, although his coachman was likely born of a legitimate union. So perhaps she thought less of him.
“I come from Manchester. My father settled there when he was just starting his empire.”
“Oh, and your moth—? Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide.
“My mother, as you might have heard, was the daughter of a large landowner there. They were hoping to marry, but my father was too poor to support them. Her father forbade it. Then I came along, and she died.” He shrugged, as though his story didn’t matter. Even though of course it did. It had shaped his life, after all.
He wished he could have met his mother, just once. According to his father, his mother had been able to hold him for a few hours after his birth, but then something had gone wrong. And then things had gone even more wrong as his maternal grandfather tried to dump him at an orphanage. It was only due to his father’s perseverance and ability to stand up for what he believed in that saved Edward from having no family at all.
His father’s perseverance had helped with his business success as well.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” Olivia said in a much quieter voice. Pearl nodded in agreement, her eyes bright.
“Thank you. I am very lucky Mr. Beechcroft wanted me. He rescued me from being sent to an orphanage.” His father had had to pay Edward’s grandfather for the privilege of taking his bastard child, even though it depleted all of Mr. Beechcroft’s savings, money he’d been saving for his marriage and to make his way in business.
That fact never failed to make Edward furious, a bitter feeling rising up in his throat at the thought.
He’d never met his grandfather. Nor would he, even though the man lived in the next town over still; how could he meet someone who’d been willing to turn an infant over to an orphanage rather than to his parent?
“Oh my goodness,” Olivia said. She reached her hand out as though to touch him, and he felt himself lean toward her, only to snap back when he realized what he was doing. What she was doing.
He didn’t know what he’d do if she touched him.
Although parts of his body knew what they wanted him to do.
Which was absolutely why she should never touch him.
“Thank you,” he said, turning his head to look anywhere but at her. At her vivacity, at her sympathy, at how much he craved her spark. “I haven’t ever known what it was like to have a mother, so I can’t say I grew up missing anything. My father did his best to fill whatever gap I might have felt.”
“And he never married?” Lady Pearl asked, her tone soft.
Edward shook his head. “I asked him about that once when I was small. He told me he didn’t think he could love anybody as he did my mother, nor could he love anybody as much as he did me.” Edward felt his lips twist into a half smile. “I think he said it to make me feel at ease in my situation, but I also think it was the truth.”
Olivia tried to calm herself as they drove toward the park. His story shouldn’t have affected her so; she’d heard it before, as soon as word spread that Mr. Beechcroft was being bold enough to bring his illegitimate son with him to London. That the businessman had brought his son into his business so completely that it was impossible for any person doing business with Beechcroft and Son to avoid meeting Mr. Wolcott.
And since everyone—at least all the gentlemen—did business with Beechcroft and Son, Mr. Wolcott’s story was well-known. It must have cost Mr. Beechcroft some business to acknowledge his natural son. It spoke to Mr. Beechcroft’s business acumen that he was so wealthy now. Even her father the duke conducted business with Mr. Beechcroft, and her father was averse to any kind of risk, either when it came to his finances or his family.
But she’d only heard gossip and rumors before. Hearing the story from him made her heart hurt. How he set his jaw and relayed the facts as though they didn’t matter. As though it wasn’t an infant’s future that was affected by a father’s love, as though Mr. Wolcott wouldn’t have grown up alone with no one to care for him, had his father been less determined and less wealthy.
Her throat tightened. She was accustomed to feeling this way when she encountered some of the people affected by her charitable work. But those people were so far removed from her in life; it was as though they weren’t of her kind. Which of course they weren’t; she was the daughter of a duke, not a penniless child left to fend for itself.
A disconcerting thought crossed her mind: what if those other individuals were just as much people as Mr. Wolcott here? Had strong emotions and intelligence and the ability to do things, if given the opportunity? What would the world look like then?
Dear lord, she didn’t know if her heart could take it.
“Olivia?”
Pearl’s voice, and nudge to the shoulder, snapped her out of her thoughts, thank God.
“What?” she said in a snappish voice, then shook her head in apology. “I am sorry, I was thinking about something. What is it, Pearl?”
“Mr. Wolcott is wondering just where in the park we should go. To see and be seen.”
“Oh yes.” Olivia glanced around, startled to see they were already in the park. How long had she been thinking? That never happened.
Well, she did think, of course, but not so intently.
It was all his fault.
“I believe we should go just over there and then get out and walk a ways. Perhaps feed some of the ducks.”
“Because duck feeding is conducive to getting accepted into Society?”
She bristled at his sarcastic tone. Although it did sound ridiculous.
How many things that she said could be thought of as ridiculous? Was that why Pearl was continually rolling her eyes? And pointing out what she’d said?
“It is.” She couldn’t waste time on trying to parse out what might or might not be ridiculous. She had a goal. An agenda, and a time in which to accomplish it.
If it meant that he thought she was foolish, well—well, he likely already thought that, given how they’d met. She winced as she recalled picking up the objet d’art and hurling it toward the opposite wall. What if she’d struck him? What if she’d struck Bennett?
And why was the thought of striking Bennett coming as an afterthought to her image of striking him?
It had to be those rakish curls, she thought to herself.
“Park right over there, Clark,” Mr. Wolcott said to his coachman. His eyebrow was still raised in skeptical disbelief, but at least he hadn’t said they couldn’t try her plan.
She really did not like it when people refused to even try her plans. Pearl had refused more often than she had agreed, and it was only because Pearl was her twin that Olivia hadn’t stopped talking to her.
That, plus Pearl was her closest confidante, and the one person upon whom Olivia could depend.
“Toss it farther out, Mr. Wolcott.”
Olivia stood beside him, her shoulder nudging his arm as she pointed to the middle of the pond. “Do you see? That big one keeps getting all the food, and it’s not fair.” Her voice rang with righteous anger, and he had to suppress a smile.
Her sister had apparently bored long since, and was now sitting on a bench several feet away, her head bent as she worked on some sort of sewing project. It seemed odd to Edward, but perhaps that was what aristocratic ladies did—go out of doors and do needlework.
He’d have to ask Olivia when she wasn’t so riled up about the inequity of duck feeding.
He stretched forward and arced a piece of bread past where the greedy duck swam about, landing just in front of the one Olivia was championing.
The duck fluttered in the water and snatched the bread, gobbling it down even as the greedy duck whirled about in the water in an attempt to get the food.
“You bully!” Olivia had grabbed his arm and was leaning forward herself, her bonnet shielding her face from his view. “It’s not fair to take all the food.” She turned her head to him. “It’s not right.” He was startled to see her expression—pained and serious, as though the duck was responsible for all the inequity in the world.
“It’s fine, Olivia.” He placed his hand over hers, which still rested on his arm. “We took care of that duck. See?” He pointed over her head to where the now-fed duck was swimming, dipping its head in the water and wriggling its tail feathers. “It’s fine,” he said again.
She looked at him, wide-eyed, as though she didn’t fully comprehend what he was saying. And then she blinked and smiled, and he lost his thoughts also.
She was so pretty. Breathtaking, actually, especially when she was passionate about something. Which appeared to be most of the time.
“Thank you.”
He felt himself lean toward her, his gaze fixed on her mouth, only to jerk back suddenly as he realized what he’d been about to do. Kiss her. Kiss Lady Olivia, in public, in front of her sister and most of polite Society. Kiss the woman who was in love with his best friend.
He could not have conjured up a speedier way to being drummed out of Society completely than if he had completed his action.
She stared back at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Did she know what he wanted to do? What would she have done if he had kissed her?
He’d never know. He couldn’t ever find out.
Instead, he removed her hand from his arm, reaching down to pick up more bread. An excuse, of course, but it worked to snap him out of the moment.
“Yes, well, thank you for making sure that duck got its fair share.”
Her voice was soft. Was it his imagination or was it also a bit shaky?
“Over there.” She’d grabbed his arm again and was nodding vigorously, the festoons on her bonnet coming perilously close to his eyes. “That is Lady Cecilia Baxford and her father, Lord Baxford. We should make sure they see us.” She let go of him to lift her arm and wave, her whole body shaking with the effort.
She never did things by halves, did she? She was just as upset about the ducks as she was about his position in Society. Did that make him feel more or less special?
“They’ve seen us, they’re coming over.”
He turned to see a young lady and an older man stepping carefully on the path toward them. Lady Cecilia’s face froze as she looked at Edward, and he found his hands curling into fists at his side.
“Calm down,” she whispered, her fingers sliding into his, bringing both of their hands behind his back so Lady Cecilia and her father couldn’t see.
It felt delicious, something they were doing that nobody could see. It did calm him, as she’d intended. But it also made him aware of how right it felt to have her hand in his.
He reluctantly drew his fingers out from hers as she stepped forward to greet the new arrivals.
“Lady Cecilia, how delightful to see you. And Lord Baxford, you are looking well. Allow me to introduce Mr. Wolcott, who has just arrived in London.”
Edward caught his breath as he saw the older gentleman realize just who he was and weigh whether or not he should shake his hand.
And exhaled as Lord Baxford stretched his hand out and took Edward’s, giving it a weak shake, but a shake nonetheless.
“It is a pleasure, my lady,” Lord Baxford said.
“I did not realize you were acquainted with Mr. Wolcott, Lady Olivia,” Lady Cecilia said. Was it Edward’s imagination, or was her tone somewhat snide?
“But then again your family knows such . . . interesting people.”
Not his imagination.
“Yes, we do, don’t we?” Olivia replied in a bright tone, as though completely unaware of the other lady’s implication. “It is far better to be interesting than entirely predictable, wouldn’t you say?”
And not completely unaware, it seemed. Edward wished it wouldn’t be entirely rude to tilt his head back and roar with laughter.
As it was, he must have made some sort of amused sound, since Olivia shifted so she could deliver a kick to his foot.
“We’ve been feeding the ducks,” Olivia continued, gesturing to the pond behind them. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it, that certain ducks get more food than others simply because of their position in the pond?”
Edward didn’t think they were talking about ducks now.
“Eh?” Lord Baxford’s expression was puzzled. “Ducks?”
“Ducks, Father.” Lady Cecilia took her father’s arm. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wolcott.”
“Likewise, my lady. My lord,” Edward said, tilting his head toward the pair. “I will doubtless be seeing you at some event or another. I hope I might be allowed to ask for a dance, my lady?”
There. That was as polite in Society as he could get. He just hoped she wouldn’t say no.
“Mr. Wolcott is a good friend of Lord Carson’s,” Olivia added in the silence following his question.
Lady Cecilia pulled her lips back into a semblance of a smile. Edward had to wonder why Olivia had even bothered with the Baxfords, since it was clear the two ladies did not like one another. “Lord Carson is a fine gentleman,” she said. “I would be pleased to accept your invitation, Mr. Wolcott.” She dipped her head in a gracious nod, then walked away on her father’s arm.
“That . . . that . . .” Olivia sputtered next to him.
“Greedy duck?” Edward supplied.
She glared at him, then grinned and burst out in laughter, clapping her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing merrily.
He returned the grin, shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to take her in his arms and kiss her laughing mouth.
Even though he was very tempted, so his hands-in-pocket ploy wasn’t working. But at least he wasn’t acting on his wishes.