“Good evening, Lord Carson.” It was her again, the lady who practically vibrated she was so alive. Edward felt his skin prickle as though she’d touched him.

“And good evening, Mr. Wolcott,” she added with a bright smile directed squarely at him.

It was a hefty weapon, her smile. At least to him. He felt flattened by it, aware of what she thought of him but still unable to keep himself from feeling more intrigued and interested by her.

“Good evening, Lady Olivia,” Bennett replied in his usual charming tone. As though the lady hadn’t offered him a marriage proposal the previous evening, which he’d firmly rejected.

Edward had to admire his friend’s aplomb.

“Good evening,” he echoed, bowing.

“I am glad you are both here,” Lady Olivia said, shifting her gaze from Edward to Bennett and back again. “I have something I wish to say to both of you.” Edward’s unease grew; what knowledge was this unexpected woman about to impart? Judging by the pleased expression on her face, it was something that brought her pleasure. But since the only time he’d heard her speak her mind it was to announce that she and Bennett shared mutual feelings for one another—well, he did not trust her to know what would bring happiness to anyone.

“What is it?” Bennett sounded as wary as Edward felt. His aplomb had deserted him, no doubt scurrying away to regroup after feeling the force of her personality.

“Well,” she replied, beaming in satisfaction. “I have thought of something I can do to help your situation.”

“What situation?” Edward blurted out. She gave him a reproving look.

“The situation of your acceptance into Society, Mr. Wolcott, since you asked,” she replied. Sounding as though she were delivering a lecture, not speaking in conversation. “I know there are many who would snub you for the circumstances of your birth,” she began, her cheeks coloring as she spoke. Because she had snubbed him herself? Even called him a bastard?

“And it is my duty to ensure you are fully accepted by everyone whom you might meet.” She gave a firm nod as she finished speaking. As though what she had said would be done merely because she had said it.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Edward said. Bennett shot him a look, which he ignored. He needed to tell this insufferable, vibrantly blazing woman that it wasn’t that easy, despite how simple she made it sound.

He also had to admit to not wanting to see her hopes crushed so soon after having them crushed by his best friend. If she knew how hard it would be, she would be better prepared for when she failed.

“You can’t just bestow a few smiles and dances on me, introduce me to your friends and family, and expect that everyone will be absolutely fine with the circumstances of my birth. It doesn’t work that way,” he repeated, realizing that now he was vibrating, but with anger.

Not necessarily at her, but because of the entire situation. How was it possible that a piece of paper could stand in the way of his being accepted? Of making friends? Of finding a bride?

Of pleasing his father?

Lady Olivia lifted her chin, a fiery, determined look in her eye. The one he was coming to both dread and admire. “But, Mr. Wolcott, here is the thing. I am the Duke of Marymount’s daughter. I have successfully helped a wide variety of people and causes—”

“Such as?” Edward interrupted.

Her color heightened, and she glared at him as much as a young lady at a polite Society party could. “I am on the committee for the Society for Poor and Orphaned Children, I am a strong supporter of mothers’ rights, and I do not back down from something I see as wrong.”

He’d want to laugh if she weren’t absolutely serious. “You are saying that because you have shown up at some meetings and possibly spoken out—shocking some people, I’m sure—that you can force my acceptance into the most entrenched company?”

Her mouth opened as Bennett stepped between them, putting his hand on Edward’s arm. Edward hadn’t realized he was only a few inches away from her, close enough to see the golden lights in her hazel eyes, close enough to kiss.

Not that he wanted to do that. Not at all. He was furious with her—wasn’t he?

“I might have a solution,” Bennett said in his calm, arguing-a-bill-in-the-House-of-Commons voice.

Edward turned to regard Bennett with one brow raised. “What do you suggest?” he asked. Was this Bennett’s distraction plan? The one that would keep the lady from proposing again and Edward from losing his temper? Even though he’d found himself nearly as amused as he was frustrated, which was different from usual. Normally he just growled inside his head, but at least now he wanted to laugh also.

She was still looking at him, her cheeks flushed red, her lush mouth set into a firm line. As though she had much more to say but was being polite.

“Well,” Bennett began, gesturing between them. “Edward, you have a situation, one that requires you to be accepted by Society.”

He was not going to—

“Which is that your father has made it clear he wishes you to marry someone deserving of you. Someone of gentle breeding and good stock.”

He was. Now who was the bastard?

“You’re not saying she—and I,” Edward sputtered, gesturing between them.

She looked more startled than he felt, which was saying something.

“No,” Bennett said hurriedly. “Not that. Just that if it were to be seen that Lady Olivia found favor with you, perhaps it would be easier for you to find a lady who would suit. And,” he continued, turning to Lady Olivia, “I believe there is no better person who could assist my good friend in finding a wife.”

Lady Olivia’s expression changed from horror to relief. Edward wished that didn’t bother him quite so much.

“Oh, what a splendid idea!” she said, smiling. Her whole face was lit, her eyes wide and excited. Her lips shaped into a perfect O of delight, making Edward lose his focus for a moment.

What would it be like to kiss that mouth? Those rosy lips that seemed to be so bitable?

Although he knew full well that was not at all in the lady’s thoughts, given her reaction to even the possibility of marrying him.

She took his arm, nodding to Bennett at the same time. “If you do not mind, Lord Carson, I will whisk your friend away so we can discuss this further in private. Thank you so much for bringing us together.”

Edward couldn’t help but notice Bennett’s look of smug satisfaction as Olivia steered him toward two chairs at the edge of the ballroom.

Olivia tried to calm her breathing, but for once she was not in control. Not of her breath, her future, or of how she felt when she was in Mr. Wolcott’s presence.

As he had been the first evening she had seen him, he was dressed impeccably, all of his clothing obviously tailored precisely to his admittedly attractive body.

She was surprised he didn’t tip over because his shoulders were so wide and his waist and hips were so lean. If she had paid more attention to her governess when she was discussing maths and gravity and other things that made no sense to Olivia, perhaps she could have understood it better.

As it was, she just had admiration for the entire presentation of him.

And now he was one of her official projects, perhaps the most important project of her life: if she were to get him accepted into Society and find him a bride, Bennett would finally see she was the wife he was meant to have.

So it was terribly vital that she not get distracted by pondering the strength of his arms. Or how his dark curls made him look like a rakish devil. Or how his legs were so long his tailor must have charged him more for his trousers.

But from what she knew, Mr. Wolcott could well afford it, given who his father was.

Olivia nodded to Mr. Wolcott to sit as she was sitting down on one of the chairs. “Please get comfortable, Mr. Wolcott. I will have several questions for you.”

She regretted that her small evening purse couldn’t accommodate a notebook and pencil so she could jot down what he said. She’d just have to try to remember.

“I appreciate your interest, my lady,” he said, grimacing as he spoke. As though he did not appreciate her interest. “But there is no need for you to concern yourself with—with any of this,” he said, gesticulating toward where the party-goers danced and chatted on, unaware that there was a great miscarriage of justice in their midst.

“But I am concerned, sir,” Olivia replied, edging her chair toward his in her enthusiasm. “I cannot stand by while there is someone who is in need of my help.” She tried to forget that she herself had been guilty of miscarrying justice when it came to this particular man—after all, she’d been upset by what Bennett had said. How they would all laugh together when it was settled and she and Bennett were married, and Mr. Wolcott had found a bride of his own.

She smiled to herself at the thought.

“You often come to people’s rescue, then?” Mr. Wolcott said in a milder tone. It seemed as if he were actually curious, which warmed her heart. And made her realize how few of the people she spoke to seemed to show interest in anything she championed. Except for Pearl, but it was part of being a twin to show interest in things.

“I do.” She took a deep breath, wishing she wasn’t in a constricting evening gown. What if she were called upon to right a wrong? A wrong that required freedom of movement?

She would have to decline because she was elegantly garbed. Not really the type of excuse she would stand for from anyone else, let alone herself.

“I will not allow anyone to suffer because I did not do something, you see, Mr. Wolcott,” she explained. “I am fortunate enough to have been born to wealth and privilege. It is my duty to use that position to help those who are less fortunate than I.”

“And if they do not want your help?”

The words cut uncomfortably close to what Pearl had said: These are men you are dealing with, not unfed orphans or gentlewomen who just need a bit of embroidery to brighten their day.

“I . . .” she began, only to realize she had no idea what to do if someone didn’t want her help. She did not think it had happened in the time since she had become aware of injustice, and things that needed doing. By her.

Speaking of which, she had seven shifts to make before the end of the month. And now she had to find Mr. Wolcott a bride. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Mr. Wolcott was attractive, no matter his birth.

Plus Pearl was quite good at sewing, so she would likely be able to assist.

“The situation has not come up,” she said firmly. Ignoring the image of Pearl’s raised brow in her mind.

“Of course not.” Was he laughing at her? How dare he? He was just a—well, no, she couldn’t think of him that way, not if he was to be her project. Her mission.

“But tell me,” she began, hoping she hadn’t revealed her thoughts on her face, “what are your most important attributes for a bride?”

She settled back in her chair, clasping her hands in her lap, her eyes focused on him. On that unruly hair that curled down over one eye, giving him an almost piratical look. On how, although he was seated, he looked like he was still moving, even though he was still. As though he was an arrow waiting to be shot straight into someone’s heart.

Not hers, of course. And speaking of hearts, he hadn’t answered, even though she had given him plenty of opportunity.

“Well?” she demanded, tilting her head to look at him pointedly. “You were going to say?”

Damn, but she was likely the most managing female he’d ever met. Not that he’d met that many; the women in his father’s household were servants, and he rarely interacted with them. The women he chose for more pleasurable pursuits seldom argued with what he wanted to do to them, since they seemed to enjoy it so much.

But still. He wondered if she would be just as authoritative in more intimate circumstances. He grinned to himself as he imagined it—caress my breast more slowly, Mr. Wolcott—then swiftly smoothed his expression so she wouldn’t demand to know what he was thinking of.

What had she asked, anyway?

Oh, of course. The kind of woman he wanted for a bride.

He couldn’t tell her the first thought that came into his mind—one who was of respectable enough breeding to please his father, but not so aristocratic that she would spend the rest of her life looking down on her husband.

He didn’t think such a woman existed anyway.

“The type of woman I desire,” he said, mostly to buy himself some time to think of something to say. “She should be intelligent.” Because he could not be married to someone who wasn’t, although that might further limit his choice. “And interested in a variety of things so we have conversational topics to discuss in the evenings.”

She looked at him blankly.

And spoke after a moment. “Is that all you want, Mr. Wolcott?”

Is that all you want?

Well, he wished he could announce that he didn’t want any of it, that he would have to compromise something to find a lady who would marry him. Either she would be dimwitted enough to accept the bastard son of a merchant, or she would be so desperate that she would take marriage to him, which would mean that she hadn’t received any other offers.

It did not bode well for him. He returned her gaze, crossing his arms over his chest. He wished he could just stalk away from the conversation, leave her to her managing ways, watch as she tried to lure Bennett into—No, that wouldn’t be fair. Not to his friend, even though he had no doubt that Bennett could keep himself out of this woman’s thrall.

Although Edward had to ask why his friend was so determined.

“You’re asking me what I want in a wife, Lady Olivia, when you should be asking what it would take for a lady to marry me. I suggest,” Edward said, “that you compile a list of ladies whose families are in great need of funds. Those are the only types of ladies who would even deign to consider me as a suitor.” He took a deep breath. “And if any of those ladies are also intelligent and curious, you will have exceeded my expectations.”

Even as irritated as he was with her, and her questions, he couldn’t deny that she was deliciously attractive. Her eyes sparkled with a fierce intent, and she was breathing rapidly, likely in outrage, which made her breasts push up against the bodice of her gown. A gown that was exquisitely designed for her, with tiny puffed sleeves and an alluring edging of lace at her neckline that shifted as she moved, making his eyes leap to see if anything more would reveal itself.

Sadly, she was enough of a proper young woman that nothing did, but he couldn’t keep himself from looking.

He was nothing if not optimistic.

Only he absolutely wasn’t, he had to admit—from the first time he’d noticed he was treated differently from other boys until this very moment, he was suspicious and wary of everyone. Not without cause; this lady herself had called him a bastard before realizing he was acquainted with Bennett. It was only because she was hoping to impress Bennett that she was undertaking this mission to make him respectable in the first place.

“Intelligent and curious. That is what you want in a wife.” She sounded disappointed, and he felt a surge of anger rise up.

“I promise you, my lady, that even those requirements will be near impossible to fill.”

Her eyes glittered with determination. If only—

No, one of his conditions was that his wife not look down on him—at least not much—because of his birth. And Lady Olivia made it clear, with every raised eyebrow, each patronizing question, that she did look down on him. He might find her attractive, even alluring, but he would never consider marriage to her. She was too far above him, in her own mind as well as in reality, to waste a moment thinking of her that way.

Besides which, she believed herself to be in love with his closest friend.

“I have never failed when I have resolved to do something, Mr. Wolcott,” she announced. For a moment, he almost believed her. “Not only will I get you accepted properly into Society, I will find a suitable lady that you will be pleased to marry.”

He felt his lips curl up into a wry grin. “That is a lofty promise, my lady. I will give you a month.” He shrugged, feeling the weight of her gaze on his face. “If you can accomplish what you’ve promised in that time, I will—” what could he offer her? He couldn’t promise her Bennett. But he did have his wealth. “I will donate one thousand pounds to the charity of your choice.”

That would appeal both to her charitable interests and to her assumption that she would succeed at anything she was challenged to do.

She smiled in satisfaction and held her hand to him. “That is a bargain, Mr. Wolcott.”

As he took her slim hand in his and shook it to seal the deal, he found himself—oddly enough—looking forward to the next thirty days, whereas before he had been dreading it.

“You can start tomorrow,” Edward said, rising from his seat. If he was going to be presented as a respectable member of Society, he wanted to get good and drunk first. To forget for a moment who he was, and most important, what he was. The bastard son of an indulgent father who didn’t see the stings and barbs tossed toward Edward in myriad ways.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.