“Edward!”

Edward started as he heard his father’s voice. He’d been so engrossed in debating with Lady Olivia, he’d forgotten for a few moments about his father. It shouldn’t make him feel guilty—his father wouldn’t want that—but it did.

But she had thoroughly perplexed him and irked him and fascinated him. And she had made him laugh—when was the last time that had happened?

She and her silly list and her confident assertion that she could succeed where others had failed. He wondered whether Queen Victoria herself would be as regal as Lady Olivia.

He had to admire that, and he had to admire her. Even if he knew that the two of them would likely be at loggerheads during this entire month.

At the end of which he would not have a bride, nor would he be any more accepted into her world, despite what she thought.

But it would keep his father content, and that was more important than his feeling that his efforts were futile. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered except that Mr. Beechcroft’s wishes—Edward didn’t want to say final wishes—were honored.

And he would also be able to spend time with the most fascinating woman he’d ever met.

He would donate the thousand pounds to whatever cause she wished, no matter what happened; it was only money, he had plenty of it, and he knew whatever cause she championed was likely to be one that helped people less fortunate than she. Which was, barring the queen, everybody.

What must it be like to be the beloved child of a duke? To be accepted wherever she went, treated as though her opinions and presence were always welcome?

“Edward.” His father spoke more strongly now, jarring Edward entirely out of his baffling thoughts. Thank goodness.

His father had walked into the room, accompanied by Lady Ida, both of them looking companionable with one another.

“You did not mention we had visitors,” his father said, turning his warm smile to Lady Olivia. “And then I was in the library, and scared Lady Ida here.”

“I was not scared,” Lady Ida interrupted. “Merely startled.”

His father rolled his eyes at her, then chucked her under the chin. An action that seemed to startle Lady Ida even more. And again, Edward felt like laughing.

“And then we got to talking, and it seems Lady Ida has interests in some of the same things I have.”

“Even though some of his opinions are woefully behind the times,” Lady Ida said, but in an amused tone, not as though she was judging.

“So I asked her why she was here in the first place, and she told me her sister was visiting my son. You are Lady Olivia, I presume?”

His father strode up to her, holding his hand out for her to take.

She blinked, then allowed him to enfold her hand in his, offering him a curtsey as she did. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Beechcroft,” she said in a soft tone. Far softer than how she’d spoken to him, Edward noticed.

“Well, I knew we should not interrupt, but then Lady Ida said she had allowed you thirty minutes to discuss whatever it is you are discussing, which is . . . ?” And he trailed off, looking expectantly between Edward and Lady Olivia.

Judging by his expression, it was clear what Mr. Beechcroft thought they were discussing. Edward wanted to tell his father he was entirely and absolutely wrong about that—that Lady Olivia would never deign to even consider him as a suitor—but to mention it would be to hurt his father far more than allowing him to believe the lie would.

“We cannot share that, sir,” Lady Olivia said. “It is a secret until it is not.”

Now it was Lady Ida’s turn to roll her eyes. “Being the very definition of secret, after all.”

Lady Olivia dismissed her sister’s words with a wave of her hand. “Never mind that.” She looked at Edward. “So as we discussed, are you free to take me and my sister out for a carriage ride tomorrow?”

He wanted to laugh at the sheer brazenness of her. Of her assuming he would fall in with her plans just because she wished him to. Although that was what he was going to do, wasn’t it? It was far too amusing, and he liked looking at her too much, to deny himself the pleasure.

“I am not going on a carriage ride,” Lady Ida said.

“I meant Pearl, not you. I know you won’t do anything that isn’t sticking your nose in a book.”

“Which means you could return here tomorrow,” Mr. Beechcroft said in a delighted tone. “I want to ask your opinion of some books I’ve been thinking of rebinding. Whether they are worth the expense.”

Lady Ida smiled a smile of genuine pleasure, and Edward felt his mouth start to gape at how it changed her. She was beautiful, although he wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her. No doubt she thought that type of frivolity was beneath her.

“I would love to.”

“Well, that is settled then,” Lady Olivia said in satisfaction. “We will all come over here, Ida can stay while you take us out in your carriage. You do have a carriage, don’t you?”

“Of course we do,” Edward’s father replied. “We might have a few of them, actually. So you can decide which would be best to go out in.”

“That will be wonderful, but I will leave the choosing of the carriage up to Mr. Wolcott.” Lady Olivia’s expression as she looked at Edward appeared to indicate she had done him a great favor in allowing him to choose which carriage to use.

She really was the most managing female he’d ever encountered. And yet, somehow, he found it oddly endearing.

“Good afternoon, sir, Mr. Wolcott,” Lady Olivia said as she marched toward the door, sweeping her sister up with her as she left the room.

Mr. Beechcroft walked after them, but not before turning around with a broad grin for Edward, accompanying his smile with a wink, just in case Edward wasn’t clear enough about what his father thought was actually happening.

But if the ruse would keep his father content for a bit, he would continue it. And he would get to spend more time with the thoroughly sure of herself Lady Olivia.

Mr. Beechcroft reentered the room, rubbing his hands together and looking exceptionally pleased.

“Well, my boy, you have already begun to indulge your father’s last wish.”

Edward winced at his father’s words, although the tone in which they were spoken was nearly giddy with glee.

“I have just met Lady Olivia.” He turned away from his father, not able to look him in the eye and prevaricate, much less lie to his face. He’d just have to . . . lie by omission. “Bennett introduced us”—in a manner of speaking, if you count being awkwardly in the room while the lady proposed to his friend an introduction—“and she donates her time to various causes”—including mine—“so I wanted to ask her what effort was in the most need.”

And the answer to that was me, and my effort to find a place in this world that isn’t tainted with disdain. Oh, and find a wife while I’m at it.

“Very clever, my lad.” Edward heard the chair groan as his father sat. “Ladies have soft hearts, and if they think that a gentleman shares their concern—well, that is a good way to get them interested in you.”

“Yes.” Edward wished his father wasn’t so optimistic about nearly everything—about Edward’s place in the world, how people viewed both of them, that young titled ladies would even wish to be married to a bastard. It would make it so much easier to explain the truth when it came time for the truth to be explained.

“Maybe I won’t die after all,” his father continued, still in that same gleeful tone. “I want to be around to see what your children look like. I wonder if they will get your dark hair? Or take after their mother?”

“You are getting ahead of yourself, Father.” Edward turned back around and sat in the chair opposite his father. This, at least, he could say without letting his father know all of his assumptions were false.

“The lady and I have just met, as I said, and you would not want me to take the first offer on the table, would you? It is not good business after all.”

His father grinned, then laughed aloud. “You are my son, that is for certain. Viewing things in such a business-like fashion, even though this is the business of the heart we are concerned with now.”

Business of the heart. If only it were just a business and Edward could select what item he wished to own and then pay a certain sum of money to make the transaction.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Instead, he’d have to go on carriage rides and speak with people who disliked him on principle and pretend that it wasn’t ripping him apart inside that his father was dying.

He and Mr. Beechcroft both turned at the sound of footsteps outside in the entryway. The door flung open, and Lady Olivia stepped inside, a few strands of hair coming out from under her bonnet, which was a ridiculous concoction that made Edward wonder if it was deliberate on the part of the hatmaker to have it look like that.

“I forgot to mention that you would be receiving an invitation to dine with us later this week. Lord Carson and the marquis are coming, and it will be a small gathering. And of course you too, Mr. Beechcroft,” she added, even though Edward was fairly certain his father would not have been invited if he hadn’t been in the room at the time.

“Excellent, we will happily accept, won’t we, Edward?” his father said, rubbing his hands together again in what Edward knew was delight.

“Of course,” he replied, bowing toward Lady Olivia.

“Good. I will let my mother know.” And then she walked back out of the room, making it feel as though a light had been extinguished when she left.

“And I should go as well.” Edward’s father walked to the door, still smiling. “The duke and I have met, have done business together, but I have not yet been invited to his home. I have you to thank for that. And Lady Olivia, of course.” His smile turned into a grin.

If it made him this happy—well, he’d pretend to court Lady Olivia as much as was necessary. And that way she could work on her own plan. And he would just be happy to watch as she tried to do the impossible.

“He actually agreed to your plan?”

Olivia scowled at the skepticism in her sister’s voice.

“He did.” Even though he also expressed probably even more skepticism than what Pearl was showing when he questioned her.

It had to work. She had never failed at anything she had decided to do. Except get Bennett to admit he loves you and wants to marry you.

But that too would change as soon as he realized the truth of his feelings and that she had been able to help his friend in a way nobody else could. Then he would agree.

“And this is why we are going out with him for a carriage ride?” Pearl asked. “Not that I mind going out for a carriage ride, it is outside, after all. I just want to know what I am supposed to be doing.”

“Well, nothing really. We will nod and smile to everyone we know, and introduce Mr. Wolcott to our friends, and then they will see he is an ordinary person whom they should be pleased to call an acquaintance.”

“Isn’t that what Lord Carson has been doing all this time?”

Pearl was not helping. “You are not helping, Pearl.” She might as well be forthright about it.

Olivia took a deep breath, preparing to explain.

“Don’t bother trying to convince me.” Pearl spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “It is not as though you are going to, and I’ve already agreed to go on this carriage ride, so you don’t have to anyway. I just want to say that I think some of your causes are misguided.”

Olivia’s eyes went wide. “Misguided? Helping poor children and orphans is misguided?”

Pearl sighed, shaking her head. Making it appear as though she was decades wiser than her sister, even though they were twins. “It’s a good effort, Olivia. But if you don’t understand why something is happening, you can’t solve it. You can’t just go in and give them all shifts,” she said, holding up one of the garments she’d been working on, “and have them lead healthy, productive lives. There needs to be more to it.”

“What does that have to do with Mr. Wolcott?” Olivia asked, genuinely confused.

“Nothing.” Now Pearl just sounded tired. “It’s just that I worry about you, about your passion for things that might never change. About how you think you can change whatever you want, just because of who you are. One day you’ll find that not to be true, and it will be a revelation to you. But go ahead and parade Mr. Wolcott in the park. That is certain to get people talking about him.”

Pearl’s words stung, and Olivia sat back as she considered them. Her twin was remarkably and refreshingly honest, and she was often able to ferret out the truth of something before Olivia had. She was the one who’d initially told Olivia about the plight of the poor orphans, after all. That Olivia had seized on the society was due to Pearl as much to her own conscience.

“Misguided?” she repeated in a quieter tone.

Pearl put her sewing down in her lap to lean over and squeeze her sister’s hand. “Your heart is absolutely in the right place, Olivia. I just worry about you.”

Olivia felt her eyes start to tear, and she bit her lip in an effort not to cry. Sometimes she forgot that Pearl was just as sensitive as Olivia; she was quieter, and expressed her feelings very rarely, so her thoughts and emotions were easy to overlook.

“Thank you, Pearl. I will be fine. And all it means is that we get to ride in a carriage with a very attractive gentleman.” She gave a vigorous nod. “And if it means that some more people find his presence acceptable? Well, that will be a marvelous bonus.” She leaned forward and picked up one of the finished shifts. “Now, let us see how many more of these we can finish before the deadline.”

“You mean how many more I can finish,” Pearl said drily.