Last Night's Scandal by Loretta Chase

forget, as they usually do. But they’re even more adamant today than they were yesterday about that dratted castle. Father will only extend funds for me to undertake their restoration fantasy.”
    “I can imagine what he’s thinking,” she said. “He thinks you’ll become involved in the project, and transfer your passion to it.”
    His heart raced guiltily. “My passion?” he said.
    “Your parents are jealous of Egypt,” she said. “They don’t understand the difference between an old castle and ancient monuments. It’s all ‘old’ to them.” He wouldn’t have called Egypt a passion, but Olivia would, and perhaps, after all, what he felt for the place and his work there was a sort of passion.
    She understood so well, sometimes better than he did. But then, she was a DeLucey, and they’d survived for so many generations because they were adept at reading people and manipulating them.
    “I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t think of using the purse strings before,” he said.
    “If they had, Lord Rathbourne would have paid your way,” she said.
    “Your stepfather’s done more than enough for me,” Lisle said. “He has you and your sisters and brothers to think of now.”
    “I would give you my money,” she said. “You know I would.”
    “That would be monstrous improper,” he said. “I’m glad it’s not possible.” Her funds, he knew, had been very carefully tied up, to protect her not only from fortune hunters but from herself. She was a strange mixture of contradictions: her mind calculating and her heart generous. Her leaping to the ragamuffin’s defense yesterday was typical.
    She drew nearer and put out her gloved hand to touch his. “I won’t let you be trapped here,” she said. “We’ll think of something.”
    There it was, the gleam in her great blue eyes.
    “No, we won’t,” he said firmly.
    She was his friend and ally and confidante, but her impulsiveness, ethical blind spots, and fervent nature sometimes made his hair stand on end—he, who dealt daily with snakes, scorpions, crocodiles, thieves, cutthroats, and—worst of all—officials.
    To say her judgment was dubious at best was putting it very mildly, indeed.
    Nine years ago she’d lured him into a journey to Bristol on a hunt for a pirate’s treasure, of all things. That was one of her Ideas, with a capital I. It could have ended very badly for him—in a sadistic Scottish school, for instance—had Lord Rathbourne not intervened.
    Lisle knew very well that his journeying to Egypt instead was entirely thanks to Rathbourne. Lisle knew, too, that one couldn’t rely on miracles. Furthermore, he was a man now, not a boy. He couldn’t expect and didn’t want friends and relatives to get him out of every difficulty.
    “No, Lisle, you must listen,” she said eagerly. “I have the most wonderful Idea.” Olivia with an Idea.
    A prospect to strike terror into the heart of any man with a modicum of intelligence and any sense of self-preservation.
    “No Ideas,” he said. “Not on any account.”
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    “Let’s go to Scotland,” she said. “Together.”
    H er heart pounded so hard it must be audible at Kensington Palace. She’d been thinking about the castle in Scotland since Saturday.
    “Have you lost your mind?” he said.
    “I knew you’d say that,” she said.
    “I’m not going to Scotland.”
    “But we’ll go together ,” she said. “It’ll be fun. An adventure.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We’re not children anymore. Even you can’t get away with going to Scotland with a man. Your parents will never approve.”
    “They don’t have to know.”
    His grey eyes widened. “Olivia.”
    “Tomorrow morning they’re leaving for Derbyshire,” she said. “I’m staying in London with Great-Grandmama.”
    He looked away. “This grows worse by the minute.”
    “I’ve thought it through,”