To Sin With A Scoundrel by Cara Elliott Page B

verses as ‘There once was a lady from Exeter, so pretty that men craned their necks at her.
     One was even so brave as to take out and wave the distinguishing mark of his sex at her.’” Lady Ariel paused. “Do you know
     any more?”
    “Lots. But most are even more improper to repeat in front of a lady.”
    “Then come stand
beside
me, Lord Hadley. At my advanced age, I find there is little that shocks me. Besides, I am a scientist, and as such, I like
     to keep an open mind about things.”
    Perhaps all was not lost, thought Lucas.
    “Alas,” sighed Lady Becton, “I am going to have to take my leave, just when things are getting interesting. I see Lord Highstreet
     has cornered Mr. Battell, and if I don’t intervene, they may come to blows over whether Beethoven’s music ought to be banned
     in polite society.”
    Lucas smiled. “And here I thought intellectual gatherings were staid affairs.”
    “Oh, you wouldn’t believe some of the things that go on,” replied Ariel. “I know for a fact that when scholars roll out the
     guns, they can make the Battle of Trafalgar look like a yachting regatta.”
    He cleared his throat and decided to test the waters. “Lady Becton mentioned you have quite a keen interest in science.”
    “Very much so. In fact, I belong to a small circle of learned ladies who meet every week to discuss a wide range of fascinating
     topics.”
    Including a certain Italian sex manual.
Lucas wondered whether they considered the subject of its contents biology. Or physics.
    “Indeed,” he murmured politely. “I believe our hostess said something of the sort, and that your sister is a member, along
     with Marchesa della Giamatti and the Duke of Clyne’s granddaughter.”
    “And the Marchioness of Sheffield,” added Ariel.
    “Ah, yes. The chemistry expert.” He signaled to a passing footman for two glasses of champagne. “Seeing as she is not here,
     I assume the wine is safe to drink.”
    The thick lenses magnified the flash of indignation in her eyes. “Really, sir, Ciara is a
very
serious-minded scholar, sir. Her work—and every other thing about her—is above reproach.”
    “I did not mean to make light of the matter. The truth is, my uncle, Sir Henry Phelps, shares your good opinion.” Lucas hesitated
     and then made up his mind to take the plunge. There was nothing to lose in trying to win over the elderly lady. He had a feeling
     that she could be a powerful ally, despite her diminutive size.
    “In fact, he was quite anxious to engage Lady Sheffield’s expertise regarding an ancient medical manuscript he recently discovered.
     But alas…” He exaggerated a sigh. “She refused.”
    Ariel’s brow furrowed. “Refused? That does not sound at all like Ciara. She is exceedingly generous in sharing her knowledge
     with other scientists. We have all read your uncle’s essays and have a high regard for his scholarship.”
    “Apparently that opinion does not extend to me, the messenger. Lady Sheffield turned me down flat. Wouldn’t even take a look
     at it.” Lucas took a small swallow of his wine. “A pity. My uncle suspects it is a long-lost work by some Greek fellow with
     a funny name. Hippo… Hippo… potamus?”
    Ariel sucked in a breath.
“Hippocrates?”
    “Yes, that sounds about right. Not that I can tell one from the other.” Was he going a bit overboard on the theatrics? Doing
     things to excess was, he knew, a real weakness in his character.
    “A lost manuscript by Hippocrates?” she mused. “Hmmm. Let me have a word with Ciara at our next meeting. I may be able to
     help.”
    “I would be extremely grateful,” said Lucas. “And if there is any favor I might do for you in return, Lady Ariel, you have
     only to name it.”
    She flexed her frail fingers. “Would that you could thrash the stuffing out of that nasty writer for the
Morning Gazette
. You know, the one who pens the gossip columns.”
    “Don’t tell me you’ve been a naughty girl.”