list?” Olivia asked.
Prudence rummaged through her reticule, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.
“You brought it with you?” Olivia asked, mildly appalled.
“I thought we might need it,” Prudence said with a smirk because she was right.
Emma snatched the list from her hand and read, “ ‘Keep the company of known rakehells and scoundrels.’ ”
“Well one can’t swing a cat in this ballroom without hitting one,” Prudence said.
“Yes, but speaking to one will be another matter entirely,” Olivia said with a sigh, remembering the vision of Mr. Middleton launching himself into a shrubbery to avoid her and her mother. For the remainder of the party he was pulling twigs and leaves from his hair.
“We’ll just have to get crafty with our methods,” Prudence declared with what could only be described as an evil grin. “I daresay, this party just got interesting. We have not one but two missions: avoid the Mad Baron at all costs whilst keeping the company of rakes and rogues. Let’s hope your mother brought her smelling salts this evening.”
R ogan had persuaded Phinn to attend the ball, as it would afford him the opportunity to steal a moment alone with Lady Olivia. Or possibly make the acquaintance of another woman who wouldn’t mind marriage to a notorious man with a dark past.
Very quickly it became clear that both were daunting prospects. Young ladies glanced at him appraisingly—and when they caught glimpse of the scar or realized who he was—they turned away. Finding this tremendously irritating, Phinn scowled mightily, which probably didn’t help matters.
Lady Archer proved to be another obstacle to his plans. In her clutches, he was introduced to at least half of the ton—all of whom acted as if the scandal with Nadia had happened last week instead of six years earlier. He noted the nervous glances, as if they expected him to commit some violent act right here in the ballroom.
Phinn was reminded why he’d avoided coming down to London. The machinery in his workshop in Yorkshire—once he’d rebuilt it after the fire—didn’t give a damn about his reputation or bother him with inane conversation.
If he were not so fixated upon finding Olivia, it might have tried his temper. His legendary Radcliffe temper. That would give them something to talk about.
He had spotted her earlier in the evening with her friends. By the time he and Lady Archer managed their way through the crowds, they were gone. Fled , if he wanted to be precise about it, which, being scientifically inclined, he couldn’t help but do.
Things had been different when they first met. Before she knew who he was, they had shared a connection that was too strong for him to give up on after one disastrous meeting. Being a science-minded man, he wasn’t about to quit his courtship and begin anew after one failed experiment. He’d make another attempt to discern if they were truly incompatible or if they’d just gotten off to a rocky start.
If only he could do so without Lady Archer.
“Do you see Olivia?” she asked, fanning herself and craning her neck trying to peer through the crowds.
“I do not,” he lied. She was standing in a crowd around the lemonade table. He recognized an opportunity. Turning to his future mother-in-law, he asked, “Perhaps you’d like to find a seat and I shall bring you a lemonade?”
Lady Archer thought that would be lovely.
Phinn made his way toward Olivia, his gaze fixed on her. She looked beautiful tonight. Her hair was in some arrangement with tendrils that emphasized her slender neck. She looked as she did the night he first set eyes upon her—simply lovely and innocent.
Nadia had been dark and wicked. In comparison, Olivia looked like sunshine and happiness.
A shorter, rounder girl with reddish hair stood beside her. He watched them whisper furiously to each other in the terrifying way only women could. What were they discussing? Phinn wasn’t sure he wanted to
Prudence rummaged through her reticule, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.
“You brought it with you?” Olivia asked, mildly appalled.
“I thought we might need it,” Prudence said with a smirk because she was right.
Emma snatched the list from her hand and read, “ ‘Keep the company of known rakehells and scoundrels.’ ”
“Well one can’t swing a cat in this ballroom without hitting one,” Prudence said.
“Yes, but speaking to one will be another matter entirely,” Olivia said with a sigh, remembering the vision of Mr. Middleton launching himself into a shrubbery to avoid her and her mother. For the remainder of the party he was pulling twigs and leaves from his hair.
“We’ll just have to get crafty with our methods,” Prudence declared with what could only be described as an evil grin. “I daresay, this party just got interesting. We have not one but two missions: avoid the Mad Baron at all costs whilst keeping the company of rakes and rogues. Let’s hope your mother brought her smelling salts this evening.”
R ogan had persuaded Phinn to attend the ball, as it would afford him the opportunity to steal a moment alone with Lady Olivia. Or possibly make the acquaintance of another woman who wouldn’t mind marriage to a notorious man with a dark past.
Very quickly it became clear that both were daunting prospects. Young ladies glanced at him appraisingly—and when they caught glimpse of the scar or realized who he was—they turned away. Finding this tremendously irritating, Phinn scowled mightily, which probably didn’t help matters.
Lady Archer proved to be another obstacle to his plans. In her clutches, he was introduced to at least half of the ton—all of whom acted as if the scandal with Nadia had happened last week instead of six years earlier. He noted the nervous glances, as if they expected him to commit some violent act right here in the ballroom.
Phinn was reminded why he’d avoided coming down to London. The machinery in his workshop in Yorkshire—once he’d rebuilt it after the fire—didn’t give a damn about his reputation or bother him with inane conversation.
If he were not so fixated upon finding Olivia, it might have tried his temper. His legendary Radcliffe temper. That would give them something to talk about.
He had spotted her earlier in the evening with her friends. By the time he and Lady Archer managed their way through the crowds, they were gone. Fled , if he wanted to be precise about it, which, being scientifically inclined, he couldn’t help but do.
Things had been different when they first met. Before she knew who he was, they had shared a connection that was too strong for him to give up on after one disastrous meeting. Being a science-minded man, he wasn’t about to quit his courtship and begin anew after one failed experiment. He’d make another attempt to discern if they were truly incompatible or if they’d just gotten off to a rocky start.
If only he could do so without Lady Archer.
“Do you see Olivia?” she asked, fanning herself and craning her neck trying to peer through the crowds.
“I do not,” he lied. She was standing in a crowd around the lemonade table. He recognized an opportunity. Turning to his future mother-in-law, he asked, “Perhaps you’d like to find a seat and I shall bring you a lemonade?”
Lady Archer thought that would be lovely.
Phinn made his way toward Olivia, his gaze fixed on her. She looked beautiful tonight. Her hair was in some arrangement with tendrils that emphasized her slender neck. She looked as she did the night he first set eyes upon her—simply lovely and innocent.
Nadia had been dark and wicked. In comparison, Olivia looked like sunshine and happiness.
A shorter, rounder girl with reddish hair stood beside her. He watched them whisper furiously to each other in the terrifying way only women could. What were they discussing? Phinn wasn’t sure he wanted to
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