know.
“Radcliffe!”
Phinn turned and saw the Duke of Ashbrooke. The duke had earned a reputation as quite the rake—before falling in love with his wife, Emma. What was less known was the duke’s mathematical genius. He’d conceived of the Difference Engine and how it would work. Through the Royal Society, he’d reached out to Phinn about drafting the plans and building the engine.
Hence, Phinn’s trip to London.
“Good to see you out, Radcliffe,” the duke said. “I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Lady Emma.”
Lady Emma was a petite brunette who gave him a slightly crooked smile.
“How do you do?” he asked, stealing a glance at Olivia.
“Very well, thank you,” Lady Emma replied. “I am quite keen to make your acquaintance, especially since you are courting one of my dearest friends.”
That caught Phinn’s attention.
“Small world, isn’t it?” Blake—the duke—mused.
“She’s really a lovely girl,” Emma said.
“Yes, I think so. Beautiful, too,” Phinn said. Much of women’s behavior seemed to defy logic to him, but he did know that what was told to one would be made known to the others. He ought to name this phenomenon. Publish a paper on it. Or use it to his advantage.
“We were surprised at your sudden courtship,” Emma said, and Phinn stored that information away. Too much, too soon. But what was to be gained by waiting? “We hardly know you.”
“What would you like to know?” Phinn asked.
Lady Emma glanced left, then right, then leaned in close.
“Did you do it?” she asked in a low voice.
“Emma!” Blake exclaimed.
“He’s intent upon marrying my best friend,” she explained. “I must inquire.”
“Women,” Blake muttered, shaking his head. Phinn grinned, not daring to show his agreement any other way.
Lord Archer hadn’t inquired. He’d merely said, I trust those rumors about your previous wife are nonsense, and then moved on to talk of Olivia’s generous dowry.
“Does your house truly have a dungeon?” Emma asked, and he peered at her curiously, wondering where the devil she got an idea like that. “And after the wedding— if there is one—will you really lock Olivia away in your vast and remote country estate?”
Phinn was still trying to fathom what the devil she was talking about.
“Pardon my wife and her intrusive—though entertaining—questions,” the duke said.
“We’ll see how the courtship goes first,” Phinn replied evasively.
“Yes, we shall,” Emma replied in a manner that made him distinctly uneasy.
A commotion by the lemonade table caught his attention. It involved Olivia—and her hands on another man. She wasn’t his, but Phinn still experienced a surge of possessiveness that woke his Radcliffe temper. He took a deep breath, forcing it back.
T here was a mob around the lemonade table. Olivia and Prudence joined the crowd not for a drink, but to be in the vicinity of Lord Gerard, who had recently appeared in the gossip columns after suffering a carriage accident at first light, upon which it was discovered that his friend’s wife was in the carriage with him. Given their lack of attire, there was little doubt as to what they had been doing together. There was a duel, of course, and it was rather remarkable for him to show his face this evening.
“You ask him,” Prudence said, gently nudging Olivia, while eyeing Lord Gerard’s broad shoulders, clad in a fine black wool jacket. His tawny colored hair was long, curling around the collar.
“No, you ask him,” Olivia replied. He was such a tower of virile masculinity. The idea of talking to him made her feel out of sorts. She hadn’t prepared for this, and in her nervousness, her palms became damp.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be cavorting with disreputable gentlemen,” Prudence pointed out in a whisper.
“Cavorting?” Olivia echoed. “I’m not sure I know how to cavort.”
“Just think what Lady Katherine would do,” Prudence advised.
“Radcliffe!”
Phinn turned and saw the Duke of Ashbrooke. The duke had earned a reputation as quite the rake—before falling in love with his wife, Emma. What was less known was the duke’s mathematical genius. He’d conceived of the Difference Engine and how it would work. Through the Royal Society, he’d reached out to Phinn about drafting the plans and building the engine.
Hence, Phinn’s trip to London.
“Good to see you out, Radcliffe,” the duke said. “I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Lady Emma.”
Lady Emma was a petite brunette who gave him a slightly crooked smile.
“How do you do?” he asked, stealing a glance at Olivia.
“Very well, thank you,” Lady Emma replied. “I am quite keen to make your acquaintance, especially since you are courting one of my dearest friends.”
That caught Phinn’s attention.
“Small world, isn’t it?” Blake—the duke—mused.
“She’s really a lovely girl,” Emma said.
“Yes, I think so. Beautiful, too,” Phinn said. Much of women’s behavior seemed to defy logic to him, but he did know that what was told to one would be made known to the others. He ought to name this phenomenon. Publish a paper on it. Or use it to his advantage.
“We were surprised at your sudden courtship,” Emma said, and Phinn stored that information away. Too much, too soon. But what was to be gained by waiting? “We hardly know you.”
“What would you like to know?” Phinn asked.
Lady Emma glanced left, then right, then leaned in close.
“Did you do it?” she asked in a low voice.
“Emma!” Blake exclaimed.
“He’s intent upon marrying my best friend,” she explained. “I must inquire.”
“Women,” Blake muttered, shaking his head. Phinn grinned, not daring to show his agreement any other way.
Lord Archer hadn’t inquired. He’d merely said, I trust those rumors about your previous wife are nonsense, and then moved on to talk of Olivia’s generous dowry.
“Does your house truly have a dungeon?” Emma asked, and he peered at her curiously, wondering where the devil she got an idea like that. “And after the wedding— if there is one—will you really lock Olivia away in your vast and remote country estate?”
Phinn was still trying to fathom what the devil she was talking about.
“Pardon my wife and her intrusive—though entertaining—questions,” the duke said.
“We’ll see how the courtship goes first,” Phinn replied evasively.
“Yes, we shall,” Emma replied in a manner that made him distinctly uneasy.
A commotion by the lemonade table caught his attention. It involved Olivia—and her hands on another man. She wasn’t his, but Phinn still experienced a surge of possessiveness that woke his Radcliffe temper. He took a deep breath, forcing it back.
T here was a mob around the lemonade table. Olivia and Prudence joined the crowd not for a drink, but to be in the vicinity of Lord Gerard, who had recently appeared in the gossip columns after suffering a carriage accident at first light, upon which it was discovered that his friend’s wife was in the carriage with him. Given their lack of attire, there was little doubt as to what they had been doing together. There was a duel, of course, and it was rather remarkable for him to show his face this evening.
“You ask him,” Prudence said, gently nudging Olivia, while eyeing Lord Gerard’s broad shoulders, clad in a fine black wool jacket. His tawny colored hair was long, curling around the collar.
“No, you ask him,” Olivia replied. He was such a tower of virile masculinity. The idea of talking to him made her feel out of sorts. She hadn’t prepared for this, and in her nervousness, her palms became damp.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be cavorting with disreputable gentlemen,” Prudence pointed out in a whisper.
“Cavorting?” Olivia echoed. “I’m not sure I know how to cavort.”
“Just think what Lady Katherine would do,” Prudence advised.
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