Page 4 of Season of the Scoundrel
“Opportunities are lovely, but not all of them suit us.” Lily’s expression softened. “I suspect this one wouldn’t suit you at all.”
Ivy had crossed her arms, fearful Lily would encourage her to take the offer. “I know it won’t.”
“There will be other opportunities,” Lily said quietly.
Ivy smiled, touched by her sister’s encouragement. But she had another idea. “What if I made my own opportunity?”
“How would you do that?”
“In a year, I’ll come of age. What if Griffin gavememy dowry? I could start my own newspaper.”
Lily scoffed and laughed, then quieted the longer she looked at Ivy, finally recognizing her seriousness. “Ivy, you’re twenty years old. Are you already certain you’ll never wish to marry?”
Ivy’s muscles tensed. She knew her sister and brother-in-law were more indulgent than many guardians, and this was a bold request.
“Of all the things I wish to accomplish, marriage is not yet on the list.”
Lily pressed her lips together, but arched one brow. “One day, it might be.”
“Perhaps, but why not allow me to benefit frommydowry in the meantime, rather than withholding it for a man who is not yet more than a far-offpossibility?”
Lily turned her head to watch the townhouses pass as they approached Edgerton House.
Ivy suspected she wouldn’t agree. Dowries were set aside to entice a husband.
“Let me speak to Griffin,” Lily finally said.
“Will you?” Ivy leaned across the carriage. “Thank you, Lily.”
“I can’t promise anything, and he may have other ideas about how best to help you achieve what you wish.”
“But at least you’ll ask, and I love you for it.”
“I love you too.” Lily laughed, then narrowed her eyes again. “Now tell me what I missed before the carriage pulled around.”
CHAPTER 2
It wasn’t every day that Ross Emerson, Duke of Blackbourne, walked down Fleet Street and ended up with a young lady plastered against his body.
The whole encounter had been extraordinary. He told himself that’s why he couldn’t get it out of his head. She’d been foolhardy and reckless but undeniably magnificent as she’d stepped between a thug and an urchin.
A thug Ross recognized. Ebenezer Farley had known him too. One look from Ross, and the coward had hied off. Farley was a cruel, blustering manager in one of his competitor’s press rooms, and now Ross had a reason to speak to the paper’s owner about the man’s antics.
Butshehad truly been the one to stop the blackguard.
Ross had come upon the scene as Farley shouted at the young woman, but he’d also noticed the child crouched behind her and guessed what must have unfolded.
Only when the bastard attempted to put his hands on the lady had Ross stepped in.
What he hadn’t been prepared for was the feel of her pressed against him. Her cinnamon and vanilla scent. Her bright green eyes when she turned to face him. His brain had stalled for amoment, but he’d registered sable hair, a pert nose, and a plush mouth that sparked a mad urge to trace the pad of his thumb across her lips.
She was a beauty, and the challenge in her eyes only made her more so. He’d seen fire in those green depths, heat along the curve of her cheeks. She’d been glorious in her righteous fury. But also damnably rash. Farley was a brawny sort, and he could have done her real harm.
Ross was glad he’d come upon the scene when he did, though the lady had seemed less than impressed with his intervention. She hadn’t said a word to him before rushing over to the child, offering the waif some coins and what appeared to be her calling card. Then she’d stood, dusted off her smart walking suit, and strode off as if she hadn’t just been at the center of a ruckus in the middle of Fleet Street.
He could still smell her scent on his clothes. When had vanilla and cinnamon become so enticing?
Good God, man. Get ahold of yourself.He had no time for distractions. And he’d never have room for a reckless hellion in his life.
