Wallflower Gone Wild by Maya Rodale Page A

idea what you have in store for him, does he?” Emma asked, shaking her head in pity for the poor Mad Baron.
    “He might expect some trouble,” Olivia confided with a smile on her lips. She had all but promised him that she wasn’t going to behave as London’s Least Likely to Cause a Scandal. “And he all but dared me to.”
    “You and the Mad Baron locked in a battle of epic proportions with your life on the line,” Prudence said. “Be still my beating heart.”
    “My heart does race whenever he’s around,” Olivia confided. She felt a heightened awareness of his green eyes upon her when he was near, like a prey animal being stalked. It was torture. Just waiting. For something to happen. Something bad. Presumably.
    “Are you certain you do not find him attractive?” Emma asked, tilting her head curiously. “He is handsome, Olivia. I quite like his eyes and his tussled hair. It gives him quite a rakish air.”
    Olivia knew she might have, too, if everything were different. Like, say, if he hadn’t essentially confessed to murder in her drawing room over tea.
    “I also have trouble breathing,” she said. Really, in the past few days, morning, noon, and night, she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
    “So you’re saying he leaves you breathless?” Emma asked. “Really, Olivia—”
    “Your corset could be laced to tightly. Or you could . . .” Prudence let her voice trail off and she awkwardly looked away. She and Emma exchanged a nervous glance.
    “Or I could be what, Prudence?”
    “You might be filling out your dresses more,” she said, wincing.
    Olivia opened her mouth to protest. Then she thought better of it. She glanced down at her figure. Was it fuller? All those pastries she no longer refrained from eating, and all those extra helpings at meals—despite the disapproving comments from her mother—had to go somewhere. It seemed they went toward her breasts and generally giving her a rounder figure.
    “It’s possible, given that I abandoned all efforts to restrain myself to ladylike portions. Extra cake and biscuits at tea has been one of the better parts of breaking the rules,” she agreed, smoothing out her skirts. “However, I truly believe my symptoms are because I am constantly left alone with a notoriously violent man. He’s likely to strangle me and leave me for dead in some dark corner of the ballroom. Or perhaps in my very own drawing room! I fear for my life. My heart is racing just thinking about it.”
    “But why would he do that before the wedding?” Prudence asked thoughtfully as they strolled through the gallery housing the pottery and into a large, airy room lined with ancient marble statues.
    “Prudence!” Emma exclaimed. “That is not helpful.”
    “But it’s logical. You’re definitely safe with him at least until the vows are said,” Prudence said. “If he wanted to simply go around murdering young ladies, why go through all the bother of courtship first?”
    “He just doesn’t seem that terrible,” Emma said. “I had a nice conversation with him at the ball. He answered my questions about the murder. He confirmed that he doesn’t have a dungeon. I can’t imagine that Blake would work with him if he were guilty of such a crime.”
    “He is handsome,” Prudence admitted. “For a murderer.”
    “He does seem a bit shy,” Emma said. “Probably because he hasn’t spent much time in the throes of the social whirl.”
    “You know what they say. It’s always the quiet ones,” Olivia said gravely.
    “I have heard that,” Prudence agreed solemnly.
    “Oh, for Lord’s sake, Prudence! You’re distressing Olivia.” Emma’s vexed cries echoed around the room. A few other museum patrons turned to peer at them.
    “Prue isn’t making me any more distressed than I already am. He basically confessed to the crime. And he wants me only because I am the perfect lady who won’t bother him. The kind of woman who won’t put up a fight,” Olivia said with a