Lady Wallflower - Scarlett Scott Page 0,34

possible, they would have both been too stubborn to see they belonged together.”

What if Decker and Lady Helena fell in love?

Now it was Jo who wanted to retch at a notion.

“That would be horrible, Callie,” she snapped. “Why should Lady Helena wish to marry a man who keeps erotic pictures on the walls of his library?”

“What manner of erotic pictures?” Lady Helena asked, sounding intrigued.

“Yes, what manner of erotic pictures?” Callie probed. “And how would you know what is hanging in his library?”

Blast. Collect yourself, Josephine. First, you invented a book, then you interrupted your dearest friend, and now you are treading dangerously near to revealing you were in Decker’s library, of all things.

She cleared her throat. “That was the rumor I heard, I believe. And also in his club, the Black Souls.”

“I wonder what is depicted in them,” Lady Helena said, then flushed prettily. “Oh dear, I do hope the two of you will not think me shockingly forward and vulgar. My poor mother would be horrified.”

Callie laughed. “If you have not noticed by now, my dear, we are hardly cut from the same cloth as the paragons of society. And truthfully, I wonder what is depicted in them as well. I do not recall ever having been inside Mr. Decker’s library as yet, and of course, I have never gone to the Black Souls. Perhaps I will have Sinclair take me one of these days…”

But Jo did not miss the speculative look her friend sent in her direction. And nor did she fool herself that she was not flushing. She was dreadful at keeping secrets, and Callie knew it.

Jo busied herself with taking a sip from her tea, which was growing cool, studiously avoiding her friend’s gaze lest she read too much in Jo’s eyes. Namely, the scorching kisses she had shared with Decker the night before, in his carriage and at his club. She had gone home and immediately crossed item number one off her list.

“I have an excellent idea!” Callie exclaimed, grinning like the cat who had gotten into the proverbial cream. “Sinclair and I shall host a dinner party. I will see that Mr. Decker is included. That way, you can see if the two of you suit. And if you do, my brother and his duchess are hosting a country house party in a few weeks’ time. I will make certain you are all included in the guest list.”

Jo liked the idea of more opportunities to see Decker. Perhaps the potential to find him alone and cross off more items on her list. However, the aim of throwing him together with Lady Helena aggrieved her mightily. How to suggest as much without garnering further suspicions from her friend, however?

“Do you have anyone else in mind?” Jo asked Lady Helena. “Another man who might aid you in your quest to make yourself decidedly de trop to the officious Lord Hamish?”

Lady Helena’s gaze lowered to her teacup, her lashes sweeping over her eyes. “There is one, but I fear he would not enlist himself in helping me to accomplish such a feat. He is close friends with my brother and I have known him since I was a girl. The Earl of Huntingdon, but he is nearly betrothed to another.”

Jo’s hopes flagged. Huntingdon was notoriously proper and cold. He seemed a lost cause.

“I shall invite him as well,” Callie decided. “The worst he can do is refuse. I do, however, believe him to be friends with Westmorland. Surely we can use the connection in our favor.”

“Thank you for wanting to aid me,” Lady Helena said with a tremulous smile. “I am not certain anything can save me from the wretched future awaiting me.”

Jo knew a stinging rush of shame. She was being selfish. After all, she was not being forced into an unwanted marriage. Her brother Julian would never do such a thing, as much as he blustered and threatened. He was merely overly protective of his sisters.

And it was not as if Decker was hers, was it?

No matter how much something deep inside her suddenly wished he were.

Decker detested dinner parties.

He found them appallingly boring and a tedious waste of otherwise useful time.

Unless he was the one hosting, that was. But he had made an art of offering his guests an experience unlike any they would have elsewhere. There had been the time his chef had shaped all the desserts into miniature bubbies. The evening when the famous American actress Eva Silver had dined completely

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