His Scholar (The Outrageous Oliphants #1)

Chapter 1

Slowly, the other women’s conversation pierced Olive L’arbre’s concentration, enough to draw her away from the stunning exploits of Aberdeen Jones. She huffed slightly in irritation then lowered the journal to peer over the top of it at the rest of the gathered ladies.

What were they discussing?

“Do your tongues get tangled when you do that?”

“Well of course! That is the point. See, when his tongue does this…’oo ung us is.”

“Hazel dear, we cannot understand you when your tongue is in that posit— Oh, I see what you are doing now.”

The rest of the group of gathered women burst into giggles as Olive’s sister Hazel collapsed with laughter. Olive had to admit the demonstration—complete with her sister holding her hands at the approximate height a man’s shoulders would be—was really quite amusing.

Interesting enough, at least, to compel her to lower the journal further in an attempt to figure out what exactly they were discussing

“The best part isnae his tongue in yer mouth, ladies, but the other things he can do with it.” Lady Athena Oliphant, a perfectly lovely young neighbor of their hostess here at the Dumpkins house party, winked. “Kissing can lead to quite a lot of fun.”

Kissing? Is that what they were discussing? Well, what was so interesting about kissing? She’d been kissed dozens—hundreds—of times and hadn’t felt anything remotely intriguing enough to put down her book.

The part of her mind which was always watching and analyzing pointed out that perhaps she shouldn’t be basing the comparison on kisses she’d shared with her friends, her sisters, her parents, or even her brothers.

Oh, and a particularly slobbery beagle named King George.

Nonsense. Kisses are kisses.

But from what she could recall, only King George’s kisses had involved a tongue.

Hmm.

“Oh dear,” sighed her sister Willow, who had taken Grandmama’s warning about being on their best behavior at the summer party, to heart. “Olive has that look on her face again.”

Snapping from her contemplation, Olive raised a brow. “What look?”

The settee gave a little shudder as Miss Tiffany Oliphant—no relation to Athena, but another local lady—threw herself down beside Olive.

“I have only known you a short while, Olive dear, but even I can recognize it.” She grinned, and when Tiffany grinned, she positively sparkled.

“It means you are not paying attention to whatever we are talking about because you are thinking about much more important things.”

From her corner with her own book, Tiffany’s sister Bonnie murmured, “As difficult as it is to believe, there are some things more important than kissing.”

Her beautiful sister huffed and fluffed her hair. “There is nothing more important than putting on your loveliest complexion, most stunning gown, and pinning down a wealthy lord in marriage. If that means allowing him to kiss you a time or twelve, so be it.”

“A wealthy lord, as in the Duke of Cashard?” Hazel prompted teasingly.

Willow and Tiffany both sighed appreciatively, “A duke.”

Olive and her sisters had accepted the invitation to Lady Dumpkins’s house party as a way to gain a bit of polish, and hopefully meet other young ladies of similar standing—like the Oliphant sisters.

None of them were ladies, and Olive had no intention of entering Society, if she could help it, but had to admit that thus far, the house party had been far more stimulating than the social life around their sleepy little town of Hearthwell.

It seemed that Tiffany and Bonnie Oliphant were in a similar situation.

Their father had been a baron, but since their mother was in trade, they didn’t hold much hope of a proper Social debut either.

Not that quiet Bonnie wanted one—of all the young ladies here at the Dumpkins party, Olive had become closest with the other self-identified wallflower.

Her sister Tiffany, on the other hand…

Tiffany Oliphant was the most beautiful woman Olive had ever seen, and knew it.

While she could be a sweet and thoughtful friend, it was clear that she believed her beauty was her greatest asset, and could be used to accomplish great things.

Such as marriage to a duke, or if not him, then one of the other lords in attendance.

The two sisters lived with their mother nearby, and like Lady Athena, were not staying at Dumpkins Estate full-time. Unlike Athena, who only occasionally joined them for their amusements, the Oliphant sisters—or at least Tiffany—were here as often as possible.

The conversation had continued to sweep around Olive, apparently about the Duke of Cashard and if he would be as cold a kisser as he was a conversationalist. But Tiffany nudged her in the side. “You have that look again.”

Olive lifted her chin. “If you must know, I was contemplating the nature of kissing.”

“Excellent! That is a much more satisfactory topic of contemplation than whatever boring old tome it is you are reading.” Hazel’s eyes were twinkling as she teased, lounging in the settee across the sitting room. “And more satisfying as well!”

“Hazel!” gasped Willow, clutching at the neckline of her gown. “Never say that little demonstration came from experience with kissing a man.”

It was the overly shocked tone which had them all giggling, and even Olive chuckled, thinking it was a fairly good impression of Grandmama.

As Willow gasped theatrically again and this time pressed her palm to her chest, Hazel blurted, “What are you doing?”

“I am attempting to clutch my pearls, only I seem to have left them in my room. Drat that maid, to have left off the most important piece of my affronted-society-matron costume!”

Since Willow’s humor tended toward the drier side, it took most of the other young women a beat to realize she was teasing them. But when Lady Athena began to chortle, the rest soon followed.

“You forgot your pearls tonight of all nights?” Bonnie called out, still chuckling. “When you may have the chance to dance with the duke?”

“Oh, does the duke like pearl necklaces?” Tiffany perked up.

Lady Athena called out, “Most men do!” and then dissolved into laughter again, with Hazel covering her chuckles with her fingers, leaving Olive to wonder what she’d missed.

Oh. This was a reference to one of those illustrated how-to books about sex, wasn’t it?

Pearl necklace, pearl necklace…

Drat it all, why couldn’t she recall what a pearl necklace was when it came to double-entendres?

It is unlikely the latest copy of the Journal of the Society of Archaeology will contain answers.

True, but it was more interesting than discussing a theoretical sex act with a cold and aloof duke. She squeezed the journal in her lap. After all, it was only once a quarter that she got to read a new adventure from Aberdeen Jones.

You are here to make friends, and you have done it. Now, be a good friend and try to look interested in whatever Lady Athena is miming.

Good heavens, what was she doing with that imaginary cucumber?

So, despite the edge-of-her-seat archaeological adventures Mr. Jones always seemed involved with, Olive could afford to put off reading this edition for a while. She closed the journal, exhaling slightly. There. That wasn’t so hard, and it was definitely worth it.

The conversation swirled around her, and Olive did her best to participate, even if kissing had held little interest for her in the past. At school, she’d always been considered slightly odd for her perhaps-unhealthy interest in history, art, and ancient artifacts.

These young women, however, had accepted her with open arms, and teased her like old friends.

They’d taken to gathering before the evening’s entertainment.

Each Friday, Lady Dumpkins insisted there be dancing, and thus far, had thrust one of the young hopefuls at the Duke of Cashard.

That was where the conversation soon turned; which of them would be the lucky lady to dance with him tonight.

“Oh, he is just a divine dancer,” sighed Tiffany, who had been one of the first chosen. “Not the world’s best conversationalist, but a duke does not have to be.”

“One would think you would wish your husband to like you,” Bonnie pointed out.

“He can do whatever he wants after he marries me,” her sister shot back. “I’d be a duchess.”

“Dinnae limit yerself to one auld dobber with a stick up his arse, lovely,” Athena directed with a wink. “There are plenty of other lords here. My brother’s a viscount.”

“A viscount?” Tiffany sat forward. “The handsome one? I have not met him yet.”

“Aye.” Athena’s chuckle was low and throaty. “Lysander hasnae been in attendance much—his own estate is a day’s journey away.”

“What about you, Athena?” Hazel had grown closer to the Scottish woman than any of the rest of them. “Are you going to dance with the duke?”

That throaty chuckle burst from the redhead’s throat as she lounged back in the leather chair. “And subject myself to what sounds like his high-and-mightiness? Nay, thank ye verra much. Some starchy auld—”

“He is not that old,” Bonnie pointed out. “He is looking for a wife.”

Athena shrugged, her expression stating that she honestly didn’t care, and Olive was impressed, despite herself.

Her parents had long ago told her that she didn’t have to marry if she didn’t wish it, and that there would always be a place at home for her if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with her father’s books. But marriage to a duke…

Books are wonderful, but what would it be like to actually experience some of these adventures? To see Paris by moonlight, or ride a gondola, or stand in a ruined temple in India and imagine the sights and sounds and smells as they must have been?

Olive was cursed with an active imagination, but only enough self-confidence to fill a thimble. How would she ever make her dreams happen? If she did marry someone wealthy and powerful, perhaps he could finance—