Free Wallflower Gone Wild by Maya Rodale

but to smile and ask Lady Archer to dance. Phinn made his escape.
    P rudence led Olivia away from Lord Gerard and his soaking waistcoat, seeking another opportunity for scandal. Olivia must cavort with rogues, plural.
    “What just happened?” Olivia asked, aghast.
    Prudence just smiled and explained: “What happened was that you broke at least seven rules of etiquette. You spoke to a gentleman to whom you had not been introduced. You asked for something you wanted, rather than wait prettily for someone to notice that perhaps you were parched and in need of refreshment. And then you had your hands all over Lord Gerard’s abdomen!” Prudence paused before concluding with, “You’re welcome.”
    “I suppose you’re the mysterious push that caused me to lose my balance and spill my drink,” Olivia remarked.
    They paused to chat near a pillar. Before them dozens of couples were dancing, including—Prue gasped—was that Lady Archer doing the quadrille with a young man? No, it couldn’t be. But it was. Best not to mention it. Olivia and Prue lingered near the doors to the terrace, while Prudence explained the situation.
    “You were seen cavorting with a rake instead of just standing next to one,” she said. “Everyone will be speaking about it. Perhaps even the Mad Baron saw you, and thinks that you are not the docile, chaste creature he envisioned.”
    “Thank you?” Olivia said, though it sounded to Prue rather like a question.
    “Of course,” Prue said, smiling. “What are friends for, if not helping to derail an unwanted marriage by causing numerous scandals in one night?”
    But Prudence knew it was more than that. When her friend inevitably married, she would officially be the last graduate of Lady Penelope’s School for Young Ladies who hadn’t wed. The anniversary ball was just over a month away and she didn’t have even one suitor. Not one. She’d need Olivia by her side for that event and ever after.
    They could rent a cottage in Brighton and be spinsters by the sea . . .
    If Olivia loved the Mad Baron, then she wouldn’t interfere with a nudge or a push or a crazy scheme. But she knew Olivia didn’t want to marry him, and unlike her, didn’t possess a wicked mind, so it was her noble duty as a friend to help.
    “Olivia, I have only your best interests at heart.”
    “I know. And I would do the same for you,” Olivia said, smiling and affectionately squeezing her hand. Prue felt her breath catch. She had to remember this moment when everything was still amusing and lovely. Before Olivia inevitably wed someone and she herself was left on her own. It was a bittersweet moment, feeling this happiness but knowing it wouldn’t last.
    Forcing such maudlin sentiments aside, Prudence focused upon the quest of the evening. Cavorting with rogues. Plural.
    “Remember that,” she said, smiling mischievously.
    “What? Why?” Olivia asked, now looking nervous.
    “So you won’t be angry when I do this,” Prue said, giving a gentle—very well, firm—nudge to her friend, which sent her stumbling forward and into the arms of a rake.
    O livia shrieked as she pitched forward into the arms of . . . Whose arms were these? She looked up, into a wall of a man’s chest clad in a cerulean blue silk waistcoat. Laughter reached her ears. She looked higher still, into the laughing brown eyes of a rather handsome dark-haired gentleman.
    A man she didn’t recognize provided some illumination on the matter: “What did you catch, there, Beaumont?”
    Oh Lord Above, this was Lord Beaumont. She didn’t think he even attended proper ton functions, preferring instead to frequent less formal events with much looser women. It was said—in hushed whispers—that he’d bedded a different woman every night since he’d turned fifteen. Prudence had once added it up, but Olivia couldn’t remember the outrageously high number now. She couldn’t remember anything. This was Beaumont and she was in his arms.
    “I am