Page 17 of A Relentless Rake

“We can’t pass up opportunities like this. You know that.”

Her shoulders slumped. Shedidknow. But knowing something to be true and wanting desperately to believe something else… Well, wasn’t that exactly what her life had become?

She muttered the first excuse that popped into her head, “I have nothing to wear.”

“Wear your best dress. No one will expect you to attend in furs and jewels.” He circled her desk and took her shoulders in his hands. “I also want you to dance, drink too much punch, and have a jolly time.”

Her heart bounced. “Truly?”

“Most truly. You deserve it.”

When he grinned at her, she saw the old Henry in him, the carefree young man she’d known before Papa died and the Everett School fell on hard times. She loved her brother, despite all the frustrations, and would do anything for him. Including attending the ball.

He turned his attention back to the papers on her desk and cleared his throat. “Have you finished looking over my new article? I wanted to show Banks my progress. He said it could be printed in the next issue ofPhilosophical Transactionsif I finished it quickly enough.”

“Mostly.” She forced down a stab of jealousy and reached into her desk drawer. Henry’s pages—and her corrections—testified to the culmination of work that would gain him a Society fellowship. “I still have a few pages to finish.” When disappointment flitted across his face, she added quickly, “But I can have them done by tomorrow.”

He beamed her a smile. “I knew I could count on you.”

As he scanned through the sheets, he nodded in appreciation. Olivia’s chest warmed at that small compliment.

A thought struck her. “There was something mixed in with your notes that didn’t belong. A page of data points for a different set of parabolas.” She reached for the last sheet to show him. “The page marked Waterloo.” She teased, “Have you moved from arches to arms?”

With a laugh at the idea, he pulled out the page, folded it, and placed it into his breast pocket. “It’s nothing. Just some notes I made for the next project.”

“Good, because I’ve had enough of war for a long while,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I want to work to make it even more deadly.”

His mouth twisted guiltily. “As I said, it’s nothing. But this one on arches—thisis what matters.” He tapped his finger to the pages like a proud papa. “This article will make us famous!”

Him, she corrected silently and tried not to let her jealousy show. It would makehimfamous, not her.

But if helping benefited Henry, then it also benefited the school. In the end, that was what mattered.

Or at least that was what she told herself. Perhaps someday a woman could receive credit for doing a man’s work.

“I’m heading out. I’ll see you at the lecture, then. I need your support to get me through this.”

“You’ll be fine without me.” She’d gone over his notes again that morning to catch any last mistakes. “But I’ll be there just the same.”

Grateful relief relaxed his features, and he squeezed her shoulders affectionately. His grin faded. “I’m sorry you can’t have balls and parties all the time. I never wanted this life for you.”

“I know,” she mumbled despite the self-recrimination that tightened her throat.

“But there is no one better to run this school than you, and I could never have wished for a more precious sister.” Love and concern—perhaps a tinge of regret—registered on his face. “I would do anything for you. You know that.”

She forced a smile.

He handed back the papers, then gestured at the invitation as he made his way toward the door. “Be certain to accept that right away. You have no idea what might come of attending.”

She smiled wistfully as he closed the door. Henry could be a wonderful brother most of the time. When he wasn’t irritating the daylights out of her.

Then her smile blossomed into a full-out grin, and she laughed as an excited thrill shot through her. She was goingto a ball!

Yet she still had nothing proper to wear. She had two days to either buy a proper dress or steal a fairy godmother’s magic wand.

Her gaze fell onto the account book and its total of available funds. Her shoulders sagged.

Where exactly did one find a fairy godmother?