James raised a brow."Moderate?"
"Yes," Miss Moreland said."A most unfortunate word.He asked me to ensure you made no 'unfortunate impressions.'"
Esme's jaw clenched."I am one-and-twenty, not a porcelain shepherdess to be dusted and put back on a shelf."
"No," James said quietly."You are not a ledger, either."
Her gaze snapped to his.For a moment the hum of the ballroom faded, leaving only the pulse at her throat and the bright, angry intelligence in her eyes.
"No," she agreed."I am not."
"There," Miss Moreland said, satisfied."Entirely immoderate.I approve."
Esme smoothed her expression as a passing couple glanced their way."In any case," she said lightly, "Woodmere prefers his world orderly.Sisters neatly settled, columns neatly aligned, risks neatly avoided."
"And you," James said, "are not neat."
"I have no interest in being neat."
Miss Moreland took a thoughtful sip."If the Season insists on treating you like a parcel, we must, at the very least, insist upon a scandalous bow."
James laughed."Miss Moreland, will you come lecture at my club?"
"Only if they serve cake," she said."I do nothing revolutionary on an empty stomach."
Esme's shoulders loosened."I do not need a revolution," she said, half to herself."Only a little room to breathe."
Something unfamiliar twisted in Redford's chest.
"If it is air you want," he said slowly, "perhaps what you require is not moderation but mischief."
Miss Moreland brightened at once."Oh, I like that."
Esme narrowed her eyes."What sort of mischief?"
"The harmless kind," he said."No ruined reputations, no true cruelty, merely a series of small adjustments in your favor.Mischief like diverting an over-eager suitor here, rearranging a place card there.Enough to keep the dullest outcomes from catching you."
"You propose," Esme said, "a conspiracy."
"A society," Miss Moreland breathed."The Mutual Mischief Society."
Esme gave her a quelling look, but a restless shine was back in her eyes."A society sounds as though we ought to have rules," she said.
"By all means."James inclined his head."Name them."
“In addition to no harm to reputations, and no true cruelty.,” she said.“If any of this results in my being forced to marry a man who lectures about columns before breakfast, I shall hold you personally responsible."
"Reasonable," he said."I accept."
Miss Moreland bounced on her toes."Then it is settled.Our first act… Ensuring Lord Watford spends the remainder of the evening discussing ink with someone who truly appreciates it."
James's gaze drifted to where Lady Honoria Worthington held court.
"I believe," he said, "we may have found our volunteer."
Esme's mouth curved into a delighted smile."Lord Redford, that is appallingly wicked."
"Efficient," he corrected.
