I can only imagine the sort of havoc Oliver must have wreaked as a boy.”
Oliver handed Minerva in, then climbed in to sit beside her. “We weren’t that bad.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Minerva exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. “One dull evening, he and his friends went to a ball dressed in the livery of the hired footmen. Then they proceeded to drink up the liquor, flirt and wink at the elderly ladies until they were all blushing, and make loud criticisms of the entertainment. After the lady of the house caught on to their scheme and rounded up some stout young men to throw them out, they stole a small stone cupid she had in her garden and sent her a ransom note for it.”
“How the devil do you know that?” Oliver asked. “You were, what, eleven?”
“Twelve,” Minerva said. “And it was all Gran’s servants could talk about. Made quite a stir in society, as I recall. What was the ransom? A kiss for each of you from the lady’s daughter?”
A faint smile touched Oliver’s lips. “And she never did pay it. Apparently her suitors took issue with it. Not to mention her parents.”
“Good heavens,” Maria said.
“Come to think of it,” Oliver mused aloud, “I believe Kirkwood still has that cupid somewhere. I should ask him.”
“You’re as bad as Freddy and my cousins,” Maria chided. “They put soap on all the windows of the mayor’s carriage on the very day he was supposed to lead a procession through Dartmouth. You should have seen him blustering when he discovered it.”
“Was he a pompous idiot?” Oliver asked.
“A lecher, actually. He tried to force a kiss on my aunt. And him a married man, too!”
“Then I hope they did more than soap his windows,” Oliver drawled.
The comment caught Maria by surprise. “And you, of course, have never kissed a married woman?”
“Not if they didn’t ask to be kissed,” he said, a strange tension in his voice. “But we weren’t speaking of me, we were speaking of Dartmouth’s dastardly mayor. Did soaping his windows teach him a lesson?”
“No, but the gift they left for him in the coach did the trick. They got it from the town’s largest cow.”
Oliver and Minerva both laughed. Mrs. Plumtree did not. She was as silent as death beside Maria, clearly scandalized by the entire conversation.
“Why do boys always feel an urgent need to create a mess others are forced to clean up?” Minerva asked.
“Because they know how it irritates us,” Maria said.

Author: Sabrina Jeffries