The Untamed Earl (14 page)

She took a deep breath. She could do this. She
could.
She could dance with Owen Monroe tonight and become the belle of the ball. They'd been practicing, hadn't they? She was prepared. So why did she feel ill?

A knock sounded at the door. Alex whirled toward it. “It's me, Thomas,” her brother's voice rang out. She pressed a hand against her pounding chest. Good heavens, she needed to calm her nerves. She hurried to the door and opened it.

“Thomas?”

Her handsome brother grinned at her and bowed. “I've come to escort you to the ball.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were at school.”

“I came back for a bit. With Father's permission, of course. Lord Owen wrote to me. He said tonight would be special for you. He sent the note to Windsor via private messenger.”

Owen had written to her brother? Alex swallowed. How absolutely lovely of him. And private messenger? Why, that must have cost a fortune.

Alex eyed her brother up and down. He was dressed in formal black evening attire and looked altogether debonair. Her brother was already good-looking and dashing at the age of sixteen with his dark brown hair that was slicked back and bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief.

“You look beautiful, Al.”

She curtsied to him. “Thank you, my lord,” she added with a giggle.

He tucked her arm under his and led her downstairs to the foyer, where she gathered her wrap. Mother and Father and Lavinia were already waiting in the coach. Thank heavens Father's coach was large enough to accommodate all five of them.

“I'm still not entirely certain why you wanted to come to the ball this evening,” Mother said to Thomas as the coach took off into the night toward the Rutherfords' house.

“The lad is growing up, Lillian,” Father said.

“I've come to escort my sisters. Need I explain myself any further?” Thomas replied. He turned to wink at Alex where only she could see. They both knew no good could come of it if Lavinia thought for a moment that Alex was getting preferential treatment from their brother.

“Besides, school's quite dull this time of year. It's hardly off to a start yet.”

“The little Season is dull as well,” Lavinia said in a huff. “I daresay it's even more dull than the spring Season, and that is a complete bore.”

“Lavinia, please,” their mother said.

Thankfully, the Rutherfords' house was nearby and the ride was not long. The footman helped Father and Mother out of the coach, Father assisted Lavinia, and then Thomas sprang forward to help Alex. She took his hand eagerly and alighted.

Thomas offered his arm again and escorted her through the receiving line, the corridor, and finally down the sweeping staircase to the Rutherfords' elegant ballroom.

When the butler announced them, Alex was again certain she would cast up her accounts. It felt as if all eyes in the ballroom turned to stare at her. Why?

She concentrated on looking above all the feathers in the ladies' hair and allowed her brother to lead her about the room. Alex glanced around. Why was everyone watching her?

“I should very much like a glass of champagne,” she whispered to her brother.

“I'll get you one,” he replied, squeezing her hand.

Thomas was off in a flash, and Alex was left alone. She scanned the ballroom for a glimpse of either Owen or Lavinia. She turned in a wide circle and caught her breath when Owen materialized from the crowd. He wore his finest black evening attire with a sapphire waistcoat and blinding white cravat and shirttails. He was so handsome, her chest felt tight.

He bowed to her. “My lady.”

She offered him her hand. “My lord.”

“May I have this dance?”

“Of course you may.”

And then they were off. Flying about the floor as if they had invented the steps to the waltz. After their lessons together, Alex was altogether relaxed in his arms. Though she did still wish for that glass of champagne. And when she ventured a glance at the guests, she noted with no small amount of pride that they were all watching her again. She was with the notorious Lord Owen Monroe for the second time in as many balls. This time she was laughing at his jests, playfully slapping at his arm with her fan, and looking deeply into his eyes. If the assembly had been feeling a bit sorry for her having to begin the ball on the arm of her younger brother, they were no longer feeling sorry.

“Why is everyone watching us?”

Owen chuckled. “This is what you wanted, is it not?”

“Yes, but I feel as if they were staring even before we danced.”

Owen tilted his head to the side. “I may have started a rumor that I was taken with you.”

Alex gasped a little. “You didn't!”

“Yes, I did. Though I do hope it doesn't make its way round to Lavinia, or all our teaching sessions will have been for naught. However, I thought your reputation could use a boost.”

“I doubt Lavinia would believe it even if she does hear it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “And thank you for the … boost. And for writing to Thomas.”

“You're welcome, my lady,” Owen said with his infamous grin.

By the time the waltz ended, Alex had a bevy of admirers lined up to ask for the next dance. Owen released her hand. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Alexandra,” he said, and Alex was swept into a throng of young gentlemen, all of whom were either asking their female relatives for introductions or were asking Alex for a dance. And just like that, Owen had launched her fabulously into Society. Exactly as Alex had wished. So why did she feel a little like crying as she watched him turn away and head toward Lavinia?

Alex blinked away the tears quickly. Lord Matthew Beckett was standing at her elbow, waiting for her attention. Lord Beckett was one of the most sought-after bachelors of the Season. It wouldn't do for him to see her crying like a ninny. She pasted a bright smile on her face and turned to him. They'd already been introduced. In fact, as she glanced at the group of gentlemen vying for her attention, she realized she'd been introduced to most of them. They simply hadn't been interested in her … until tonight. Until Owen.

Alex didn't remember a word Lord Beckett said during their dance. Nor did she recall her conversations with Lord Sheffield, Sir Montague, or Mr. Hanson after that. All she could concentrate upon was keeping her gaze focused on Owen. First he'd spoken to Lavinia. Apparently, that hadn't gone well, because minutes later, she'd stomped off, refusing a glass of champagne he'd offered her. But now, he was back at Lavinia's side, speaking to her again. Alex desperately tried to get her latest dancing partner, Lord Gillicuttie, to move closer to where Owen and Lavinia were speaking, in the hopes that she might have the chance to overhear a bit of it. Unfortunately, not only was Lord Gillicuttie an awful dancer, but the man was a complete bore as well, and he positively refused to be led by a lady. Finally the song came to an end, and Alex hastily excused herself, dashing across the floor in the opposite direction of the steadily growing group of gentlemen who wanted to dance with her.

She glanced back at her group of admirers. Men were such silly creatures. They took no notice of a thing until one of them showed interest, and then suddenly they all had to have it. In this case, the “it” just so happened to be
her.

Owen had apparently received another crushing setdown from Lavinia. He was far across the room, a scowl deeply etched on his face, his neck reddening. Mother had rushed over to see to Lavinia while Owen headed back toward the refreshment table with Lavinia's untouched glass of champagne clutched in one fist. Alex scurried past the crowd to hide behind a potted palm that was on his route.

“Owen,” she called when he passed by.

He stopped and glanced around. “Alexandra? Is that you?” he whispered.

“Yes. Over here.”

He turned around fully and must have guessed her hiding spot because the next thing she knew, he slid behind the palm with her.

His scowl transformed into a wide grin as soon as he saw her standing there. “I never noticed how deuced convenient palms are till I met you.”

Alex could help but smile back. “They are convenient, aren't they?”

“Exceedingly so.” He held out the glass to her. “Care for some champagne?”

“Yes, please.” She grabbed the flute and downed half its contents in one gulp.

“Despite your insistence that your sister adores champagne, she just informed me in no uncertain terms that champagne makes her ill and she was aghast that I offered it to her.”

Alex pressed her lips together to keep from wincing. “That's odd,” she offered. A change of subject was in order. Immediately. Alex blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Will you please take me out on the terrace? Alone.”

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Owen turned to her with wide eyes. “Pardon?” He couldn't possibly have heard her correctly. An innocent did not want to go off onto the terrace alone with
him.

Alex waved her gloved hand in front of her face. “I've misplaced my fan and am in need of some fresh air. It's sweltering in here. I feel as if I might faint.”

“Well, we can't have that.” He grinned at her. “But what did I tell you about going off alone with strange gentlemen?”

She arched a brow. “Oh, so now
you're
a strange gentleman?”

Was that flirtatious? His little student learned quickly, it seemed. “A dance is one thing, but your reputation may well be shredded if you go onto the terrace alone with me.”

“No, it won't. Not if we don't stay long. I think it will give my reputation just the cachet of mystery that it's currently lacking. The dance was a good start, but this may solidify my entrée into Society as an incomparable.” She blinked at him innocently.

“I don't know about this, Alex,” he said in a warning tone, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Very well. I'm going out alone, then.” Taking her half-empty champagne glass with her, she turned on her heel and headed toward the French doors that led out onto the terrace that in turn led down to the garden.

Owen followed her. Of course he followed her. What choice did he have? Not to mention, he found he wanted to talk to her. She was infinitely more appealing than her bad-tempered sister. And she knew how to handle her champagne, apparently, too.

They strolled outside separately, but Owen met her on the far side of the terrace. The light from twinkling candles spread throughout the gardens lit their path. The late summer air was warm and inviting. Alex turned to him and splayed her gloved hands across the balustrade behind her.

Owen tilted his head to the side and contemplated her. “Our dance was a success, it seems. Your dancing card appears to be much fuller.”

“Yes. I'm suddenly quite popular. Thanks to you. I've barely had a chance to breathe, let alone have a glass of champagne, so thank you for that, too.”

“You're welcome,” he replied, bowing.

He watched her carefully. The moonlight touched her cheekbones, the shining crown of her head, the sparkling bodice of her gown. She smelled like strawberries, as usual. He wanted to … kiss her. The thought stopped him, surprised him. He wasn't in the business of wanting to kiss innocents. And he certainly wasn't in the business of wanting to kiss the young sisters of the lady he was supposed to be courting. But all he could think about was the feel of her mouth on his yesterday when she hadn't stepped away from his kiss. This was madness. The moon was doing insane things to him. That was all.

“How did you fare with Lavinia?” she asked, jolting him from his indecent thoughts.

He rubbed a knuckle against his forehead and expelled his breath. “Lavinia would barely look at me, let alone dance with me.”

Alex took another tiny sip of her champagne. “Did you ask her to?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you think she heard the rumor?”

“She said she found it crass of me to attempt to use her sister in order to make an impression on
her.
”

“That sounds like Lavinia.” Alex tapped a finger against her cheek. “You didn't mention horses, did you?”

“I might have.”

“Did you give her a rock?”

“No. But I'm not above foraging in this garden for one if it will help my cause. Why is she such a—?”

“Shrew?”

“I was going to say ‘difficult lady,' but ‘shrew' is apt as well.”

“She's always been given everything she wants in life.”

“You're making excuses for her behavior.”

Alex's hand fell to her side. “Perhaps, but she was very ill as a child, and—”

“Another excuse.”

Alex glanced away.

Owen sighed. He remembered how Alex had changed the subject when he'd asked her how her parents had treated
her.
She was used to getting the castoffs of affection. His heart tugged at the thought. It was a singularly surprising experience. But he could tell that Alex didn't want to talk about it, so he turned the conversation back to Lavinia. “She's always been given everything she wants in life, and she doesn't want me.”

Alex shook her head. “You're not her ideal suitor.”

“Who is? Sir Lancelot?”

“Perhaps.”

“She'll be waiting a long while if she's waiting for me to turn into Lancelot, for God's sake.”

Alex shrugged. “That's what we've been studying, isn't it? How to make you into the perfect romantic gentleman?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at a pebble that had somehow made it onto the terrace.

“I fear it's a lost cause. Your sister doesn't seem a bit more impressed with me tonight than she has been in the past.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Alex replied softly.