The Untamed Earl (18 page)

Berkeley, being Berkeley and the consummate gentleman, hesitated only a moment before turning his attention to Alex. “Do you mind, Lady Alexandra?”

Alex shook her head. “No. It's fine.”

Berkeley gave Owen a sideways glance as he bowed to Alex and took his leave. Owen glared back. Then he spun Alex into his arms and resumed the dance.

“That was unexpected,” Alex murmured once they'd found their pace. “Why did you do it?”

“The truth is I don't know why,” Owen replied.

“My, but you truly know how to flatter a young lady, don't you?”

His lips quirked in a grin. “Why, Lady Alexandra, is that sarcasm?”

“Indeed,” she replied, grinning back at him. “I saw you speaking to Lavinia.”

“Yes, it was nearly as diverting as speaking to a garden snake.”

Alex bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“I take that back. A garden snake is no doubt better company.”

“Rejected you again, did she?”

“Frankly, I didn't even give her the chance to reject me again. I came to dance with you instead. You're infinitely better company.”

Alex arched one dark brow. “I would take that as a compliment, my lord, if you hadn't just said Lavinia's company was less interesting than that of a garden snake.”

“I enjoy dancing with you, Alex.”

She blushed prettily and gazed over his shoulder. “Thank you … I think.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“Then thank you.”

She was still looking over his shoulder. Damn it. Was she searching for Berkeley? “Did you enjoy your dance with the viscount?”

“Immensely.”

“Then you were sorry to see me cut in?” Owen hated the grumbly quality of his voice.

“I didn't say that. I thought perhaps you might need to ask me something about Lavinia.”

“You're right about one thing: I do want to speak with you, Alex. Alone.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Will you come outside with me?” Owen asked.

Alex took a deep but shaky breath. She had spent the last hour talking to and dancing with the extremely courteous and kind Lord Berkeley. If ever two men were different, they were Lord Christian Berkeley and Lord Owen Monroe. Oh so different. Where Owen was brash and arrogant, Lord Berkeley was quiet and unassuming. Where Owen was always ready for a drink and a hand of cards, Lord Berkeley had announced his distaste for gambling, and while he'd had a glass of champagne, she barely saw him take two sips of it. Alex had thanked him so profusely for his help that the viscount had finally chuckled and said, “Think nothing of it. I'm always happy to help Lucy Hunt execute her impractical plots.” It was a convenient thing that the man appeared to have a good sense of humor, at least. Although Alex already knew Lucy well enough to know that a certain gameness was a necessity if one wished to remain in her inner circle for any significant length of time.

Alex had tried to explain herself to Lord Berkeley. “I hope you don't think ill of me, attempting to gain Lord Owen's attention in this manner, it's just that—”

Lord Berkeley had held up a hand and shook his head. “No need to explain. We all do foolish things when we fancy someone. Remind me to tell you the story about how I once asked Claringdon to write love letters to Lucy for me.”

Alex's mouth had formed a wide O. “You? Wrote love letters to Lucy Hunt?”

“No,” Lord Berkeley replied, shaking his head and chuckling. “I asked her future
husband
to do it for me. Of course, I didn't know at the time that the two had an affinity for one another.” He laughed again. “It was all rather outrageous upon reflection. But then again, Lucy is known for her outrageousness. It's what makes her so endearing.”

Alex had studied the viscount carefully. He was tall and blond and broad-shouldered with crystal blue eyes and a ready smile. He was thoughtful, helpful, and a bit shy, which made him even more appealing. According to Lucy, he also had an unfortunate habit of stuttering when in the presence of a female whom he particularly fancied. He hadn't stuttered once in Alex's presence. Apparently, he was no more enamored of her than she was of him, Alex thought with a wry smile. Though she couldn't help but think that Lord Christian Berkeley would make some very lucky lady a fine husband one day.

“Will you come?” Owen repeated, snapping Alex from her thoughts.

She wanted to go with him, but she was no longer the ready little wallflower she'd been mere days ago. Thanks to Owen, she understood the rules of the game now. And she intended to play by them. She gave Owen her most practiced coquettish smile and turned to the side to blink at him over one shoulder. “Ah, but someone quite wise once told me never to go alone somewhere with a man who might try to take advantage of me.”

Owen lifted a brow, giving her a skeptical look. “What if I promise to behave myself out there?”

She pressed the tip of her closed fan to her lips. “Where's the fun in that?”

Both his eyebrows shot up this time, and Alex couldn't help but feel a bit silly for her flirting. He'd taught her how, after all. He had to know what she was about.

“Come with me and find out,” he replied in a tone that made Alex's knees turn to honey. He flashed that charming dimple when he said it. She swallowed, trying desperately to still the pounding of her heart.

“Very well,” she said simply, walking past him on her way to the French doors that led to the balcony. She tried to ignore his rugged manly scent as she walked past.

Owen followed close behind her.

As soon as the door to the balcony closed after them, she turned to him. “So, what is it you wanted to say to me? Alone.”

Owen shoved a hand in his pocket and took a few steps to be nearer to her. “Lord Berkeley?” He allowed the name to hang in the air as a question with no further elaboration.

Alex kept her eyes downcast so Owen couldn't read her thoughts. This “being demure” business was actually quite difficult. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You said you enjoyed your dance with him immensely,” Owen replied. “Is he the man you fancy?”

She couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to say the lie about her affections outright. Cass and Lucy had instructed her on this point. “Let him think you fancy Berkeley. We've spoken to him. Christian will play the consummate suitor. He's the perfect choice.” It had been nothing more than pure, perfect coincidence that Lord Berkeley just happened to possess the physical qualities she'd already mentioned to Owen.

Alex pressed her lips together. “You knew I had a fancy for someone.…”

There. That wasn't quite a lie, but it also wasn't telling the truth. Oh, God help her for being so awful.

A muscle in Owen's jaw ticked. Was he angry? “I had no idea it was Viscount Berkeley.”

“You never asked. I never told you.” More prevaricating. “What does it matter who it is?”

Owen slapped his hand against his thigh and paced away from her. “It doesn't. I simply—” He turned back sharply to face her. “Do you think it wise to spend time with him? While we're still trying to make Lavinia jealous?”

Alex could have been knocked flat with a pin. Was Owen Monroe actually indicating that he didn't want her to spend time with another man? “I didn't know you cared so much about making Lavinia jealous,” she countered.

“I don't, but I—” He paced away again, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I suppose your part of our plan worked if Berkeley is now paying you attention.”

This was going to be the most difficult part. “Yes,” Alex breathed. “Thank you for that.” She fought the tears that unexpectedly popped to her eyes. If only Lucy and Cass hadn't been so adamant. “Make him think Berkeley is the only man for you,” Lucy had said. “Tell him how much you've fancied him,” Cass had added. Jane had merely looked up from her book and rolled her eyes a bit. “I want no part of this,” she'd declared.

“Don't act so innocent, Janie,” Lucy had said, her hands on her hips. “You pretended to have a nonexistent chaperone once upon a time and were embroiled in a positive scandal of your own making.”

“Yes,” Jane had replied. “That's precisely how I know how much trouble it all leads to.” She'd pushed up her spectacles and turned to Alex. “I wish you the best, Lady Alexandra, truly. But I cannot offer any advice. Besides, Lucy is the real plotter here. I hate to say it, but if you follow her advice, you have a very good chance of getting exactly what you want … eventually. Even I must admit that a bit of competition worked with me and Mrs. Langford, the war widow, when it came to Garrett.”

Alex hadn't particularly liked how Jane had said “eventually,” but she'd been heartened by the rest of the statement. And Lucy had been adamant that Alex
insist
that she was madly in love with Lord Berkeley.

Owen turned to Alex with a sharp slant to his voice, drawing her away from her thoughts once again. “So, that's it? You've got what you wanted.”

Alex's heart tugged. She didn't have what she wanted at all. But she had to continue to play this game. “I still intend to help you with Lavinia,” she assured him. “What else do you want to know about her?”

He shook his head. “I don't have any idea. It seems entirely hopeless.”

“How did it go with her … tonight?”

“As badly as you'd expect. She doesn't seem to be impressed with the things you told me to mention. I think it's because they're coming from me. I could tell her everything she'd ever wanted to hear, and she'd reject it coming from me.”

Alex stared at her slippers. She pushed one along the stone floor beneath her feet. “I'm sorry you're disappointed.”

He groaned. “I need you, Alex. Tell me something, anything that will help to make her come around to the idea of marrying me. I doubt my trying to woo her is of any use anymore. She seems to have a heart of stone, but
something
has to melt it.”

Mine is already melted.

Alex gulped. He wasn't jealous after all. At least not jealous enough to stop trying to court Lavinia. Oh God. What had Alex expected? Their parents were all counting on an engagement between Owen and Lavinia. In their world, one did what one's parents told one to do. That was how it worked. It would take more than one dance with another man to make Owen jealous enough to defy his father.

Alex paced over to the balustrade and stared out into the darkened gardens. “I don't know what else to say,” she murmured. “Perhaps you should simply tell Lavinia the truth. That Mother and Father want you to marry each other. See what she says.”

He strode over to her, and Alex looked up at him. The breeze ruffled his hair. “Thank you for your help, Alex.” He turned back toward the door.

Alex's voice was soft and low. “You're quite welcome.”

How had this conversation begun with Owen seeming to be jealous over Lord Berkeley and ended with him asking for additional ways to win Lavinia?

With one foot resting on the stone step that led back inside, Owen said, “Good luck with your viscount.”

Alex watched him go and expelled her pent-up breath.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Get up!”

Owen blinked against the harsh sunlight that was streaming through the window of his bedchamber. Though he'd come home quite alone, he'd gone on a bender last night. One of which he was not particularly proud, and now his head pounded like the devil and someone had kicked his mattress and yelled at him.

He blinked through his bleary haze some more, opening his eyes to see his father's rotund form standing above him.

“What time is it?” he asked through a cracked, dry throat.

“Well past noon, of course.” His father always sounded judgmental.

“I was out till after four.”

His father rolled his eyes. “That makes it all right?”

“No. That makes it exceedingly early. For me.”

Owen struggled to his feet and pulled on his dressing robe. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, braced his palms on his parted knees, and contemplated his father through unfocused eyes. “What can I help you with?”

His father grabbed his lapels and began to pace in front of Owen. “I want to know how you're progressing. With Lady Lavinia.”

“Ah, so the parents want a progress report, do they?”

His father hesitated briefly. “Yes. We do. All four of us.”

“It's progressing as well as can be expected.” Owen yawned and rubbed his fingers through his hair.

“Yet you were out till all hours instead of courting her?”

Owen rolled his head around on his neck. “On the contrary, I went to a ball to see her and then I went out till all hours.” And he'd gone out till all hours to try to blot out the memory of Alex dancing with Viscount Berkeley.

His father grunted. “You're not witty, you know.”

“I have reason to believe otherwise.”

His father yanked at his lapels again and resumed his pacing. “Is she taking a liking to you? Showing interest?”

“That task has proved impossible. The girl is an icicle. I've decided I'm just going to tell her we're meant to marry. Reason with her.”

“No!” His father's voice shook the rafters. “You must make her fall in love with you.”

Owen rubbed his temples. “I'm telling you that's far easier said than done.”

More lapel tugging ensued. “What's this? Lost your confidence, have you? Where's the lad who was so certain of himself not a fortnight ago?”

“He's been trying to pay court to a dragon,” Owen muttered.

“I won't have you insulting the chit, Owen. Now, listen here—”

“If it's a match with the duke's family you want so dearly, Father, why can't I court Lady
Alexandra
Hobbs instead? She's Lady Lavinia's younger sister.”