The Untamed Earl (7 page)

She blushed beautifully. “You want to walk?” She pointed at herself. “With me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, my lady. If you would do me the honor.” He bowed again and then held out his arm.

The lady in blue gave him a strained pinched look and addressed her sister. “Go on, then. I'll be at the refreshment table.”

“Very well.” The orange beauty put her hand on his arm. Marriage to her wouldn't be so bad. She was not only lush but she seemed biddable, too. The perfect combination.

He covered her hand with his larger one. She was a bit too stiff, too anxious. He could tell by the rigid way in which she held her arm, the slight shaking of her palm on his sleeve. Owen was used to ladies who danced effortlessly, who flirted effortlessly, who laughed at his bawdy jests, and drank a bit too much wine. These balls for innocents were quite a different affair altogether. They were full of nervous would-be wives who shook as if they might break.

“Are you frightened?” he ventured.

“No. Why?” But the alacrity with which she'd said those two words belied their truth.

He shrugged casually. “I don't know. You seem a bit … anxious.”

“Anxious? Me? No!” Again, the words were uttered far too quickly, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly, indicating that her breathing was increasing. Though he had to admit he was enjoying the view of her décolletage, which was on full display. He could see it well, since he was a full head taller than she.

“Not anxious?” he asked, slowing their pace a bit, hoping to put her at ease.

“N-n-not at all.” She pushed up her chin, and Owen had to give her a mental point for her bravery. She was clearly filled with nerves but didn't want to admit it. Well played, Lady Lavinia. Courting her in the span of a month was going to be a simple task indeed. He had to wonder, however, if she knew he was her intended after all. Why else was she so full of nerves? He sighed and decided not to give it another thought. Perhaps it was merely her disposition. Father had sworn the lady knew nothing about their intended courtship.

“So, tell me, my lady. How are you enjoying the ball?” he asked, staring deeply into her eyes. He'd yet to find a lady who wasn't enthralled with his dark blue gaze.

She glanced away first. He'd won.

“I like it very well,” she said with the twinge of a tremor in her voice. “Though I don't think my sister is enjoying herself much.”

“It's kind of you to have such regard for your sister.”

“It's rather a pastime in our family,” she replied.

Owen narrowed his eyes on her. Now,
that
was an interesting thing to say. Perhaps Lady Lavinia wasn't so vapid as he'd expected her to be. She certainly hadn't proved difficult. Not yet, at least. Obviously, everyone had been exaggerating her temper.

He put his hand on her elbow and pulled her a bit closer to see how she would react. Surely she wouldn't slap him or throw a fit here in a crowded ballroom.

Instead, she sucked in her breath sharply but otherwise remained as stiff as a board. Nothing difficult about her. He resumed their walk.

“Your sister is younger, is she not?” Owen ventured. “Just made her come-out recently? Perhaps she's yet to develop a taste for this type of amusement.”

The lady in orange shook her head. “Oh no, Lavinia is my older sister.”

First, Owen nearly tripped. Then he froze. Very bad form. He composed himself before leaning toward her. He
must
have heard her incorrectly. “What did you say?” He leaned even closer to ensure he'd hear correctly this time.

“I said Lavinia is older. By three years. Why, I've only just made
my
come-out this past spring myself.”

Owen pressed his lips together. The diminutive brunette at his side continued to walk and he matched her steps as if in a trance. Now,
this
was a pickle. How in heaven's name would he extract himself from this error? “Do you mean to say that you're
not
Lady Lavinia Hobbs?”

“No, of course not. I'm Lady Alexandra Hobbs.” She laughed. “And I must say I don't think you've done quite a good enough job of impressing Lavinia so far. Mother tells me you mean to marry her.”

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

As soon as their turn about the room came to an end and Lord Owen had thanked her charmingly, Alexandra hurried back over to hide behind the potted palm near Lavinia. He hadn't known it, but Lord Owen Monroe had saved her from an exceedingly unpleasant conversation with her sister earlier. One in which Lavinia had been denigrating the looks and clothing choices of every lady at the ball, in addition to her usual rant against bluestockings and any females who chose to better their minds. She'd just launched into a similar rant against gentlemen with strong political views when Lord Owen arrived and clearly mistook Alexandra for Lavinia.

For a moment, an awful, wonderful moment, Alexandra actually believed that he'd meant to ask
her
to walk with him, that he knew who she was and had actually chosen her. But it became clear soon enough that that wasn't the case, and while her heart plummeted into her slippers, she was still fond enough of a good jest that she looked forward to the outcome of the little debacle.

The look on Lord Owen's face when he discovered he'd asked the wrong sister to walk with him had been ever so amusing. Even more amusing? Lavinia's anticipated reaction to Owen reappearing to correct his error. If Alexandra didn't miss her guess, that was precisely what he meant to do.

She watched as he grabbed two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing footman and downed them both in quick succession. Alexandra smiled to herself. Drinking to excess? Check.

With a determined look in his eye that Alexandra could see even from her vantage point, Owen scanned the ballroom, spotted Lavinia, and stalked toward her. Alexandra's smile widened. Overbearing? Certainly. If Alexandra didn't miss her second guess, Owen was about to be exceedingly overbearing.

She held her breath and pushed her back against the wall as he approached, hoping he would not see her behind the tree. Lavinia was standing with Lady Sarah Highgate. The two were politely talking. Though from what Alexandra could overhear, Lady Sarah wasn't any fonder of her sister's negative words than she had been. Their conversation ended abruptly when Owen marched up. The click of his shoes against the parquet floor stopped, indicating his arrival. Alexandra forced herself to lean forward just a bit and peered through the fronds.

“My lady,” he said to Lavinia, bowing.

Lavinia regarded the future earl down the length of her nose, her lips pressed tightly together. “My lord?” she intoned haughtily. “Back so soon? I haven't seen Alexandra, if you're looking for her.”

“I am not,” he said in a voice Alexandra could tell was designed to flatter.

Lavinia sighed, then flourished a hand toward Lady Sarah. “May I introduce Lady Sarah Highgate?”

“My pleasure, my lady.” Owen's voice remained polite as he exchanged niceties with Lady Sarah, bowing over her hand.

“Lady Sarah is unattached,” Lavinia continued, pointing her nose in the air. “Perhaps
she
would like to take a turn about the room with you.” She gave him a tight smile. “Though you might have a bit of competition. The Marquess of Branford is rumored to be making an appearance here tonight, and he is extremely enamored of Lady Sarah already.”

Alexandra cringed. Oh, Lavinia had really got her back up this time.

Poor Lady Sarah, who was absolutely gorgeous with black hair and light green eyes, blushed to her roots. Alexandra wanted to reach out and squeeze Sarah's arm in sympathy. Let it never be said that Lavinia didn't have a penchant for embarrassing others.

“Oh, no. No, he's not. I'm—,” Lady Sarah stammered.

“Pish-posh,” Lavinia replied, plucking at the overly ornate blue reticule that dangled from her wrist. The one she'd insisted have bangles, lace,
and
embellished embroidery. “Everyone knows you're the belle of the Season, Sarah. Admit it.” There was an undeniable undercurrent of jealousy in Lavinia's voice.

Lady Sarah shook her head vigorously, so vigorously that one of her dark curls popped out of her coiffure and bounced along her forehead. “Oh, no, not at all. I—I must go, actually. I'm afraid my next dance is spoken for.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Lord Owen replied, smiling benevolently at the harried Lady Sarah. “But indeed, I did come to ask
you
to dance, Lady Lavinia.” Uh-oh. Lavinia hated dancing, but how could poor Lord Owen know that? He gave Lavinia a charming smile that made Alexandra mentally sigh.

“Me?” Lavinia pointed to herself, a look of pure surprise on her pinched face.

“Yes,” Lord Owen replied.

“Excuse me, won't you?” Lady Sarah hastened to add. “I look forward to speaking to you again sometime, Lady Lavinia. Good evening, Lord Owen, it's been a pleasure.”

Good for Lady Sarah for escaping.
Alexandra could only feel empathy for the poor young lady.

“Well?” Lord Owen asked Lavinia as soon as Lady Sarah hastened off.

Lavinia crinkled up her nose in that way of hers that made it seem as if she'd just smelled something exceedingly disagreeable. “Are you
certain
you wish to dance with
me,
Lord Owen?”

He bowed. “Of course. Why would you question my sincerity?”

Lavinia's voice took on a rigid, condescending tone, one that Alexandra was only too familiar with. “I don't know. Perhaps it's because earlier I got the distinct impression that you had forgotten my name.” Her smile tightened further. Alexandra wrung her hands. Lavinia looked a bit like an angry skeleton when she smiled.

Lord Owen's voice rose a bit. “Of course not, my lady. How could I forget one as radiant as you?”

“Radiant? Did you actually say ‘radiant'?” Lavinia's laugh was a derisive snort.

Alexandra winced again. Lavinia could be ruthless when she was annoyed by someone. Which was quite a long list of people, actually.

Lord Owen's voice took on an edge of impatience. “Will you make me repeat my request, my lady?”

“What was your request again?” Lavinia said, studying her slippers.

“Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?” His voice was definitely tight now, but still he smiled his most charming smile—the one that made Alexandra's knees decidedly weak. Oh, how could her sister say no to that? And him with that distracting dimple in his cheek? Alexandra wanted to burst through the palm and say yes herself. Instead, she bit the inside of her lip and leaned closer in order to hear more efficiently.

“I find it interesting, Lord Owen, that you seem so keen upon dancing this evening,” Lavinia continued, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alexandra nearly groaned. This was it. Lavinia was going to deliver a crushing setdown. She was famous for delivering crushing setdowns, usually directly after she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why's that?” came Owen's innocent reply.

“I've never known you to be much of one for dancing with young ladies at balls.”

There was that knee-weakening smile again. “If I have not been keen upon dancing, my lady, perhaps it is because until now I had no hope that
you
would consent to be my partner.” He bowed. Alexandra nearly swooned.

Lavinia laughed. Out loud. Long and overly loud. When she finished laughing, she said, “I don't know what gave you the hope that I might consent.” She lifted her chin. “You're known for your charm, Lord Owen, or so I've heard, but I must ask you, do silly statements such as your last one ever truly work on the other members of my sex?”

Lord Owen's face paled for just a moment. He looked as if he'd swallowed a bug. But as quickly as it had dimmed, his grin returned. “I take it you don't find me charming, Lady Lavinia?” He eyed her warily now.

“Not in the least.” Lavinia stuck out her elbow, and it nearly poked Alexandra through the palm. “Though you might charm my sister. She's easily impressed.”

Alexandra had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking in indignation at that statement.

Lord Owen slid his other hand into his pocket. “My pride is wounded.”

Lavinia snorted. “I doubt it. I'm not entirely certain you're capable of wounded pride.”

“I assure you, I am.” He straightened his broad shoulders. “Now, must I ask you to dance a third time?”

“Save your breath, my lord,” Lavinia replied, tugging at her long white glove. “The answer is no.”

“No?” he repeated. “I don't understand.”

“Not familiar with the word, my lord? Why does that not surprise me? It's the opposite of yes. However, let me tell you what
I
understand.”

He still looked wary, but he nodded jerkily. “By all means.”

“I understand that your sudden interest in me has more to do with your pocket than with any of
my
charms, considerable though they may be. I understand that until you took a turn about the room with Alexandra earlier, who no doubt set you straight, you'd in fact forgotten my name. I understand that our misguided parents are much more interested in our match than you and I could ever be, evidenced by my mother's inviting you here and recently informing me that you were considered quite a good catch when heretofore she'd often referred to you as a drunken lout, and finally, Lord Owen, I understand that I intend to leave you now. Perhaps you can locate a lady who finds you infinitely more charming than I do. No doubt it won't be an easy task, but I wish you luck.” And with that, Lavinia turned on her heel and flounced away like an angry, flushed bluebird.

Lord Owen stood there, blinking, a completely confused look marring his fine features as if he had no idea what had just happened.