The Untamed Earl (9 page)

“You must seem vaguely bored by my attentions,” he continued.

Vaguely bored? Good heavens, she wasn't an actress. How would she ever manage even to
pretend
that she was vaguely bored by him?

She bit her lip. “I'm not certain about—”

“Of course you're not,” he replied. “That's why you need my help. The reason you've failed to launch properly—and forgive me, but most likely the reason this chap you're interested in has yet to come up to scratch—is because you're too eager, too interested, too … available.”

Alexandra gasped. “That sounds positively indecent.”

“Not at all.” His grin was wicked. “But if we have any hope of convincing the
ton
that I have an interest in you, let alone convincing anyone else, you must become much more intriguing and mysterious quite quickly, and that begins with dancing properly.”

“You'll be—” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “—teaching me how to dance?”

He eyed her up and down, and Alexandra had the mortifying thought that he was picturing her without her gown. “Among other things. So, tell me. How will we manage to meet?”

Alexandra pressed her clammy palms against her skirts. “I'm able to slip away from home once in a while in the afternoons, but I'm not certain where we would meet.”

“You sneak out of your house?” He stared at her as if she were some sort of a mythical creature, like a faun.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Where do you go?”

“That is none of your business, my lord.”

Lord Owen chuckled. “Indeed, it is not.” He contemplated the matter for a moment, rubbing his chin. He finally snapped his fingers. “I've got it. Do you know my sister—Cassandra, Lady Swifdon?”

“Yes. Not well, of course, but we've met.”

“Excellent. Pay a call on her tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock.”

Alexandra frowned. “I don't understand.”

“I'll be there. Bring your maid with you. It will all seem perfectly suitable.”

“But won't your sister find it odd that—?”

“If you'd known some of the antics my sister and her friends got up to before she married Julian—er, the Earl of Swifdon—you wouldn't ask that question.” Lord Owen grinned at Alexandra again, and she couldn't look away from that fetching dimple. “Suffice it to say that Cass will understand.”

Alexandra nodded. It was a risk and her stomach was tied in knots just contemplating it, but she was the one who had started this game and she would see it through. Besides, what better opportunity would there be for the two of them to spend time together? Owen needed the chance to learn that she was, in fact, the most compatible match for him, and she needed the opportunity to confirm that he was indeed the man she wanted to marry. Not to mention this was all very dashing and adventurous of her. Thomas would be proud. She couldn't resist Lord Owen's offer. She smiled up at him hesitantly. “Very well. I'll meet you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perfect.” His white teeth flashed in his grin.

“I shall tell you everything you need to know about Lavinia, and you will … teach me how to dance.”

His grin was wicked again. “Among other things.”

 

CHAPTER NINE

Owen couldn't sleep. He rolled onto his back in his oversized bed. The dark blue satin sheets slid beneath him and he punched at the down pillow under his head. Perhaps his difficulty in finding rest was because he was in his own bed for the first time in half a dozen nights. His bachelor's quarters in St. James's were adequate, but he much preferred to be in the company of the lady of his choice. Spending his time at a debut ball this evening had severely limited his options, and by the time his discussion with Alexandra Hobbs had ended, he'd decided that he no longer had a desire to go to one of the gaming hells. Odd but true.

The night's events played through his mind. Cass needed spectacles. She had told him Lavinia was the one in the peach gown. She was clearly wrong, and as a result, he'd completely bungled his first attempt at wooing Lady Lavinia. Given her demeanor, it didn't appear that it would be particularly easy to win back her good graces. The lady seemed like a shrew, honestly. Everyone said she was
difficult
. They'd obviously been
underestimating
the woman. Owen disliked shrews. He much preferred a lady who was open, happy, smiling, dancing, flirting. One like … Lady Alexandra. Minus the flirting, of course. She was a strawberry-scented breath of fresh air, compared to her sister. Not only that, but he also found himself more attracted to her physically than he was to her sister. Not that it mattered, but Lady Alexandra had the lush look that had always appealed to him. It had been only good fortune that she'd seemed so ready to help him. In exchange for
his
help, of course, but that only interested him more. Lady Alexandra was obviously someone who'd learned early in life that negotiation was a necessary skill that one must use to one's full advantage. Astute of her.

He had no compunction about making a deal with Lavinia's sister. They'd both be getting something they wanted out of it. He would receive the necessary information he needed to properly court Lavinia and hopefully bypass additional encounters with her prickly personality. Lady Alexandra would be gaining instant social standing due to his interest in her. A few dances at a few balls, and the collective tongue of the
ton
would be wagging.

He had only one concern: What if the plan backfired and Lavinia didn't appreciate him paying court to her sister, however innocently? Ladies tended to be quite sensitive to such things. Especially given the story Upton had told about the dinner party and the tapestry ripping. But if Lady Alexandra thought she could explain it adequately enough, he would have to trust her. Not that trust came easily to him. It did not. But frankly, he had little choice in the matter. His first attempt at wooing Lady Lavinia had been a dismal failure. Owen was not used to dismal failures. Not where women were concerned. Besides, he could tell Lady Lavinia himself that he was paying attention to her sister in order to get closer to her. That should feed her obviously large opinion of herself.

He groaned and rolled back to his stomach. This “finding a wife” business was already turning out to be more trouble than he'd bargained for. If only his father had chosen Lady Alexandra. She, at least, seemed reasonable. Though she apparently was enamored of some other chap. Owen yawned. No matter. He'd taken Lady Alexandra up on her proposal. By the end of the month, he had no doubts that he'd be successfully, if not happily, betrothed to Lady Lavinia Hobbs.

*   *   *

Alexandra wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her waist and made her way over to the window that looked down upon the square. Her father's town house was in the most highly sought-after corner of Mayfair, directly across from the park. She sighed. She'd grown up in a house of privilege, a house with money and servants and fine clothing and the best food. But loneliness still plagued her. If only she'd had her sister to play with—but Lavinia had been treated like a delicate doll, unable to soil her clothing or have a hair out of place. It had been the way of things in their household for nearly as long as Alexandra could remember. Alexandra understood why. When Lavinia was eight years old, she'd taken ill with a lung disease and nearly died. Alexandra recalled little about it other than how dark and quiet the house had been, how it had smelled like medicine, with doctors coming and going. Her parents had been pale and somber and alternated their days at Lavinia's bedside. The doctors had been so sure the little girl wouldn't make it, Father had commissioned the making of a small coffin. It was painted white and lined with pink satin with a silken pillow resting inside. It frightened five-year-old Alexandra terribly. After Lavinia pulled through, Father had had the coffin burned, and a great celebration ensued. Ever since, Lavinia had been indulged in every way possible. Alexandra had a vague memory of a sister who played with her and treated her well, but for years after her illness, Lavinia hadn't been allowed outdoors or anywhere that might make her ill, and she'd been catered to as if she were a tiny queen.

The duke and duchess mostly ignored their other two healthy children, as if they were afterthoughts. If it weren't for Thomas, Alexandra would have been entirely alone. Lavinia was the eldest and the most beautiful, the more highly valued daughter. Thomas was the only boy and heir to the dukedom, a marquess in his own right, which left Alexandra in her own set of circumstances. Less wanted, less desired, less special. She had learned to live with that. She had been fine with it, if not pleased, until her parents decided that Lavinia would marry Owen Monroe. Why? Of all men in London, why did it have to be him? There were plenty of other titled gentlemen who would rush to marry the eldest daughter of a duke if asked. Men to whom Lavinia might even be more welcoming.

Alexandra sank to the tufted ice-blue window seat and stared out into the darkness of the London night sky. It wasn't as if she could tell her parents her feelings. Not only would they dismiss them, but they would probably laugh at her as well. Imagine, little Alexandra thinking she should have the beau meant for Lavinia? Preposterous. To make things worse, her parents both insisted upon Lavinia's marrying first. She would find it unacceptable to be left on the shelf while her little sister took a groom. That hadn't been much of a problem until now, because with Alexandra's lackluster come-out, she was hardly in danger of receiving marriage proposals. But now, now when she wanted to woo Owen Monroe, not only would she not be allowed to, but even if it worked, Lavinia would have to find some other gentleman to marry first.
That
seemed unlikely because given her description and demands, Lavinia apparently wanted a man who didn't exist. One who loved to write poetry and sing ballads about her. One who was only courtly and courteous to her. One who would worship her and be equally interested in shopping for her fripperies on Bond Street as he was painting a portrait of her in her honor. Lavinia wanted a knight from a bygone era. At any rate, if that man did exist, he certainly wasn't Owen Monroe. It made Alexandra laugh even to consider Owen writing poetry or singing a ballad, and shopping for fripperies was entirely out of the question.

Regardless, if such a paragon did exist, where would Alexandra find him? Because now she was convinced that she would have to deliver Lavinia's perfect beau to her before she herself would be allowed to marry Owen, and that was if she could convince Owen that they were in fact perfect for each other. And were they?

Oh, it was all quite complicated and she'd made it more so by proposing that she be the one to teach Owen how best to court her sister. Perhaps someday, when they were happily married, he'd forgive her for her duplicity. Only one thing assuaged her guilt, and that was the fact that Owen and Lavinia were obviously not suited. How could Father not see that?

Alexandra mentally answered her own question. Her father cared only about social connections. As did her mother. Her parents may have told Lord Moreland that Owen needed to court Lavinia properly and gain her consent, but in the end, they would force the marriage if they had to. Alexandra knew it.

Alexandra traced her finger along the windowpane. Lord Owen Monroe. He'd seemed a bit surprised by some of the things she'd said to him tonight. Alexandra didn't blame him. It had to be a bit off-putting to have one's potential future sister-in-law offer to help you court her sister in exchange for a dance or three. Alexandra was nothing if not practical. She did want Owen to help her become sought after in Society. The ridiculous part was that she wanted to be sought after to gain
his
attention. What better way than to spend more time in his company? He'd invited her to his sister's house, and Alexandra was so excited and nervous about it, she couldn't sleep. Would Lady Swifdon think she was too forward? She hoped not. Cassandra Swift seemed quite kind and beautiful.

Her brother, Owen Monroe, however, might be thought to be a scoundrel, a rake, and a drunken lout, but he was exceedingly popular, the perfect person to assist Alexandra in leveraging her standing in Society. However, the truth was that he wasn't a scoundrel at all. He was a gentleman. A true gentleman. One who looked out for weaker people, like a twelve-year-old stable boy being harassed by two bucks.

Alexandra squeezed her arms around her middle. Tomorrow Owen would teach her to dance and she would teach him, what? Something Lavinia liked? Er, well, actually something that Lavinia didn't like. Something Lavinia detested. Alexandra said a brief prayer to the heavens to forgive her for her deceit. Oh, she'd tell him
some
truth. Some of it would actually help her case. The romantic gentleman part, for instance. The rest she would just have to extemporize. She would ask for his forgiveness later. In the meantime, let the teaching begin.

 

CHAPTER TEN

The knock on Swifdon's door sounded at precisely two o'clock the next afternoon. Owen had only just arrived himself minutes before. He was not an early riser. Never had been. He'd barely had time to bathe, dress, and find a meal before dashing over to his sister's house to meet Lady Alexandra for their first lesson. Somehow he'd known she would be prompt, exactly the way he was usually late. But today, for her, he'd made an effort.

Owen paced about Swifdon's foyer while the butler answered the door and ushered Lady Alexandra into the house. The smell of strawberries swirled into the foyer. She stood there, prim and proper in a bright yellow gown and matching bonnet, looking a bit uncertain but quite pretty with the afternoon sunlight touching one fair cheek. Her diminutive red-haired maid stood behind her, peeking around her mistress, a wary look on her face.