The Untamed Earl (12 page)

Her face clouded with confusion. “Did I—? Was that right? Was that flirtatious?”

He cleared his throat. “You were supposed to deliver a crushing setdown.”

Even more confusion crowded her face. “A setdown?”

“Yes, a crushing one.”

She glanced up at him from beneath her dark lashes. “I suppose you'll just have to try again, then.”

Try again? He already needed to cool off from his last attempt. But he could hardly tell her that. He was supposed to be teaching the girl a thing or two. Some tutor he made.

He gritted his teeth and pulled her into his arms again. She melted against him, her arms twining about his neck.

As he held his breath, every inch of his body longed to kiss her, to wrap his arms around her and—“Well?”

“Well what?” she breathed against his neck.

“I'm waiting for my crushing setdown.”

“Oh, oh yes. That.” She promptly pulled her arms from around his neck and took a sharp step back. “Unhand me, sir.”

He arched a brow. “That may have been a bit too dramatic.”

“It seems to me that a crushing setdown is by definition dramatic. What other sort of crushing setdown do you suggest?”

He shook his head. “When a gentleman is too forward, you must be forceful and direct.”

“Such as?”

“If, for example, I were to say, ‘Lady Alexandra, meet me in the conservatory.' What would you reply?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On who is doing the asking?”

He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing aloud at that. “Let's pretend it's someone you don't want to meet in the conservatory.”

“Oh, that's simple, then. I would say no.”

“And if it were someone you
did
want to meet?” he asked, partially afraid of the answer.

“I might say what time.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I told you, there is a man I fancy. If
he
were to ask me, I cannot honestly say I wouldn't agree.”

Owen pressed his lips together. Her honesty continued to amaze him. “You must at least
pretend
to be indignant. Pretend you may not be interested. Let's try again. Pretend I'm the man you fancy.”

Alex glanced at her slippers and cleared her throat.

“Lady Alexandra,” he said, pulling her into his arms and whispering into her ear. “Will you meet me in the conservatory?”

“Perhaps,” she breathed.

He pulled away from her and gave her a condemning glare. “Perhaps?” he said in an exasperated tone.

“Too much?”

“Yes. It's too much. At the very least, you should scold me for being too forward. And far too presumptuous.”

She nodded. “Very well. Let's try once more.”

He pulled her into his arms again. “Meet me in the conservatory?”

She promptly slapped his shoulder with her fan. “How terribly indecent of you. I'll do no such thing.” She glanced up at him. “How was that?”

“Better. But I must admit I'll still worry about you.” He dropped his arms from her and stepped back. “I suppose that's enough for today.” He scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Let's talk about Lavinia. What else can you tell me about her likes and dislikes?”

Alex frowned and tapped a finger to her jaw. “Let's see.”

“You mentioned gifts. Should I get her some flowers?” he offered.

“Flowers are … fine … or…” Alex glanced away.

He eyed her cautiously. “Or what?”

“Well, flowers are perfectly lovely, of course, but they're a bit … predictable, don't you think?”

He shoved one hand in his pocket. “Predictable? I thought all ladies liked flowers.”

“I suppose some of us do. But Lavinia much prefers something unique, something interesting. Something none of the other suitors are giving the ladies whom they fancy.”

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “Like what?”

Alexandra bit her lip. “Oh, you know, something like perhaps a … a … rock.”

His eyes widened incredulously. “A rock?”

“Er, oh, you know, a nice smooth one that you found when you were out on a walk or something that, er, caught your eye.” She fluttered her hands in the air.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can't say that a rock has caught my eye since I was a lad of seven. Are you
quite
certain that Lady Lavinia would actually appreciate such a thing?”

Alex didn't meet his eyes, but she nodded emphatically. “Yes. Oh yes. She adores unique items.”

Owen scrunched up his nose in a scowl. “She does seem a bit unconventional, I suppose.”

Alex didn't stop nodding. “Oh, she is. She is. I assure you.”

Owen shook his head again. Lady Lavinia sounded mad, if you asked him. But who would know better than her sister what she liked and disliked? “Very well. I'll think of something … like a rock.”

“She will be so pleased.”

“Frankly, I'd rather give her nothing and simply talk to her.”

“I would like that ever so much—I mean, Lavinia would.”

Owen's grin widened. “To date, she has not struck me as the talking sort.
You
actually strike me as that sort.” He shook his head once more and turned back to face Alex. “What else do you have to teach me? About being a gentleman, that is?”

Alex bit her lip. It was quite fetching. Owen had to look away.

“Have you heard the tales of King Arthur's court?”

“Yes, but—”

“Lavinia is quite interested in that sort of a hero. One who will pay her courtly love.”

“Courtly love?” Owen looked as if he'd just swallowed a poisonous mushroom. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't courtly love predicated on the notion of a medieval knight and a
married
lady?”

“Yes,” Alex allowed. “That is true. But, of course, Lavinia isn't married—not yet.”

“But she wants her husband to treat her as though he were a knight of the realm, and perhaps not consummate the relationship?”

Alex's face heated briskly.

“Forgive me if I went too far,” Owen replied, responding to her blush. “But it sounds absolutely daft to me. I don't think your sister is terribly realistic.”

I don't think so either.

“She's read a great deal of medieval literature,” Alex offered.

“Yes, well, I'm no Lancelot. And good thing, by the way—the chap made his king a cuckold.”

“I can't argue with that,” Alex replied. “Nor can I explain Lavinia's preferences, but—”

Owen grabbed his head between his hands. “Enough about Lavinia for now. I shudder to hear any more. The next thing, you'll be telling me she wants me to join a troupe of troubadours and sing for my supper.”

“I don't think she'd look askance upon it,” Alex responded before bursting out laughing at the thought. “Do you happen to own a mandolin?”

“You find that funny, do you?” Owen said, advancing on her.

“No.” Alex shook her head vigorously. “Not at all.” A smile cracked her lips apart. “Very well. Perhaps a little. A very little. It's exceedingly funny to picture you playing a mandolin.”

Owen crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her down the length of his nose. “The other day you mentioned a list.”

“Wha-what?” Alex coughed. She pounded her fist to her chest to clear her throat. “Did I?”

“You said something about how you'd been forced to cross a smashing debut off your list.”

Alex pressed her hand to her chest. “I did?”

“Yes. Tell me more about that.”

Alex turned and walked over to the window that looked down upon the street, one of the most fashionable in Mayfair. “When I was fifteen, I wrote a list.”

“What sort of list?”

“A list of the things I hoped to accomplish in life.”

Owen slid both hands into his pockets and joined her near the window. “And?”

“And it was silly and I was young and—”

“A smashing debut was on your list?”

“Ye—yes,” Alex allowed. She propped a shoulder against the window frame.

“And that didn't happen?”

Alex slowly shook her head. “No. I'm sorry to say it did not.”

“What happened at your debut, Alex?” The tenderness in his voice surprised him.

Alex heaved a sigh. “I was a dismal failure. No one asked me to dance. I tripped over my hem and spilled ratafia on my gown, and then I sat along the wall the entire evening. Mother told me she was disappointed in me.”

“What did Lavinia say?”

“Not much. Lavinia was interested only in the fact that it was the beginning of her fourth Season and she had yet to make a match.”

“Why do you think you launched so poorly?”

Alex turned back toward the large ballroom. “I'd hoped—foolishly—that a handsome dashing gentleman would ask me to dance and launch me into Society with great fanfare.”

“That's why you want me to dance with you?” Owen breathed.

“Precisely,” Alex replied so softly that he could barely hear her.

“What else was on your list?”

She shook her head again and faced him with an overly bright smile. “What about you? What is on your list of accomplishments?”

He snorted. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” she replied. “There must be something you want to do. Something you're good at.”

He clenched his teeth. The horses he trained flashed through his mind. Followed by the memory of the little girl coughing in the back of the farmer's wagon. “Don't confuse me with someone noble,” he said. “I'm not.”

“Yes, you are. Whether you know it or not.”

His jaw tightened again, and he glanced away. When he looked back at her, he first ensured his typical smile was back in place. “You didn't answer me. What else was on your list?”

Alex returned his sly smile. “
That
will cost you another dance and another lesson, my lord.”

He arched a brow. “I do believe you're already learning, my lady.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On the afternoon of her third meeting with Owen, Alex had decided to be daring and adventurous. Daring was called for because time was quickly running out. The Rutherfords' ball was to be held tomorrow evening, and she and Owen had already agreed that it was the perfect venue to put their respective plans into action. He would dance with her and thus draw the fickle attention of the
ton
in her direction, and she would put in a good word for him with her sister, thereby giving him an opening that he could then use to employ the newfound knowledge he had of Lavinia's likes and dislikes.

Alex briefly wondered if Owen would arrive bearing a rock. That might be awkward. She hoped she wouldn't bear witness to that particular bit. She mostly hoped Lavinia wouldn't fly into one of her rages at the sight of such a gift, whereby Owen might tell her where he got the idea and expose her entire charade. It was dubious, to be sure. But Alex didn't have long to contemplate it. She'd been waiting in Cassandra Swift's ballroom only five minutes before the door opened and Owen appeared, wearing chocolate-colored breeches, black top boots, white shirtfronts and cravat, and a dark gray waistcoat. His hair was neatly slicked and the gleam in his blue eyes told her he might just be interested in being bold today, too.

“Good afternoon, my lady,” he said, bowing at the waist to her.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she replied, falling into a deep curtsy.

“Are you in need of champagne for today's lesson? Or perhaps port?” He grinned at her.

“I think I can manage without spirits today, thank you.”

Owen made his way across the wide expanse and came to stand near her. “If you have anything important left to tell me about Lavinia, I suggest you do it now before the Rutherfords' ball.”

Alex nodded. She'd been expecting this question and she was prepared. “Yes. There is one thing.”

His eyes met hers, clearly interested. Alex wished for the hundredth time they didn't have to discuss Lavinia so often. Though she supposed they wouldn't even be here together if it weren't for Lavinia. Confound it. Alex folded her hands in front of her serenely. “Lavinia, er, she doesn't like horses. Don't bring them up.”

Owen's eyebrows went up. “Horses, you say?”

“Yes.” Alex glanced away. “She's frightened half out of her wits by them.”

“There's nothing to be frightened of in a horse.”

“I know that and you know that, but for some reason, Lavinia detests the creatures.” Good thing Alex wasn't standing outside, closer to the possible lightning.

Owen's voice was resigned. “Very well. I'll ensure I don't bring up horses. Or at least show no affinity toward them.”

“That's probably best.” Alex nodded.

“As for you, you're already a proficient flirt and a skilled dancer. I'm not certain what else to show you,” he said with a laugh.

Alex took a deep breath. This next part was especially daring. But daring was the order of the day. “I have an idea.”

He turned his head toward her. “What's that?”

She squeezed her hands together. “It's a question, really.”

“Yes?” he prodded.

Alex chewed on her bottom lip. She couldn't even look at him when she said it. “What should I do if a gentleman becomes too forward?”

“We already went over this—”

“No,” she said, her ears burning. “I mean
too
forward.”

He eyed her cautiously.

“What if he attempts to kiss me?” she finally blurted.

Owen's eyes rounded. “Slap him,” he said, his voice taking on a threatening, angry tone she'd never heard before.