The Untamed Earl (19 page)

His father's eyes widened, and his face quickly turned a mottled shade of red. “Lady Alexandra—Why, that's preposterous! Is the girl even wearing long skirts yet? It's Lady
Lavinia
whom the duke wants you to marry, and it's Lady Lavinia you shall marry.”

“I don't see why he's so set on it. She's a horror.”

“You're not exactly the most brilliant catch yourself. You should be honored the duke will accept you, what with your tarnished reputation.”

“Not to mention my ignominious matriculation at Harrow.”

His father turned toward the door, completely ignoring Owen's remark. “The one thing I thought I could count on you to do, Owen, was charm a female.”

That was it. His father had just thrown down the gauntlet. There was no way Owen wasn't going to scoop it right up.

“Fine. Don't worry. I have everything perfectly in control. I have … help.”

His father's bushy eyebrows arched. “Help? What sort of help?”

“I've enlisted the aid of someone quite close to Lady Lavinia to give me the details on her likes and dislikes. I'll redouble my efforts to woo her in the span of a fortnight.”

His father narrowed his eyes on him but looked a bit mollified. “Very well. See that you do, Owen. We're all counting on you. Don't fail me. For once.”

*   *   *

The door to Brooks's swung open, and Owen was welcomed by a bowing footman. “My lord,” the man intoned as Owen handed him his hat. Owen glanced around. The club was busy for a Wednesday afternoon.

“Have you seen the Duke of Claringdon? Or the Earl of Swifdon?” Owen asked.

“I believe they're in the blue drawing room, my lord,” the footman answered.

Owen went directly there. He found Claringdon, Swifdon, Cavendish, and a man who looked exactly like … Cavendish. The four men were talking, laughing, and drinking brandy.

“Monroe, there you are,” Swifdon said, standing to clap Owen on the back. He gestured to a seat next to them. “Join us.”

“Good to see you, Claringdon.” Owen slumped into a nearby leather chair. “I must say I'm a bit surprised to see you here again, Cavendish. Let alone
two
of you.”

“Have you met my twin brother, Cade?” Cavendish flourished a hand in his brother's direction.

“I don't believe I have.” Owen shook hands with the captain's twin.

“Always a pleasure to meet another blue blood,” Cade replied. Owen noticed that the captain winced. He didn't know much about Rafferty Cavendish's twin, other than the fact that Cade had recently returned from years of being at sea. Apparently, until his return, Cavendish had believed Cade to be dead.

“The pleasure is mine,” Owen said, settling back into his chair.

“How is your engagement proceeding?” Claringdon asked. He stopped a footman to order a brandy for Owen.

“As you all already told me, the lady is … difficult.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Swifdon said. “Can't you just tell her your parents want the match and be done with it?”

Owen sat back in his chair and rested his arm over his head. “I wish I could. It's more complicated than that.”

“How?” Swifdon asked.

“First of all, the duke insists that his daughter fall in love with me.”

Claringdon winced. “That's not easy.”

“No it is not, and with this particular lady, it's even more difficult than usual. She has the personality of an angry she-cat.”

“And?” Cavendish prodded.

“There's something else?” Swifdon asked.

“There's always something else,” Cavendish said with a grin.

“What else?” Swifdon asked.

Owen took a deep breath. “In the course of trying to court Lady Lavinia, I've gotten to know her sister and I find I am much more interested in pursuing
her.
”

Cavendish's brows shot up. Claringdon nodded sagely, and Swifdon whistled.

“Good God. That does seem like a pickle,” Swifdon said.

“Have you mentioned this to your father?” Claringdon asked.

“Yes. He insists it's Lady Lavinia or no one. He's threatening to cut off my allowance. Apparently, the duke is interested in marrying off his daughters one at a time.”

Cade, who had been entirely silent up to this point, announced, “Well, that's easy enough.” He took a hearty sip of his brandy.

Owen's head snapped to the side to face the man. “Easy? How?”

“Just find a chap to marry the first chit and run off with the second,” Cade said with a roguish grin.

Swifdon and Claringdon laughed. Rafe shook his head and groaned. “The man's not like you, Cade. He has morals.”

Cade tossed a hand in the air and went back to drinking his brandy. “Morals are overrated.”

“Don't listen to him,” Rafe said. “You cannot run off with the girl.”

Owen rubbed the back of his neck. “At present, I'm not at all certain she even
wants
to run off with me.”

Now Swifdon shook his head. “You might begin by telling her how you feel.”

Owen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Cade looked positively horrified.

“We're not all of us adept at writing love letters as you did with Cass,” Rafe said with a laugh to Swifdon.

“You can always do what I did with Lucy,” Claringdon announced.

Owen took another gulp of brandy. “What's that?”

“Get drunk, punch a tree, climb up into her window, and kiss her.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

There would be no more meetings, no more stolen moments in Cass's ballroom. Alex read the letter from Owen with a mixture of frustrated tears in her eyes and burgeoning anger in her heart.

You've done all you can for me,
he wrote.
Thank you for your assistance. I will endeavor to do my best alone.

He had been jealous seeing her with Berkeley; Alex knew he had been. She couldn't prove it, but she knew it deep down. Just as Cass and Lucy had assured her he would be. Then why wasn't it working? Why wasn't he coming to heel? Why wasn't he admitting that Alex was the one he had feelings for? Were his father's edict and Lavinia's dowry so important to him after all? Had Alex been wrong about him?

She posed these same questions to Cass and Lucy several hours later when she paid a call to the countess. The duchess happened to also be visiting her friend.

“Oh, dear, no, no. You're not seeing it clearly,” Lucy said, stirring two lumps of sugar in her teacup.

Cass sat in front of the window, an easel in front of her, painting a vase of roses in soft watercolors. “Lucy's correct, dear,” she replied. “Owen has a great deal of pride, and seeing you with Berkeley once is not enough for him to admit how very wrong he's been.”

Alex shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“He's been telling you all this time how he wants to marry your sister. Just think how it will look for him to suddenly declare his love for you. Besides, he's in something of a snare, having to defy Father and all that.”

“So I shouldn't expect him to declare himself?” Alex asked.

Lucy took a sip of tea, made a funny face, and set it back down to administer even more sugar. “Of course he'll declare himself, but he obviously needs more inducement first.”

Alex let her head fall into her hands. “More inducement? What do you suggest? That I begin flirting with every gentleman in the
ton
?”

Cass looked up from her painting and tapped the end of the brush against her cheek. “Now, that idea is not half bad.”

“I agree,” Lucy said, sipping her tea happily now. “I think only good can come from him having more competition.”

“But this isn't how I wanted it to go at all.” Alex groaned.

“Of course not, dear. It never goes the way we
want
it to go,” Lucy continued. “But it always goes the way it was meant to.”

Alex raised her head and blinked at the duchess. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means just what I said, dear,” Lucy replied. “These things are complicated. They take time. Owen is a rakehell. Getting him to admit he's fallen for an innocent is not about to happen quickly. Keep doing exactly what you're doing. Lord Berkeley has agreed to continue to help you. He's a prize. In fact, if you weren't so set on Owen, I'd say you should turn your attentions to him.”

Cass frowned at Lucy. “I'll thank you to leave my future sister-in-law alone.”

Alex had to smile at their banter. “Lord Berkeley is quite nice, but…”

Lucy sighed. “I know. I know. You're madly in love with your rakehell.”

Alex's cheeks heated. “I can't help it.”

“Of course you can't, dear,” Cass called. “Owen is quite a catch, too, and I've always known the right lady would make him into a doting husband.”

Alex sighed. “Doting? Owen? I cannot imagine it.”

“Once he commits to you, he'll dote on you. Take my word for it.” Cass flourished her brush on the canvas once again.

Alex pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Very well. So you both think that I should continue to do what I'm doing—flirt with Lord Berkeley and the other gentlemen who've shown me attention, and completely ignore Owen?”

“Don't
completely
ignore him, dear,” Lucy replied. “Throw him a glance or two and a friendly wave from time to time. It's far too obvious if you
completely
ignore him.”

Alex groaned again. “This is driving me mad.”

A wide grin spread across Lucy's gamine face. “It's driving him mad also, dear. That's the entire point.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Miffletons' ballroom was ablaze with the light of a thousand candles. Alex paced back and forth near the refreshment table. She wore a stunning fire-colored gown that she'd just recently purchased from Madame Bergeron, her mother's favorite modiste on Bond Street. The gown was so gorgeous that Lavinia had pouted when she saw Alex in the foyer before they made their way outside to the coach. Mother had had to assure Lavinia that she, too, looked ravishing in her own ice-blue gown. Thomas had gone back to school, and so Alex was alone with her parents and sister. Again.

She searched the ballroom, looking for any signs of her friends. Finally, she saw Lord Berkeley standing head and shoulders above most of the other gentlemen. Thank goodness. She'd been a bit worried that he wouldn't appear tonight, and where would it leave her?

Lord Berkeley spotted her, nodded, and made his way through the crush to her side. “My lady,” he said with a bow.

“My lord,” she replied, curtsying and sharing his smile.

“I have it on the best authority—namely from Lucy—that Owen Monroe has just entered the ballroom. Given that, may I have this dance?”

Alex nodded and placed her arm on his. “What would I do without you, my lord?”

They danced, and Berkeley, the dream that he was, ensured that he steered them to the far side of the room, where Owen was holding court with his sister and Lord Swifdon. Alex's gaze darted around the ballroom. Lavinia was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

Keeping Lucy's advice in mind, Alex glanced at Owen, who appeared to be glaring holes in Berkeley's jacket. A muscle in Owen's jaw ticked and he took a stiff drink from the brandy glass he clutched in his left hand.

She smiled at him politely but briefly, barely indicating she was aware of his presence before turning her attention back to Lord Berkeley and delivering her most dazzling smile. She laughed at something he hadn't said and batted her eyelashes at the viscount.

Lord Berkeley glanced over to Owen's group. “It's working,” he said. “Keep doing what you're doing. I've little doubt Monroe wants to call me out right now.”

Her hand on his shoulder shook a bit. “Do you truly think it's working?”

Lord Berkeley's smile was friendly and warm. “I
know
it's working. I think he's close to crushing that unfortunate brandy glass.”

“Oh, I do hope that doesn't happen,” Alex said, biting her lip.

“I'll give him about two more minutes before he cuts in again.”

Butterflies scattered in Alex's belly. She waited and waited, her anticipation growing with each turn on the floor. But Owen did not come. She danced with Berkeley one more time before finally admitting defeat and asking him to deposit her back at the refreshment table. “I cannot ask you to do more, my lord.”

“He's a stubborn one, I'll give him that,” Berkeley said as he escorted Alex across the room. “Perhaps it's best if you give him time to come and greet you.”

Alex nodded but she didn't feel much hope. If Owen had wanted to cut in on their dance, he would have. He'd done it before, after all.

She found Jane Upton at the refreshment table, filling a plate with tea cakes.

“Tea cakes are the only things that make balls tenable in any way,” Jane said, balancing her plate on the palm of her hand.

Alex was just about to reply with a laugh when a dark shadow appeared at her side.

“Do you truly think it wise for your reputation to dance with the same man twice in a row?
Again?
”

Alex jumped and whirled to the side. Owen stood there with his hands on his hips and his jaw tightly clenched. He was clearly angry. And he'd been drinking.

She straightened her shoulders and continued to pluck a tea cake from the serving platter. “You're the one who taught me these things,” she whispered so they wouldn't be overheard. “Two dances are enough to keep him wanting more, but never a third. Isn't that what you said?”

Jane and her tea cakes suddenly disappeared.

“I was a fool,” Owen barked.

Alex forced herself to count to three and remain calm. She'd had a great deal of practice remaining calm in the face of anger, after all. She lived in the same home as Lavinia. “You said it, I didn't.”