The Untamed Earl(20)

“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.

“Blast and damnation,” he muttered to the potted palm. “Difficult? She’s the bloody Spanish Inquisition.”

Alexandra’s smile was back. Cursing? Check.

Alexandra had seen enough. If she’d had any indication that Lavinia might actually welcome Owen’s suit, Alexandra had intended to give him up, or at least to refrain from interfering with their courtship. But not only had the last several moments proved to her that her sister was entirely uninterested in the match, it was also obvious to Alexandra that Lavinia and Owen did not suit. She and Owen, however … Alexandra didn’t mind cursing, boldness, or dancing, and she welcomed drinks. Especially champagne. Now that she thought on it, where was a glass of champagne?

Oh yes, she would feel no guilt whatsoever in pursuing Lord Owen despite her parents’ intentions. Besides, hadn’t she spent years attempting to be more daring and adventurous? The plan that was quickly forming in her head was both daring and adventurous and would give her the opportunity to spend time with Lord Owen Monroe. A great deal of time, perhaps.

Lord Owen turned to walk away, and the words flew from Alexandra’s throat before she had a chance to examine them.

“Wait,” she called. “I can help you.”





CHAPTER EIGHT

Owen blinked and turned back around at the sound of the female voice. It seemed to be coming from the large green palm. The plant was speaking to him? He hadn’t had that much to drink tonight. He squinted and ducked, peering through the fronds. “Who’s there?”