She blinked at him. “Manage what?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. She couldn’t be that innocent. Could she? “Our meetings, of course.”
Lady Alexandra coughed. She pressed her palm against her throat. “Our meetings?” she finally managed.
“Yes. You have a great deal to tell me, I’ve no doubt, and I have a great deal to teach you.”
Her pretty brown eyes looked as if they might bug from her head. “Teach me?”
He slid his hands down his impeccably tailored coat. “That’s right.”
Her breathing increased again. She was nervous after all. And her décolletage was still distracting. Strawberries were suddenly making his mouth water.
“What do you have to teach me?” she asked.
That was too leading a question. He discarded half a dozen inappropriate replies. No. He’d keep this entirely respectable. He might be a rogue, but he wasn’t about to be indecent with an innocent. He arched a brow. “How to dance properly, for one thing.”
Alexandra sputtered. “How to dance properly? I wasn’t aware that I dance improperly. Besides, when have you ever seen me dance?”
“I haven’t. I’ve no doubt the dancing itself is adequate at present, but if we’re going to turn you into the belle of the Season, you must learn to dance with me and make me feel as if I’m the only man in the room.”
Her eyes widened. “I never said I desired to be the belle of the Season. Lady Sarah Highgate—”
“Ah, ah, ah. Where’s that pluck of yours I saw earlier? Don’t set your sights too low. Aim to become the belle of the Season. Besides, if you’re seen with me, you’ll be the belle of the Season, trust me.”
“You’re arrogant,” she said, but her lips were definitely curved in the hint of a smile.
He shrugged. “You need me to be.”
She stared back at him. “I was going to say I liked it about you.”
He eyed her carefully. “You’re nothing like your sister.”
“Good thing for you.”
He snorted a laugh at that. “Does that mean you’ll allow me to teach you how to dance properly? Make me feel as if I’m the only man in the room?”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
He met her gaze. “There are many subtleties to it. You must look into my eyes. You must laugh at my jests, but not all of them. You must … tempt me.”
* * *
Alexandra went hot and cold. Owen Monroe had obviously never seen her dancing. If he had, he could probably tell she spent her time on the dance floor merely trying not to step upon her partner’s feet. If she were dancing with Owen, looking into his eyes would be far too much to ask of her. And tempt him? What did that mean? It sounded scandalous. She liked the sound of it.
“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.”