The Untamed Earl(25)

* * *

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.