The Untamed Earl(33)
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.