“That’s why you wanted to meet me again?” Alex asked. “To tell me to be late next time?”
“Among other things.”
“Such as? More questions about Lavinia?”
He strode over and leaned back against the table near the wall. “No, actually. My questions are about you today.”
“Me?”
“Yes, is that so shocking?”
“What do you want to know about me?”
“What you see in the bloke you’re after, for one thing.”
“Wh-why does that matter?”
“I thought perhaps I might be of more assistance to you if you provided me with more details.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Go on, tell me.”
Alex took a deep breath and garnered some time by fumbling around in her reticule for her fan. She couldn’t very well describe Owen to Owen. That would be preposterous. But what could she say?
“Well, he’s tall, handsome, titled.”
“Of course,” Owen drawled, though he looked a bit disgruntled. “Go on.”
“He’s blond.”
Owen nodded at that. “What color are his eyes?” he teased, batting his own eyelashes at her.
“Blue,” she ventured.
“He sounds like quite a catch,” Owen replied.
“He is. Though I daresay he doesn’t realize it. He hasn’t had much luck on the marriage mart to date.”
“The perfect suitor for you, then, perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” she replied, wondering if Owen had any clue. Of course he wouldn’t guess.
“And he’s not put off by your sister?”
“He doesn’t seem to be. Not yet.” She tugged the fan from the reticule finally, flipped it open, and rapidly fanned her face.
“Does he write poetry?”
“I seriously doubt it.”
“Does he sing love ballads?”
“Not to me.”
“Does he play the mandolin?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
Owen expelled his breath. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him, to help bring him to heel, I mean?”
“Oh, Owen, if I knew that, he’d be mine by now.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“There you are.”
Alex’s fork nearly toppled from her fingers. She’d been in the breakfast room, eating eggs and fruit, when her sister found her. Alex glanced around the room. No. No one else was there. Lavinia must be speaking to her.
“You’re looking for me?” Alex asked incredulously.
“Yes, you, silly,” Lavinia said with a long-suffering look on her face.
Alex laid down her fork and watched warily as her sister approached. Lavinia never ate in the breakfast room. She always had her breakfast sent up, and Mother didn’t dare gainsay her. For Lavinia to be up and dressed at this hour of the morning and to make an appearance in the breakfast room … something was definitely not right.
Lavinia sailed around the edge of the gleaming wooden table and took a seat directly across from Alex. Then she folded her hands together in front of her and leaned across them.
“What … what is it?” Alex asked hesitantly, watching her sister as if she were a wildcat of some sort that might very well attack her.
“I wanted to see how your evening went last night.”
“My evening?” Alex’s eyes widened. She jerked her hand and knocked the lid off the delicate china sugar bowl.
“Yes.” Lavinia settled her shoulders.
“What do you mean?” Alex replaced the lid.
Lavinia leaned back in her chair and shrugged. “I merely wondered how your dance with Lord Owen went.”
Alex took a deep breath. Ah, this was what she’d been waiting for. Lavinia couldn’t stand anyone else to receive attention meant for her.
“It was a bit of a bore, to be honest,” she said, hoping her sister couldn’t read the lie in her eyes.
“A bore?” Lavinia sat up straight and blinked.
“Yes.” Alex nodded rapidly.
“Why so?”
Alex affected a long dramatic sigh. “Lord Owen could only talk about you all night.”
“He did?” An unpleasant grin spread across her sister’s face, but a kind of sparkle lit her eyes, too.
“Yes,” Alex continued. “And I hope to cause no offense, but it was hardly interesting for me to answer questions about you all evening.”
Lavinia leaned forward. “What did he want to know?”
Alex sighed again for additional dramatic effect. There was never too much dramatic effect when Lavinia was involved. “He wanted to know what you were like. Your favorite pastimes, your favorite foods, even how you take your tea.”
A catlike smile unfurled across her sister’s face. “He did?”