Cass leaned forward and patted her hand. “We know you care for him, Alex, and we’re saying we want to help you. But first we must warn you that our methods can often be … unpredictable.” Cass stared at Lucy when she uttered that last word.
Lucy raised her chin in the air. “Unpredictable, perhaps, but effective.”
“Granted,” Jane replied, “but ever so troublesome at times.”
Troublesome? Alex didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t understand. What do you want to help me with?”
“Why, to bring Owen to heel, of course,” Cass replied. “I’d all but despaired of him finding a love match.”
Alex’s eyes nearly popped from her skull. “A love match?”
Cass laughed. “Yes, of course. The way he’s been speaking about you, why, he’s half in love with you already. I’m quite convinced.”
Alex’s face fell. “Only half?”
Cass patted her hand again. “Men can be a bit thick sometimes. But don’t worry. We’ll help.”
“Yes,” Lucy said, settling into her chair and clearly warming to her subject. “We have a plan.”
“A plan?” Alex echoed, her eyes widening again.
“Oh no, not a plan.” Jane groaned and put the back of her wrist to her forehead.
“Ignore her, Alex,” Lucy said with a sniff.
“What exactly is your plan?” Alex ventured.
The duchess’s smile lit her different-colored eyes. “Well, Cass and I have been talking, and we think Owen needs a bit of real competition.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next evening, Owen steeled his resolve and forced himself to attend the Heathcliffs’ ball. He’d spent far too much time trying to court Lavinia Hobbs in the way she preferred. He was done with niceties. Now he was going to court her on his terms. Whether she liked it or not.
Owen searched the crowd. Lavinia was near the refreshment table, her usual group of friends—or perhaps they were the ladies too frightened of her temper to cut her—by her side. Her nose was turned up in its usual fashion. Owen blew out a deep breath. He couldn’t make his legs walk over to her. He continued his search of the room. He looked twice. There, on the dance floor, was Alex. She looked bright and fresh and pretty as usual in a light green gown with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye and she was dancing with … Viscount Berkeley. She was laughing, smiling, and batting at the viscount’s shoulder with her fan. In short, she was doing all the things that Owen had taught her to do, and she was doing them as if she were born to the role of consummate flirt.
The two most unexpected feelings twisted in Owen’s gut. Jealousy. Envy. Both so foreign to him, he nearly didn’t recognize them at first. But the more he watched the viscount spin Alex around on the floor, the more he wanted to crush the man’s throat in his hands and take his place. Yes. That had to be jealousy.
Owen watched like a scorned suitor from the sidelines with increasing envy as the dance ended and Berkeley escorted Alex over to the refreshment table, where he plucked a glass of champagne from one of the silver trays and handed it to her with a gallant bow. Owen hated gallants. He squeezed his fist as if he were squeezing it around Berkeley’s neck. Berkeley was not only eligible and handsome but young and tall, too, and he had an impeccable reputation. No drinking too much or gambling too much or too much anything. In fact, if the viscount were known for anything, it was rarely coming to town and spending far too much time by himself in the North of England at his estate. That was whom Alex preferred? Lord Saintly?
He searched his memory for what Alex had said about the man whom she fancied. Tall, handsome, titled, blond with blue eyes, not much luck on the marriage mart to date. The description fit Berkeley perfectly. Damn his tall, handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed hide.
Owen’s gaze flashed back to Lavinia. She was also watching Alex as if her interest in Berkeley had piqued her curiosity as well. Owen closed his eyes briefly and forced himself to stride over to Lavinia.
“My lady.” He bowed.
Lavinia’s face turned to a mask of stone. She sighed. “My lord.”
Her friends giggled. Owen ignored them.
“Happy to see me, are you?” he quipped.
She merely pursed her lips.
Behind her back, Owen could still see Alex and Berkeley talking. “I’d ask you to dance, but I have a feeling you’d say no.”
“You’re correct, my lord,” Lavinia replied.
“Would you care for a rock?”
Lavinia gave him a look that clearly indicated she believed he might have lost his mind. “A rock?”