The Untamed Earl(59)
“I can’t say I was too keen on your father when I first met him. His being a future duke was certainly tempting, but I found him to be a bit overbearing. He still is, if I’m being honest.”
Alex rubbed her temples. Her mother was completely inappropriate. “Lavinia has quite definite opinions, though, Mother.”
“So does your father, and he’s settled on Lord Owen for her. I hope I can count on you to keep this to yourself, but we’ve already begun working out the contract.”
“Lavinia’s not going to like that.”
“I’m hoping she’ll warm to him, given enough time,” Mother said, patting Alex’s hand.
“What do you think, Mother? Do you think Lavinia and Lord Owen are well suited?”
“Oh, my dear, being well suited has little to do with marriage. Your father wants Lavinia to fancy Lord Owen, but I told your father not to count upon it.”
Alex balled the bedsheets in her fists. “So, you’re here to tell me I shouldn’t spend any time with him?”
Her mother patted her leg this time. “It’s what’s best for your sister. And what’s best for Lavinia will leave us all in peace. I know she’s not easy to get along with.”
“That’s putting it rather mildly.”
“I’ve spoiled her, Alexandra. I know that. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t blame myself for how she acts. But, regardless, the contract has been drawn up and Lord Owen is set to be Lavinia’s husband.”
“Even if I actually like him and enjoy his company and Lavinia obviously detests him?”
Another soft pat. “I’m sorry, Alexandra. I hope one day you’ll understand.” Her mother stood up and drifted toward the door.
Her mother left. As usual, Mother hadn’t even noticed that Alex hadn’t agreed to a thing. It was merely taken for granted that everyone in this household would do what was best for Lavinia. Alex ripped the pillow from behind her head and savagely threw it across the room.
* * *
Owen had been suffering Lady Lavinia’s barbs and rudeness for the better part of two hours. He’d attempted to open a discourse with her on the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, but far from being interested in the subject, Lavinia had made it abundantly clear that she had absolutely no desire to speak about the rights of women. “That’s the sort of drivel Alexandra enjoys,” she’d sneered. To make this odious dinner party worse, Owen had been looking forward to seeing Alex tonight, but apparently, she was abed with a headache. He didn’t blame Alex. If he were her, he wouldn’t want to suffer through this dinner party either. In fact, next time he might just claim a headache himself. Her words kept playing themselves over and over in his mind. “You have that opportunity, too; you simply choose to squander it,” she’d said. Those words haunted him.
Meanwhile, the duke and duchess were making markedly feeble attempts at getting Lavinia to show Owen any favor. It was failing miserably. The only thing that made it bearable was the wine he’d ingested. But he hadn’t had nearly enough. He was determined not to let his father down this time.
“So, Monroe,” the duke’s voice thundered across the table. “How do you feel about the toll road bill? I’m in favor of it myself.”
Owen thought about it for a moment. If it were his father asking, he’d say he didn’t give a toss about the toll road bill. But that wasn’t true. He pretended he didn’t give a toss about the toll road bill. The truth was he had thought about it. Had overheard some of the gentlemen at the club discussing it a time or two. He’d read all he could on the subject since encountering the farmer on the road the other day. And Owen was convinced that the toll road bill should be struck down. It called for an increase in the tax paid at the entrances to town. It was the reason why the farmer couldn’t get his poor sick daughter to the doctor.
Owen had been haunted by the memory of that little girl he met on the road outside London. He actually went there earlier, after he’d left the rookeries, to the storefronts near St. Paul’s, looking for a doctor who might have catered to the sick girl. He hadn’t found her, but he vowed to continue looking. All he could hope for for the time being was that the sovereign he’d given her father might have helped her plight.
Yes. Owen had studied the arguments for and against the toll road bill and the money that the Prince Regent hoped to make from the increase in the tax. And Owen indeed had an opinion on it. It made him sick to think that another little girl might one day be denied care in order to line Prinny’s pockets. He opened his mouth to say as much to the duke but just as quickly closed it. God. What was happening to him? He wasn’t an MP. He was a ne’er-do-well. A scoundrel. A profligate. Good only for drinking and carousing. Hadn’t his father told him that often enough? “Don’t fail me,” his father had said. “For once.” All his father thought he was good for was charming women, and he clearly was failing even at that.