The Untamed Earl(62)

Which presented the problem: How in heaven’s name would she go about forgetting it now? Owen couldn’t have been more clear yesterday when she’d asked him about Lavinia. He still had every intention of marrying her. He had even accepted her parents’ dinner invitation tonight with the express purpose of continuing his suit. He would remain adamant until Lavinia herself agreed. How much more obvious did it have to be that he was planned for Lavinia? Even her mother had said so. Everyone, it seemed, wanted the match, except Lavinia and Alex. But no longer. Alex intended to remove herself from the equation. It was madness and heartache to continue to hope for something that could not be. She was through with the whole awful, painful thing. She tossed herself onto her bed and viciously tugged the covers over her head. Anger filled her. If Owen Monroe was such a lackwit that he couldn’t see what was so obvious … well, he deserved to spend the rest of his life with her sister.

Lavinia would be the only obstacle. Lavinia herself. Owen seemed to believe he could convince her. Or perhaps Mother and Father would change their minds and attempt to talk some sense into her. At any rate, the man was meant to be Alex’s brother-in-law, and they’d already kissed, more than once. There could be no more of such things or it would make for exceedingly awkward family holidays in future.

This was it. No more.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Owen groaned and rolled over. The sunlight pouring through the window wasn’t helping his pounding skull … not one bit. He rubbed his hand over his face slowly, then flexed his hands and feet. Must check for all limbs after a night of extremely heavy drinking. But wait. He hadn’t drunk heavily last night. No. His headache was from not drinking much. He pushed himself up to a half-sitting position and rang for his valet to bring him a bottle of brandy. Good man, his valet. The chap could be counted on to perform a wide variety of tasks.

While he waited, Owen slowly contemplated the events of the night before. There had been dinner, wine, arguing, and … He groaned again. Kissing. He’d gone and kissed Alex. Well, at least he hadn’t punched a tree. That was something, but what the hell had he been thinking? He thumped his palm against his forehead. That had been a bad idea. The valet returned with a tray that contained a brandy bottle and a glass.

Owen snatched up the bottle. “Thank you. That will be all.”

If his valet was surprised by his employer’s behavior, he did not so much as raise a brow in indication. Owen popped the stopper off the bottle, and raised it to his lips. Alex’s voice rang in his head. “Not to me. Never to me,” she’d said when he asked her if she thought him a scoundrel. “I see who you are. You can’t pretend with me.” Damn it. He eyed the bottle of brandy and called his man back. “Take this.” He shoved the bottle into the man’s arms.

The valet eyes rounded. “Yes, my lord.” He turned to leave.

“My father hasn’t been here, has he?”

“No, my lord,” the valet replied.

Thank God.

“Good. Should he arrive, please tell him I am unavailable.”

The valet bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”

A lot of good such a pronouncement would do. His father was always told he was unavailable, and the older man never cared. Owen laid his head back against the pillow. What had he been thinking about?

Oh yes, last night. Dinner, kissing, wine. Not entirely in that order. He’d kissed Alex. Why? Because he’d wanted to.

She’d kissed him back. Why? Because she’d wanted to? He had no earthly idea. It was no use examining her reasoning, then. He must examine his own.

His father was correct about him. He was a scoundrel, the worst sort. Only such a scoundrel would kiss the younger sister of the lady he was supposed to be courting.

The worst part wasn’t even that he’d done such a thing. No. The worst part was that he felt no guilt over it.

Perhaps it had been poorly done of him, but the truth was he’d wanted to kiss Alex last night, and more truth was he wanted to do it again.

Alex was everything he was not: fresh, young, innocent, idealistic, hopeful. Why in the world the girl had allowed him to kiss her, let alone kiss him back with such eagerness, he’d never know.

She was also everything her sister was not. Lavinia was shrewish, spiteful, hateful, and cold. When faced with the prospect of spending the rest of his life with that one, perhaps it wasn’t such a mystery why Alex was more tempting.

But that still didn’t grant him an excuse for kissing her. The only good thing about it was that he’d done so in private. There would not be a scandal. Alex’s reputation was not in danger.