“I thought you’d be happier for me, Alexandra,” Lavinia said with a bit of a pout on her lips. “This is wonderful news for you, too, you know? It means that now you’re free to become engaged as well.”
“Yes,” Alex whispered brokenly.
Her sister opened the door and flitted away while Alex vowed never to shed another tear for Owen Monroe.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Owen wanted to punch his fist through the wall of the coach. His mind had transformed into a haze of angry red mist. After seeing that farce of an engagement announcement in the Times this morning, he’d gone to the Duke of Huntley’s residence to both demand an explanation and ask for Alex’s hand in marriage. The duke seemed to be entirely ignorant of how the announcement had made it into the paper, but he refused to allow his eldest daughter to be embarrassed by a retracted announcement. Lavinia, it seemed, had had a change of heart and was willing to accept him now. The duke had told Owen in no uncertain terms that Alex would not be his. Owen could marry Lavinia or no one.
Owen knew exactly who had sent the announcement to the paper. Lavinia was just the sort of devil to do such a thing. He’d underestimated her and made a grievous mistake when he’d told her he loved Alex. None of that mattered, however. He need only talk to Alex. He had no idea what her reaction to the announcement in the paper was. She was probably angry too. But they’d figure something out. Damn it. They’d strike out for Gretna Green tonight, if that was what she wanted. Her father had refused to send the butler to fetch Alex. Owen had waited outside for hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He’d finally bribed one of the footmen to discover from her maid where she was planning to go tonight. He’d learned that she was attending the Bennetts’ affair, and that’s exactly where he was headed.
His coach had barely come to a rolling stop in front of the Bennetts’ town house when Owen leaped out and headed toward the house with ground-devouring strides. Apparently, he was making a habit of plowing through crowds without observing the social niceties in search of Alex.
After scouring the house for the better part of half an hour, he found her, sitting forlornly near a potted palm along the sidelines of the dancing. He made his way over to her quickly.
“Alex, there you are,” he said breathlessly. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
She looked up at him as if she’d seen a ghost. Pure horror registered on her face. Had she been crying? She held up a hand. “No, wait.”
Judging from her swollen eyes, perhaps she’d already heard. He took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like it, but I’ve been to see your father and—”
“Yes. I know.” She kept her jaw tightly clamped. She wouldn’t look at him. What was wrong?
Owen scrubbed a hand through his hair. “He told you?”
Alex stared off into the crowd, still refusing to look at him. “It’s quite the news at my house. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I want you to know, this doesn’t change anything, I still plan to—”
“No!” She snapped her head toward him and met his gaze. “I don’t want to hear it. It’s over. Let’s part ways with a bit of dignity.”
He searched her face, incredulous. “Alex, no. I—I told your father that—”
“Save your breath. I told Father I wouldn’t accept your suit if you were the last man on earth. It’s perfectly fine. It’s all to work out the way it’s meant to, isn’t it? You told me that once, Owen, do you remember?”
He glanced about to ensure they were not being overheard. “Yes, but what about Bath? What about—?”
She tugged viciously at the string to her reticule. “Oh, that. I only did that on a dare from Lucy Hunt.”
His face crumpled into a mask of disbelief. “What are you saying?”
Her voice was a harsh, low whisper. “I wanted to see what it would be like, my first time with a rake. Thank you for your experience, my lord. It was quite enlightening.”
He snapped his head to the side as if he’d been slapped. “You don’t mean that, Alex.”
“Yes, I do, and I mean this, too: Marry Lavinia, Owen. You deserve each other.” Alex stood and hurried away.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
If the Duke of Huntley’s butler was at all surprised to see three well-dressed young married ladies of varying aristocratic lineage knocking on the front door that afternoon, he betrayed his surprise by neither word nor deed. In fact, Alexandra had to wonder at the poor servant’s shock when the three ladies introduced themselves as the Duchess of Claringdon, the Countess of Swifdon, and Mrs. Garrett Upton. But the butler must have recovered himself soon after they announced they were here to see Lady Alexandra Hobbs and not Lady Lavinia, who was indisposed at any rate, as she was upstairs having fittings with her modiste, Madame Bergeron. Lady Alexandra, however, was quite free to receive company and was sitting in the drawing room, working on her embroidery, when the three esteemed ladies marched into the room. They came in looking like a set of well-heeled fairy godmothers in smart gowns and kid gloves, their bonnets having been removed at the door. Alex glanced up from her embroidery, looked twice, and watched in awe as they fanned out around her, took seats, and deftly asked the butler for tea.