Lavinia’s eyes took on a wild look, and her face contorted with rage. “You’ve never appreciated me, you awful little brat.”
“I can appreciate how hideous you are, believe me. But what I cannot for the life of me understand is why. Why would you lie to me when you knew you’d be found out eventually? You knew you weren’t going to marry Owen. How did you expect to keep up the charade?”
Lavinia stuck her nose in the air and took a deep breath. “He will marry me. Father will see to it.”
Alex backed away. Her sister couldn’t possibly be that delusional, could she? “No. He’s already told Father he won’t marry you. You’re insane.”
With a loud snarl, Lavinia gathered the skirts of the gown she wore in her hands and ripped at them. The unfinished pieces came apart, and she flung them across the room in Alex’s direction. “I am not! He has to marry me. Father is a duke. And I want it. I always get what I want!” She was screeching at the top of her lungs, and Alex backed away slowly. Lavinia had a feral look in her eyes, and she stamped her foot, spittle flying from her lips.
The door flew open, and their mother came hurrying in. “Lavinia, please!”
Both girls spun around to face the duchess.
“Tell her, Mother!” Lavinia screamed. “Tell her Lord Owen is going to marry me.”
Mother shook her head. “No, Lavinia. It’s not true. I’ve always worried that I indulged you too much, that I gave in to your every whim to your detriment, but I’ve been blind to how truly awful you’ve become.”
“Mother!” Lavinia clenched her fists in her hair and screamed loud enough that the King’s horses in the royal mews must have heard it. “I don’t care what you say. I will marry Lord Owen.” She flung herself to the floor and kicked and screamed, rolling around on the remnants of fabric that had been discarded during her fittings. “I will. I will. I will!”
Her mother calmly walked over to her eldest daughter and eyed her carefully. “Get up. You’re making a complete fool of yourself. I’ve indulged your temper for far too long because I felt such guilt over your nearly dying when you were a child, but I refuse to indulge you for one minute longer. I’ve done you no favors. No one can stand to be in the same room with you.”
Lavinia stopped screaming and rolled over to look up at her mother. Her hair was in disarray, and her face was blotchy and red. “I cannot believe you’re taking the side of that little mouse, Alexandra.”
Mother sighed. “It’s high time I took Alexandra’s side. She’s been forced to suffer your tantrums for years. Not only am I taking her side, but your father and I have already agreed that she’s free to marry Lord Owen regardless of your marital prospects. I daresay Alexandra shouldn’t have to suffer and wait for someone to actually choose to marry you. With your spoiled disposition, no doubt she’d be waiting till death.”
A wide smile covered Alex’s face.
Mother turned to Alex. “I’m sorry, Alexandra. Can you ever forgive me?”
Alex reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. “Thank you for doing the right thing.”
Her mother searched her face. “You do want to marry Lord Owen, don’t you?”
Alex beamed. “Very, very much.”
Lavinia jumped up and ran screeching from the room, a broken, mad doll.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Owen had been sitting in Cass’s empty ballroom for the better part of a quarter hour when he decided he’d had enough. He stood, adjusted his cravat, and took off toward the door to find his sister and inquire as to what the devil she’d been thinking, asking him to meet her here and then failing to appear.
He’d made it halfway across the wide expanse of parquet before the door to the ballroom opened and Alex came rushing through it. She was dressed in a gown of white, with her hair piled atop her head, and a daisy stuck fetchingly in the knot. She was clutching a leather-bound journal, and her cheeks had a bit of color to them. When she glanced up at Owen, she blushed gorgeously.
“Alex?” Owen breathed. “What are you doing here?”
Alex swallowed and bobbed a curtsy. “I must admit, I’ve learned that having friends is good for some things. Quite good for certain things. Like luring your intended bridegroom to his sister’s deserted ballroom.”
“Intended bridegroom? What the devil—?”
Her words came out in a rush. “I asked Cass to invite you here, because I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.” She glanced down at her white slippers.
Owen clenched his jaw. “Funny. The last time I spoke with you, I was under the distinct impression that you detested me.”