The Untamed Earl (26 page)

Her lips thinned to a narrow line. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I assume you're happy with the news. I apologize if I've offended you with my presence. It's as you once told me—our parents were much more interested in the match than either of us.” He began to chuckle, but stopped when he saw the sour look on her face. Whatever she thought of the news, she was
not
laughing. “I'm sorry if I've hurt you in any way, Lady Lavinia,” he decided to add to be safe. No use poking a cobra.

“You haven't, my lord. I assure you.” Her smile was predatory.

He inclined his head to her. “Well, then, good day, my lady—and all the best to you. I'm certain to see you again sometime.”
Seeing as how I hope to soon be your brother-in-law.
But he could put up even with Lavinia upon occasion if it meant having Alex forever.

He began to stride away, but Lavinia's words stopped him. “I heard you say you've already found the right lady.”

Ah, so she
had
been eavesdropping and obviously felt no shame over it. He grinned. He couldn't help but grin whenever he thought about Alex. “That's correct.”

“Is it Alexandra?” Lavinia asked, her eyes narrowing to slits.

Owen tugged at his sleeve. He supposed it was safe enough to admit it to her. “Yes, my lady. It is indeed.”

“I see,” she replied, turning away.

For a split second, Owen thought he saw a flash of pure anger in her eyes. He should soften his words. “I do hope you find a man worthy of you, Lady Lavinia.”
Or at least willing to put up with you.

She seemed to be looking through him, her eyes unfocused. She was barely paying attention. “I just may have, my lord.”

Well, that was a surprising bit of news. But certainly a welcome bit. Owen wanted to shout. Excellent! If Lavinia were engaged, he and Alex would be free to wed.

“I wish you luck, then,” he replied.

“I don't need luck,” she spit, her voice cold enough to freeze water. “I always get what I want.”

Owen left the house and jogged down the stairs moments later, shaking his head. The good luck he'd offered her was for whichever unfortunate chap Lady Lavinia had set her sights on. Owen didn't envy the poor bastard. He whistled as he flipped his hat atop his head and headed for his coach. He was nearly ready to speak with Alex.

But first he had to have a talk with one more person.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

This time it was Owen who barged into his father's bedchamber. The old man had been taking a nap … in the middle of the afternoon. Imagine that.

“Wake up, Father. I have to speak with you. It's urgent.”

His father sat up and sputtered and coughed while Owen strolled over to the window and yanked open the curtains. Sunlight poured through the ornately decorated room with its red velvet upholstery and dark carved wooden furnishing. His father held his arm in front of his eyes to block the light.

“Owen, for God's sake. What do you think you're about?”

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you? That's awfully bothersome, isn't it?” Owen braced his feet apart and folded his arms over his chest.

“I was merely resting my eyes for a bit. I haven't been feeling well. My gout is acting up and—oh bother, I cannot believe Shakespierre allowed you in.”

“Ah, but I failed to tell Shakespierre I was looking for you,” Owen replied, referring to his father's butler. “I believe he thinks I'm visiting with Mother in one of the drawing rooms.”

“By God, I'll have his head when I—”

“Don't worry, Father. I'll be brief. I merely came here to inform you that I wouldn't marry Lady Lavinia Hobbs if she were the last lady in London. In fact, I intend to marry Lady Alexandra Hobbs, if she'll have me. I am in love with her and am planning to do everything in my power to make myself worthy of her, including a bid for the House of Commons in order to promote legislation that addresses the issues I care about, some charity work, and giving away all my material possessions if I must.”

His father's eyes were wide gray orbs. “Wh-wh-what are you saying? What about your allowance? Your inheritance?”

“Oh yes, about that. I don't give a toss about it and have already donated this month's allowance to a poorhouse in Seven Dials. Lady Alexandra was gracious enough to point out their dire need.”

His father's sleeping cap was askew. He looked old and tired. For a moment Owen was worried for him, almost pitied him. Here was a man who'd used his status, money, and authority to order people about and bully them into doing his bidding his entire life. His servants were frightened of him, and his wife never dared to confront him. Owen silently vowed he'd never act that way. He and Alex—if she'd have him—would have a loving, equal partnership filled with happiness and respect.

“You'd give up your inheritance so easily?” his father sputtered, trying to clutch at lapels that were not there.

“I needn't remind you that the estate is entailed to me upon your death, but yes, I give it up for the remainder of your life without a second thought. Alex means that much to me.”

His father's jowls shook. “I do believe you've lost your mind.”

“I have, Father. I lost my mind the moment she entered my life. And I've never felt better about a decision. Good day.” He nodded, bowed, turned around, and walked directly out the door.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Bath was always a good idea. Or so Lucy said more than a dozen times on their way there. Alex had agreed to accompany Jane, Garrett, Lucy, and Cass on a trip to the hill town where Garrett owned a house. Lucy, Cass, and Alex rode in one coach. Jane and Garrett rode in a second. The servants and trunks came along in a third.

At first it had sounded like a splendid idea. The chance to get out of London and her mother's prying eyes held a special appeal. The chance to distance herself from Owen held even more. She might be traveling with his sister, but
he
wouldn't be there. But with every turn of the carriage wheel, Alex couldn't help but wonder if she'd return to find him engaged to Lavinia. And the prospect twisted her heart.

She shook her head. No. She refused to think such thoughts. She'd foolishly believed she fell in love with the man as a starry-eyed fifteen-year-old, and once she'd gotten to know the real person behind his debonair façade, she saw him for what he truly was.

“Did you hear that Lady Sarah Highgate is betrothed to the Marquess of Branford?” Lucy asked, interrupting Alex's thoughts.

“That was to be expected,” Cass chimed in. “She was the belle of the Season and he the most sought-after bachelor. Well, Owen's sought after, of course, but not quite a marquess,” she said, giving Alex a sympathetic smile.

“I wish Lady Sarah well,” Alex said simply. “And I'd much prefer not to speak about Owen, if it's quite all right with you, Lady Swifdon.”

Lucy and Cass exchanged uneasy glances.

Lucy was the first to speak again. “Yes, well, Garrett and Jane are having a ball tomorrow night.” She clapped her hands. “And you'll get to meet Aunt Mary.”

“Garrett's mother,” Cass interjected.

“Oh, a ball? I didn't realize there would be a ball.” Alex struggled to keep a smile pinned to her face, but a ball sounded positively awful at the moment. She'd wanted a holiday, not more of the endless social rounds. “I look forward to meeting Mr. Upton's mother.” At least that much was true.

Late that afternoon, their carriage pulled up to the lovely stone town house on the crescent, and the friends alighted. Aunt Mary came hurrying down the stairs, distributing kisses to all and exclaiming first over Alex's beauty, then how tired she must be, and finally how famished.

Their small party partook of bread, cheese, and fruit while the trunks were unloaded from the coaches. They shared news from London with Aunt Mary, including Lady Sarah Highgate's engagement.

How is your brother, Lord Owen?” Aunt Mary finally asked after no one had mentioned him. Perhaps it was a bit conspicuous.

“Oh, he's … well,” Cass replied, reaching over and patting Alex's hand.

Aunt Mary glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Alex looked away, out the window. She refused to think about Owen, let alone speak of him again. She'd told him she loved him, and he'd punched her friend. The man was an ass.

“I hate to be a bother, Mrs. Upton,” she said to Garrett's mother, “but I'm exceedingly tired and—”

Aunt Mary held up a hand. “Say no more, my dear.”

In short order, Alex was escorted to a bedchamber and instructed by the solicitous Aunt Mary to take a nap. “We'll have a quiet evening at home tonight to rest from your trip,” Aunt Mary said as she left Alex at her bedchamber door. “The ball will be tomorrow evening.”

Alex forced a smile to her lips.

*   *   *

There she was in a gown of royal blue, looking heartbreakingly beautiful, her face a mask of ice. He'd taught her too well. She was laughing, dancing, and flirting with her string of admirers, touching one man lightly on the shoulder with her fan, hiding her gorgeous smile behind her gloved hand, her tinkling laughter filling the space, clutching at his heart. Her eyes were sparkling and full of intrigue and promise. Owen's gut clenched. He had made her into this, this dazzling young lady, this sought-after prize every man wanted to win. He'd made her into this, and he'd also made her hate him.

They'd planned this, he and Upton. Upton would dance with her and bring her to the far half of the room on the other side of a trellis that had been set up just for the occasion. Owen would be waiting there, and Upton would hand her off to him. She couldn't possibly object in the midst of a dance in the middle of a crowded ballroom, could she? He would soon find out.

As Owen waited, he realized he was holding his breath. His foot was tapping, too. He was—by God, he was nervous. He'd never been nervous a day in his life. Upton came around the trellis just then and twirled Alex in his direction. When Upton stopped and spun her out of his arms, Owen caught her. The look on her face when she glanced up and realized he was there was a mixture of both surprise and anger. But dare he hope—was it only wishful thinking?—that for a split second between those two other emotions was a flash of … happiness? Relief?

Alex didn't take up dancing with him, however. Instead, she stopped, gasped, and stepped back. “What are you doing here?” She glared at Upton for his betrayal.

Upton cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “I'll just leave you two to talk.” He rushed off before Alex had a chance to object.

Alex lifted her skirts and turned away from Owen. “I'm going back to the—”

“Wait,” he called, his nerves making his voice harsher than he'd meant it to be.

She stopped, her face in profile. “Why?”

“Alex, I—”

She turned and advanced on him. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a confession to make. I asked Upton to get you here.”

“Pardon?”

“I wanted to see you, away from London.”

“Garrett planned this?”

“With help from his wife and her friends.”

Anger blurred Alex's vision. “Those awful sneaks!”

“Please don't blame them. Upton owed me a favor. I called it in.”

She stalked away from him, under the trellis, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Very well. You've got me here. What do you want to say to me?”

“I want to ask you to give me another chance. I want to apologize for my behavior that night—with Mrs. Clare. I want to—”

“Give you another chance for what? We didn't have a first chance. There's nothing to try again.”

“I don't think you believe that any more than I do.”

Alex flourished a hand in the air. “I was fifteen when I fancied myself in love with you. I'd been shut up in my bedchamber most of my life, listening to strains of waltzes and dreaming about my life when I turned eighteen. I was a fool. Things don't work out the way they do in fairy tales, and the first handsome gentleman to arrive under your windowsill is not meant to be your future husband.”

“But he could be.”

Alex stopped. Swallowed. Clenched her teeth. “I gave you my heart, Owen. But I no longer believe I can trust you. Please do as I say when I ask you to leave me be.”

 

CHAPTER FORTY

Alex spent the next two hours deftly trying to ignore Owen's presence. What had her new friends been thinking, inviting him here? Cass might be his sister, but they all knew how Alex felt about him at the moment. They liked to be up to mischief, but she'd had no idea they would trick her this way. She needed to be alone. She considered the library but thought better of it. Despite being the lady of the house, Jane Upton would no doubt be perched on the sofa in there. Instead, Alex made her way outside onto the terrace and into the gardens. She hadn't made it two steps down the garden path before the door opened behind her.

“Wait,” a man's voice called.

For an excruciating moment, she thought it was Owen. But it wasn't. She'd apparently made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him tonight, perhaps ever. No. The man holding open the door to follow her was Lord Berkeley. The viscount released the door and strolled toward her.

Alex stopped and smiled at him. “My lord?”

“I wanted to say … good-bye.” Lord Berkeley bowed to her. “I came to see my cousin who lives here in Bath and thought I'd stop by Upton's party tonight as well.”

“I'm glad you did.”

“I'm glad, too. Glad for the opportunity to say good-bye to you. I'm leaving for my property in the North tonight.”

Alex tugged at the string to her reticule. “I do hope to see you again sometime soon.”