“Today I’m going to teach you how to be flirtatious,” Owen announced the next afternoon as soon as Alex had entered Cass’s ballroom. Alex was wearing a bright pink gown and looked fresh and pretty as a poppy.
“Flirtatious?” Alex echoed. “I don’t think my mother would appreciate that. But at least I remembered to bring my fan today.”
He cocked his head to the side. She was a funny little thing. She was full of contrasts but never ceased to make him laugh. He had dressed himself with special care again—black top boots, buckskin breeches, blue waistcoat, perfectly starched white cravat—and had ensured that he arrived on time for the second day in a row. Quite a habit he was making, this “being prompt” business. It seemed Alex was bringing out the best in him.
“Of course your mother wouldn’t appreciate it,” he replied. “But it will draw the eye of many a gentleman. If done correctly, that is.”
“I see,” Alex said. “How exactly is it done correctly? I thought that was what yesterday’s eyelash batting was accomplishing.”
Owen laughed aloud at that. “Partly, yes, but there is a bit more to it. Flirtation is both a skill and an art.”
“An art?” Alexandra echoed, stepping closer to him. “I quite like the sound of that.” Her hair was swept up in a fetching chignon, and her strawberry scent was ever present. Coupled with her pink gown, she reminded him of a ripe little fruit.
“It’s a trick, really.” Owen walked around her, assessing her from head to toe. “You are an innocent, so obviously you cannot be as flirtatious as, say, some of the ladies with whom I’ve been known to keep company.”
Alex snorted. “I’m excessively glad to hear that.”
His lips cracked into a grin. “Do I sense judgment in that answer, my lady?”
She shook her head, and one large, dark curl flew over her shoulder. “Oh. No. Not at all, my lord.” But the way she drew out the words and overemphasized them indicated her sarcasm. That, along with a bit of overly fluttery eyelash batting.
He eyed her up and down again. My, but she was appealing. He wished for the dozenth time that it was her and not her sister whom his father insisted he marry. Marriage to Alex might not be entirely … unpleasant. He shook his head to clear it of such unhelpful thoughts.
“Very well,” Alex replied. “Teach me how to be flirtatious, then. What do I need to know?”
Owen circled her, his hands folded behind his back. “It’s about wordplay, coy looks, the hint of a smile on your lips.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alex said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I usually say all the wrong things and I’m not certain I’d know a coy look if it bit me upon the ankle. I suppose I could try the ‘hint of a smile’ part. That doesn’t sound terribly difficult.”
God, she was honest. It was completely refreshing. But also completely a detriment if she meant to be sought after on the marriage mart.
“I think you’ll see what I mean if we try it,” Owen said. “Dance with me, and let’s put it into action.”
Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled her into his arms. “You look ravishing tonight, Lady Alexandra.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes. “‘Ravishing’ is a strong word, my lord.”
“It’s apt.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She slapped him on the shoulder with her fan.
“Will it get you to agree to have a drink with me?” he asked, leaning down closer to her lips.
“Certainly not.” She gave him a stern stare.
“Well done,” he breathed, not wanting to pull away. “Now, let’s see how you react when a suitor is a bit too forward.”
He pulled her up against his chest and moved his face even closer to hers. His hands were at her waist. Alex’s head tipped back and her eyes were hooded and for the moment, a split second, Owen actually had the desire to … kiss her. She gazed up at him with those dark orbs. “Yes,” she breathed.
He pushed her away to arm’s length again, hoping against hope that she hadn’t felt the stark evidence of his body’s reaction to her lush form pressed against his belly.
Her face clouded with confusion. “Did I—? Was that right? Was that flirtatious?”
He cleared his throat. “You were supposed to deliver a crushing setdown.”
Even more confusion crowded her face. “A setdown?”
“Yes, a crushing one.”
She glanced up at him from beneath her dark lashes. “I suppose you’ll just have to try again, then.”
Try again? He already needed to cool off from his last attempt. But he could hardly tell her that. He was supposed to be teaching the girl a thing or two. Some tutor he made.
He gritted his teeth and pulled her into his arms again. She melted against him, her arms twining about his neck.
As he held his breath, every inch of his body longed to kiss her, to wrap his arms around her and—“Well?”
“Well what?” she breathed against his neck.
“I’m waiting for my crushing setdown.”
“Oh, oh yes. That.” She promptly pulled her arms from around his neck and took a sharp step back. “Unhand me, sir.”
He arched a brow. “That may have been a bit too dramatic.”
“It seems to me that a crushing setdown is by definition dramatic. What other sort of crushing setdown do you suggest?”
He shook his head. “When a gentleman is too forward, you must be forceful and direct.”
“Such as?”
“If, for example, I were to say, ‘Lady Alexandra, meet me in the conservatory.’ What would you reply?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On who is doing the asking?”
He had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing aloud at that. “Let’s pretend it’s someone you don’t want to meet in the conservatory.”
“Oh, that’s simple, then. I would say no.”
“And if it were someone you did want to meet?” he asked, partially afraid of the answer.
“I might say what time.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I told you, there is a man I fancy. If he were to ask me, I cannot honestly say I wouldn’t agree.”
Owen pressed his lips together. Her honesty continued to amaze him. “You must at least pretend to be indignant. Pretend you may not be interested. Let’s try again. Pretend I’m the man you fancy.”
Alex glanced at her slippers and cleared her throat.
“Lady Alexandra,” he said, pulling her into his arms and whispering into her ear. “Will you meet me in the conservatory?”
“Perhaps,” she breathed.
He pulled away from her and gave her a condemning glare. “Perhaps?” he said in an exasperated tone.
“Too much?”
“Yes. It’s too much. At the very least, you should scold me for being too forward. And far too presumptuous.”
She nodded. “Very well. Let’s try once more.”
He pulled her into his arms again. “Meet me in the conservatory?”
She promptly slapped his shoulder with her fan. “How terribly indecent of you. I’ll do no such thing.” She glanced up at him. “How was that?”
“Better. But I must admit I’ll still worry about you.” He dropped his arms from her and stepped back. “I suppose that’s enough for today.” He scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Let’s talk about Lavinia. What else can you tell me about her likes and dislikes?”
Alex frowned and tapped a finger to her jaw. “Let’s see.”
“You mentioned gifts. Should I get her some flowers?” he offered.
“Flowers are … fine … or…” Alex glanced away.
He eyed her cautiously. “Or what?”
“Well, flowers are perfectly lovely, of course, but they’re a bit … predictable, don’t you think?”
He shoved one hand in his pocket. “Predictable? I thought all ladies liked flowers.”
“I suppose some of us do. But Lavinia much prefers something unique, something interesting. Something none of the other suitors are giving the ladies whom they fancy.”
He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “Like what?”
Alexandra bit her lip. “Oh, you know, something like perhaps a … a … rock.”
His eyes widened incredulously. “A rock?”
“Er, oh, you know, a nice smooth one that you found when you were out on a walk or something that, er, caught your eye.” She fluttered her hands in the air.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t say that a rock has caught my eye since I was a lad of seven. Are you quite certain that Lady Lavinia would actually appreciate such a thing?”
Alex didn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded emphatically. “Yes. Oh yes. She adores unique items.”
Owen scrunched up his nose in a scowl. “She does seem a bit unconventional, I suppose.”
Alex didn’t stop nodding. “Oh, she is. She is. I assure you.”
Owen shook his head again. Lady Lavinia sounded mad, if you asked him. But who would know better than her sister what she liked and disliked? “Very well. I’ll think of something … like a rock.”
“She will be so pleased.”
“Frankly, I’d rather give her nothing and simply talk to her.”
“I would like that ever so much—I mean, Lavinia would.”
Owen’s grin widened. “To date, she has not struck me as the talking sort. You actually strike me as that sort.” He shook his head once more and turned back to face Alex. “What else do you have to teach me? About being a gentleman, that is?”
Alex bit her lip. It was quite fetching. Owen had to look away.
“Have you heard the tales of King Arthur’s court?”
“Yes, but—”
“Lavinia is quite interested in that sort of a hero. One who will pay her courtly love.”
“Courtly love?” Owen looked as if he’d just swallowed a poisonous mushroom. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t courtly love predicated on the notion of a medieval knight and a married lady?”
“Yes,” Alex allowed. “That is true. But, of course, Lavinia isn’t married—not yet.”
“But she wants her husband to treat her as though he were a knight of the realm, and perhaps not consummate the relationship?”
Alex’s face heated briskly.
“Forgive me if I went too far,” Owen replied, responding to her blush. “But it sounds absolutely daft to me. I don’t think your sister is terribly realistic.”
I don’t think so either.
“She’s read a great deal of medieval literature,” Alex offered.
“Yes, well, I’m no Lancelot. And good thing, by the way—the chap made his king a cuckold.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Alex replied. “Nor can I explain Lavinia’s preferences, but—”
Owen grabbed his head between his hands. “Enough about Lavinia for now. I shudder to hear any more. The next thing, you’ll be telling me she wants me to join a troupe of troubadours and sing for my supper.”
“I don’t think she’d look askance upon it,” Alex responded before bursting out laughing at the thought. “Do you happen to own a mandolin?”
“You find that funny, do you?” Owen said, advancing on her.
“No.” Alex shook her head vigorously. “Not at all.” A smile cracked her lips apart. “Very well. Perhaps a little. A very little. It’s exceedingly funny to picture you playing a mandolin.”
Owen crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her down the length of his nose. “The other day you mentioned a list.”
“Wha-what?” Alex coughed. She pounded her fist to her chest to clear her throat. “Did I?”
“You said something about how you’d been forced to cross a smashing debut off your list.”
Alex pressed her hand to her chest. “I did?”
“Yes. Tell me more about that.”
Alex turned and walked over to the window that looked down upon the street, one of the most fashionable in Mayfair. “When I was fifteen, I wrote a list.”
“What sort of list?”
“A list of the things I hoped to accomplish in life.”
Owen slid both hands into his pockets and joined her near the window. “And?”
“And it was silly and I was young and—”
“A smashing debut was on your list?”
“Ye—yes,” Alex allowed. She propped a shoulder against the window frame.
“And that didn’t happen?”
Alex slowly shook her head. “No. I’m sorry to say it did not.”
“What happened at your debut, Alex?” The tenderness in his voice surprised him.
Alex heaved a sigh. “I was a dismal failure. No one asked me to dance. I tripped over my hem and spilled ratafia on my gown, and then I sat along the wall the entire evening. Mother told me she was disappointed in me.”
“What did Lavinia say?”
“Not much. Lavinia was interested only in the fact that it was the beginning of her fourth Season and she had yet to make a match.”
“Why do you think you launched so poorly?”
Alex turned back toward the large ballroom. “I’d hoped—foolishly—that a handsome dashing gentleman would ask me to dance and launch me into Society with great fanfare.”
“That’s why you want me to dance with you?” Owen breathed.
“Precisely,” Alex replied so softly that he could barely hear her.
“What else was on your list?”
She shook her head again and faced him with an overly bright smile. “What about you? What is on your list of accomplishments?”
He snorted. “Absolutely nothing.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” she replied. “There must be something you want to do. Something you’re good at.”
He clenched his teeth. The horses he trained flashed through his mind. Followed by the memory of the little girl coughing in the back of the farmer’s wagon. “Don’t confuse me with someone noble,” he said. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Whether you know it or not.”
His jaw tightened again, and he glanced away. When he looked back at her, he first ensured his typical smile was back in place. “You didn’t answer me. What else was on your list?”
Alex returned his sly smile. “That will cost you another dance and another lesson, my lord.”
He arched a brow. “I do believe you’re already learning, my lady.”