CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The next evening, Owen steeled his resolve and forced himself to attend the Heathcliffs’ ball. He’d spent far too much time trying to court Lavinia Hobbs in the way she preferred. He was done with niceties. Now he was going to court her on his terms. Whether she liked it or not.

Owen searched the crowd. Lavinia was near the refreshment table, her usual group of friends—or perhaps they were the ladies too frightened of her temper to cut her—by her side. Her nose was turned up in its usual fashion. Owen blew out a deep breath. He couldn’t make his legs walk over to her. He continued his search of the room. He looked twice. There, on the dance floor, was Alex. She looked bright and fresh and pretty as usual in a light green gown with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye and she was dancing with … Viscount Berkeley. She was laughing, smiling, and batting at the viscount’s shoulder with her fan. In short, she was doing all the things that Owen had taught her to do, and she was doing them as if she were born to the role of consummate flirt.

The two most unexpected feelings twisted in Owen’s gut. Jealousy. Envy. Both so foreign to him, he nearly didn’t recognize them at first. But the more he watched the viscount spin Alex around on the floor, the more he wanted to crush the man’s throat in his hands and take his place. Yes. That had to be jealousy.

Owen watched like a scorned suitor from the sidelines with increasing envy as the dance ended and Berkeley escorted Alex over to the refreshment table, where he plucked a glass of champagne from one of the silver trays and handed it to her with a gallant bow. Owen hated gallants. He squeezed his fist as if he were squeezing it around Berkeley’s neck. Berkeley was not only eligible and handsome but young and tall, too, and he had an impeccable reputation. No drinking too much or gambling too much or too much anything. In fact, if the viscount were known for anything, it was rarely coming to town and spending far too much time by himself in the North of England at his estate. That was whom Alex preferred? Lord Saintly?

He searched his memory for what Alex had said about the man whom she fancied. Tall, handsome, titled, blond with blue eyes, not much luck on the marriage mart to date. The description fit Berkeley perfectly. Damn his tall, handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed hide.

Owen’s gaze flashed back to Lavinia. She was also watching Alex as if her interest in Berkeley had piqued her curiosity as well. Owen closed his eyes briefly and forced himself to stride over to Lavinia.

“My lady.” He bowed.

Lavinia’s face turned to a mask of stone. She sighed. “My lord.”

Her friends giggled. Owen ignored them.

“Happy to see me, are you?” he quipped.

She merely pursed her lips.

Behind her back, Owen could still see Alex and Berkeley talking. “I’d ask you to dance, but I have a feeling you’d say no.”

“You’re correct, my lord,” Lavinia replied.

“Would you care for a rock?”

Lavinia gave him a look that clearly indicated she believed he might have lost his mind. “A rock?”

The other ladies giggled more.

“Never mind.” Owen slid his hand into his pocket. “About the dance. Is there anything I can do to change your—?” Alex laughed at something Berkeley said, loud enough for Owen to hear, making him lose his train of thought. Then Berkeley offered Alex his arm and they headed back to the dance floor. Two dances with the same man in a row? Had Owen taught her nothing?

“What was that, my lord?” Lavinia’s face registered her pique at Owen’s sudden lack of full-blown attention.

“Excuse me a moment, Lady Lavinia.” Owen didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he stalked off to the dance floor, dodged the couples flying around him, and tapped Berkeley on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Berkeley, being Berkeley and the consummate gentleman, hesitated only a moment before turning his attention to Alex. “Do you mind, Lady Alexandra?”

Alex shook her head. “No. It’s fine.”

Berkeley gave Owen a sideways glance as he bowed to Alex and took his leave. Owen glared back. Then he spun Alex into his arms and resumed the dance.

“That was unexpected,” Alex murmured once they’d found their pace. “Why did you do it?”

“The truth is I don’t know why,” Owen replied.

“My, but you truly know how to flatter a young lady, don’t you?”

His lips quirked in a grin. “Why, Lady Alexandra, is that sarcasm?”

“Indeed,” she replied, grinning back at him. “I saw you speaking to Lavinia.”

“Yes, it was nearly as diverting as speaking to a garden snake.”

Alex bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I take that back. A garden snake is no doubt better company.”

“Rejected you again, did she?”

“Frankly, I didn’t even give her the chance to reject me again. I came to dance with you instead. You’re infinitely better company.”

Alex arched one dark brow. “I would take that as a compliment, my lord, if you hadn’t just said Lavinia’s company was less interesting than that of a garden snake.”

“I enjoy dancing with you, Alex.”

She blushed prettily and gazed over his shoulder. “Thank you … I think.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“Then thank you.”

She was still looking over his shoulder. Damn it. Was she searching for Berkeley? “Did you enjoy your dance with the viscount?”

“Immensely.”

“Then you were sorry to see me cut in?” Owen hated the grumbly quality of his voice.

“I didn’t say that. I thought perhaps you might need to ask me something about Lavinia.”

“You’re right about one thing: I do want to speak with you, Alex. Alone.”