“Will you come outside with me?” Owen asked.
Alex took a deep but shaky breath. She had spent the last hour talking to and dancing with the extremely courteous and kind Lord Berkeley. If ever two men were different, they were Lord Christian Berkeley and Lord Owen Monroe. Oh so different. Where Owen was brash and arrogant, Lord Berkeley was quiet and unassuming. Where Owen was always ready for a drink and a hand of cards, Lord Berkeley had announced his distaste for gambling, and while he’d had a glass of champagne, she barely saw him take two sips of it. Alex had thanked him so profusely for his help that the viscount had finally chuckled and said, “Think nothing of it. I’m always happy to help Lucy Hunt execute her impractical plots.” It was a convenient thing that the man appeared to have a good sense of humor, at least. Although Alex already knew Lucy well enough to know that a certain gameness was a necessity if one wished to remain in her inner circle for any significant length of time.
Alex had tried to explain herself to Lord Berkeley. “I hope you don’t think ill of me, attempting to gain Lord Owen’s attention in this manner, it’s just that—”
Lord Berkeley had held up a hand and shook his head. “No need to explain. We all do foolish things when we fancy someone. Remind me to tell you the story about how I once asked Claringdon to write love letters to Lucy for me.”
Alex’s mouth had formed a wide O. “You? Wrote love letters to Lucy Hunt?”
“No,” Lord Berkeley replied, shaking his head and chuckling. “I asked her future husband to do it for me. Of course, I didn’t know at the time that the two had an affinity for one another.” He laughed again. “It was all rather outrageous upon reflection. But then again, Lucy is known for her outrageousness. It’s what makes her so endearing.”
Alex had studied the viscount carefully. He was tall and blond and broad-shouldered with crystal blue eyes and a ready smile. He was thoughtful, helpful, and a bit shy, which made him even more appealing. According to Lucy, he also had an unfortunate habit of stuttering when in the presence of a female whom he particularly fancied. He hadn’t stuttered once in Alex’s presence. Apparently, he was no more enamored of her than she was of him, Alex thought with a wry smile. Though she couldn’t help but think that Lord Christian Berkeley would make some very lucky lady a fine husband one day.
“Will you come?” Owen repeated, snapping Alex from her thoughts.
She wanted to go with him, but she was no longer the ready little wallflower she’d been mere days ago. Thanks to Owen, she understood the rules of the game now. And she intended to play by them. She gave Owen her most practiced coquettish smile and turned to the side to blink at him over one shoulder. “Ah, but someone quite wise once told me never to go alone somewhere with a man who might try to take advantage of me.”
Owen lifted a brow, giving her a skeptical look. “What if I promise to behave myself out there?”
She pressed the tip of her closed fan to her lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Both his eyebrows shot up this time, and Alex couldn’t help but feel a bit silly for her flirting. He’d taught her how, after all. He had to know what she was about.
“Come with me and find out,” he replied in a tone that made Alex’s knees turn to honey. He flashed that charming dimple when he said it. She swallowed, trying desperately to still the pounding of her heart.
“Very well,” she said simply, walking past him on her way to the French doors that led to the balcony. She tried to ignore his rugged manly scent as she walked past.
Owen followed close behind her.
As soon as the door to the balcony closed after them, she turned to him. “So, what is it you wanted to say to me? Alone.”
Owen shoved a hand in his pocket and took a few steps to be nearer to her. “Lord Berkeley?” He allowed the name to hang in the air as a question with no further elaboration.
Alex kept her eyes downcast so Owen couldn’t read her thoughts. This “being demure” business was actually quite difficult. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You said you enjoyed your dance with him immensely,” Owen replied. “Is he the man you fancy?”
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to say the lie about her affections outright. Cass and Lucy had instructed her on this point. “Let him think you fancy Berkeley. We’ve spoken to him. Christian will play the consummate suitor. He’s the perfect choice.” It had been nothing more than pure, perfect coincidence that Lord Berkeley just happened to possess the physical qualities she’d already mentioned to Owen.
Alex pressed her lips together. “You knew I had a fancy for someone.…”
There. That wasn’t quite a lie, but it also wasn’t telling the truth. Oh, God help her for being so awful.
A muscle in Owen’s jaw ticked. Was he angry? “I had no idea it was Viscount Berkeley.”
“You never asked. I never told you.” More prevaricating. “What does it matter who it is?”
Owen slapped his hand against his thigh and paced away from her. “It doesn’t. I simply—” He turned back sharply to face her. “Do you think it wise to spend time with him? While we’re still trying to make Lavinia jealous?”
Alex could have been knocked flat with a pin. Was Owen Monroe actually indicating that he didn’t want her to spend time with another man? “I didn’t know you cared so much about making Lavinia jealous,” she countered.
“I don’t, but I—” He paced away again, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I suppose your part of our plan worked if Berkeley is now paying you attention.”
This was going to be the most difficult part. “Yes,” Alex breathed. “Thank you for that.” She fought the tears that unexpectedly popped to her eyes. If only Lucy and Cass hadn’t been so adamant. “Make him think Berkeley is the only man for you,” Lucy had said. “Tell him how much you’ve fancied him,” Cass had added. Jane had merely looked up from her book and rolled her eyes a bit. “I want no part of this,” she’d declared.
“Don’t act so innocent, Janie,” Lucy had said, her hands on her hips. “You pretended to have a nonexistent chaperone once upon a time and were embroiled in a positive scandal of your own making.”
“Yes,” Jane had replied. “That’s precisely how I know how much trouble it all leads to.” She’d pushed up her spectacles and turned to Alex. “I wish you the best, Lady Alexandra, truly. But I cannot offer any advice. Besides, Lucy is the real plotter here. I hate to say it, but if you follow her advice, you have a very good chance of getting exactly what you want … eventually. Even I must admit that a bit of competition worked with me and Mrs. Langford, the war widow, when it came to Garrett.”
Alex hadn’t particularly liked how Jane had said “eventually,” but she’d been heartened by the rest of the statement. And Lucy had been adamant that Alex insist that she was madly in love with Lord Berkeley.
Owen turned to Alex with a sharp slant to his voice, drawing her away from her thoughts once again. “So, that’s it? You’ve got what you wanted.”
Alex’s heart tugged. She didn’t have what she wanted at all. But she had to continue to play this game. “I still intend to help you with Lavinia,” she assured him. “What else do you want to know about her?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have any idea. It seems entirely hopeless.”
“How did it go with her … tonight?”
“As badly as you’d expect. She doesn’t seem to be impressed with the things you told me to mention. I think it’s because they’re coming from me. I could tell her everything she’d ever wanted to hear, and she’d reject it coming from me.”
Alex stared at her slippers. She pushed one along the stone floor beneath her feet. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”
He groaned. “I need you, Alex. Tell me something, anything that will help to make her come around to the idea of marrying me. I doubt my trying to woo her is of any use anymore. She seems to have a heart of stone, but something has to melt it.”
Mine is already melted.
Alex gulped. He wasn’t jealous after all. At least not jealous enough to stop trying to court Lavinia. Oh God. What had Alex expected? Their parents were all counting on an engagement between Owen and Lavinia. In their world, one did what one’s parents told one to do. That was how it worked. It would take more than one dance with another man to make Owen jealous enough to defy his father.
Alex paced over to the balustrade and stared out into the darkened gardens. “I don’t know what else to say,” she murmured. “Perhaps you should simply tell Lavinia the truth. That Mother and Father want you to marry each other. See what she says.”
He strode over to her, and Alex looked up at him. The breeze ruffled his hair. “Thank you for your help, Alex.” He turned back toward the door.
Alex’s voice was soft and low. “You’re quite welcome.”
How had this conversation begun with Owen seeming to be jealous over Lord Berkeley and ended with him asking for additional ways to win Lavinia?
With one foot resting on the stone step that led back inside, Owen said, “Good luck with your viscount.”
Alex watched him go and expelled her pent-up breath.