Worthing?No…no…no… Surely this was a nightmare. She’d hoped to have a few more hours of solace before he arrived. Alex glared at Ambrose as he appeared in the drawing room door and flashed her a wicked, knowing grin.
“Alex, this is Mr. Ambrose Worthing.”
“A pleasure,” Ambrose said as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers.
She frowned at him, which thankfully went unnoticed by her father.
“Why don’t we all sit by the fire for a minute before going up to bed? I’d like for you both to get properly acquainted,” her father suggested happily as he led her and Ambrose back into the drawing room.
Alex didn’t immediately follow. She stood there, rooted to the spot, her mind racing frantically. What if he told her father she’d kicked him in the groin? What if her father guessed he had tried to kiss her? What if—
“Are you coming, Lady Alexandra?” Ambrose asked, leaning one shoulder against the doorway, forcing her to come face-to-face with him if she wished to get inside the room. She approached hesitantly and then stopped inches from him.
“Ahem,” she coughed politely, and with a cheeky grin, he stepped back, letting her brush past him so she could take a seat by the fire.
The fire crackled and popped, shooting sparks to the edges of the fireplace. Alex warmed her hands over the flames before sitting down.
“Thank you again for the invitation, my lord. It has been years since I’ve been here.” Ambrose took a seat, his muscled frame lounging back into a winged chair. A smug grin curved his lips when she dared to glance at him. Anger sparked beneath her skin, and a flush of embarrassment came when she remembered that kiss. How dare he come in here, smiling like that…in her house! She struggled to compose herself.
I can handle this. I can deal with him.
So he thought he could make himself comfortable here? She bit her lip to keep from laughing. He wouldn’t be for long. She’d see to that.
“It has been an age, hasn’t it? Since before you left for Eton. Alex was still a babe in the nursery when you two came down for fishing.” Her father’s face had softened as he spoke, and a wistfulness made his eyes gleam.
Alex hadn’t thought her father was lonely—both he and Alex weren’t much for social gatherings—but perhaps he did wish to see his friends more. She visited Perdita often, but her father didn’t leave the house much except when she convinced him. He preferred his books in his study and going hunting or fishing, but those activities were best enjoyed when he was with companions.
The old resentment at her mother—who spent half the year in London and when home was always busy—rose up in Alex as the thought of her father’s loneliness took off. She knew her parents weren’t a love match, but a political one. The alignment of two strong English families had been more important than marrying for passion. Alex had grown up all too aware of that fact. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for each other. They did love each other in their own way. But there was little passion in that love.
“How is your father, Ambrose? Last he was here was before Christmas of the previous year.” Her father set his spectacles aside on the small reading table near him and leaned closer to their guest.
“He is quite well. He and my mother are staying with friends in Edinburgh for the Little Season.”
“Are they? Good for them. But you must tell him to come down here and hunt with me in the fall. Shooting has been excellent these last few years. You should come too, if you’re not otherwise engaged.”
Alex chose that moment to cut in. “Papa, I’m sure Mr. Worthing has much better things to do than come down here to shoot.”
Her father harrumphed. “Nonsense, dear, men like to shoot things. Don’t they, Worthing?”
“Indeed.” Ambrose winked at Alex, making her shake with rage. “A man loves to hunt all sorts of things.” His eyes seemed to tell her what his lips did not.Like pheasant, foxes, and…women.
“Excellent! We shall invite you down then this fall.” Her father suddenly sat up. “Goodness, I haven’t even properly introduced you to my darling girl, have I?”
Alex sighed. This was why her mother didn’t bring her father to London. He had no head for society’s expectations of introductions and formalities.
“I did indeed have the pleasure of meeting her and dancing with her at the assembly rooms tonight.” Ambrose smiled.
“Ah, good, good.” Her father was still blushing. “Alex, dear, would you pour us some glasses of brandy?” He nodded at the decanter, which sat on a table at the back of the room.
“Of course, Papa.” She shot an unamused look at Ambrose and then got up to pour the gentlemen glasses.
“How is the Countess of Rockford?” Ambrose was behaving like a perfect gentleman. There was not one hint of impropriety, not one glint of lust in his eyes as he conversed with her father like an old friend.
“Irene is well. She too is off visiting people. She’s in London with her sister for the next month. Alex and I are quite beside ourselves with boredom, aren’t we, dear?” Her father was teasing of course.
At this, Alex couldn’t resist laughing. They were both glad to be left alone in Lothbrook.
They’d been excited at the prospect of a quiet home for a month. Her mother loved to entertain and attend every social engagement that came her way. But Alex and her father found it exhausting.
