Alexandra had not planned to attend the lawn bowls match. The very idea made her teeth itch with disinterest, conjuring visions of stilted laughter, uninspired flirtation, and the droning hum of social obligation masquerading as entertainment.
In fact, she had declared, quite emphatically, that she would rather read the back of a seed packet than endure an afternoon of polite society pretending to enjoy a sport that required more posture than skill.
But Miss Genny Moreland, who had a talent for persuading people into nonsense, had arrived at Alexandra's townhouse with a bonnet in one hand and a wicked grin in the other. Her voice carried a mischievous lilt that made resistance feel futile.
"You need air," Genny had said, dragging Alexandra to the carriage.
"I have windows for that," Alexandra had replied, though a small part of her secretly appreciated Genny’s determination to drag her from her solitude.
"And you need fun."
"I have you for that."
"Oh, but imagine the scandal we could witness. Possibly even cause."
Alexandra had narrowed her eyes. "Who’s attending?" She wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping for—certainly not him—but the quickening of her pulse betrayed a hint of curiosity she’d rather not examine.
"Everyone." Alexandra felt an uneasy flutter of curiosity mixed with dread—because in Genny’s world, "everyone" usually meant chaos, scandal, and precisely the sort of trouble she should avoid.
It had been said with the sort of glee usually reserved for announcements about royal weddings or the arrival of a new French modiste.
And so, against her better judgment and every ounce of her independence, Alexandra found herself on the manicured lawns of Lady Huxley's estate, surrounded by sun hats, delicate parasols, and far too many simpering young ladies pretending to understand the rules of lawn bowls.
It was a glorious day. The sky, that perfect robin's egg blue, stretched above them in an unbroken expanse, and the scent of lilacs wafted on a gentle breeze.
She might have enjoyed it. Truly. Had it not been for him—and the embarrassing memory of tumbling into his arms among crushed tulips that still warmed her cheeks whenever she thought about it.
"You again," she said, eyeing Lord Langley with suspicion, vividly recalling the smug amusement in his eyes when she'd toppled onto him among the tulips.
He turned from the group of gentlemen he had been entertaining and offered her a bow that was just a hair too exaggerated to be entirely respectable.
"Lady Alexandra. How unexpected."
"Oh, it wasn’t my idea,” she said, tossing a glance at Genny.
"Naturally."
He looked entirely too pleased with himself, wearing a dark blue jacket that echoed the glint of mischief in his eyes. Alexandra hated how well it suited him—how the color brought out the devilry in his gaze and made her stomach flutter despite herself.
"I thought you were above such tame entertainment," she said.
"And yet, here I am. Perhaps I hoped for another thrilling collision in the shrubbery."
Alexandra felt her cheeks flush slightly, betraying the annoyance she tried to conceal. "I assure you, there are no flowerbeds nearby to cushion your fall."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "That almost sounds like a challenge."
A pulse beat annoyingly fast at the base of Alexandra's throat, but she refused to step back. Instead, she arched a brow and gave him a look that could curdle milk.
Alexandra tilted her head, a frustrating mix of intrigue and irritation swirling through her. "Were you always so determined to be insufferable? Or is it a gift cultivated through years of practice?"
"A little of both."
Before she could reply, Genny appeared at her elbow, eyes sparkling.
“Lord Langley," she said sweetly. "I do hope you will be playing."
"Of course. It would be a crime to deprive society of such a spectacle."
