Chapter 4
Alexandra lay on her bed and pulled a knotted rag back and forth across the coverlet for Shakespeare.
Twenty-five pounds a month was a small fortune. At her first position, that had been her income for the entire year. And even if she could have afforded to fling the bribe back in her employer’s face, she didn’t think she would have done it.
Alexandra suspected that had a great deal to do with the way he kept throwing challenges at her. Making Lucien Balfour marriageable could very well qualify her for sainthood. She smiled. Alexandra, patron saint of impossible, egotistical, arrogant men. Of course, the shivers he sent down her spine might have had a little to do with it, as well. Lord Kilcairn was a curiosity, an enigma, and she hadn’t yet begun to figure him out.
Shakespeare flipped upright, ears perked toward the door. A moment later, someone knocked hesitantly.
“Miss Gallant?” a female voice called.
Alexandra stood to slide the bolt back and opened the door. “Miss Delacroix,” she said, surprised. “Come in.”
“Actually, could you come to my bedchamber for a moment?”
“It’s nearly time to dress for dinner.”
“Yes, I know.” The girl glanced over her shoulder. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about.”
Curious, Alexandra nodded and stepped into the hallway. “Of course.”
“You see,” Rose continued in a hushed voice, leading the way down the hall, “Mama said I should wear my yellow taffeta to dinner as it complements my eyes, but I really don’t think cousin Lucien likes taffeta very much.”
As they entered her bedchamber, Alexandra noted the maid standing by the huge wardrobe, the two full-length mirrors flanking the dressing table, and the second standing wardrobe on the far side of the bed. “You brought all this with you from Dorsetshire?”
“All of the clothes. Cousin Lucien provided the second wardrobe, and the white room for the rest of Mama’s and my things. All of my formal gowns are in there.”
Alexandra lifted both eyebrows, then pasted on a smile as the girl faced her again. “My goodness.”
Rose indicated the bright yellow gown laid across the end of the bed. “What do you think? Mama says yellow is my best color, but Miss Brookhollow always recommended blue over yellow because it’s more reserved.”
“Well, let’s see the blue one,” Alexandra suggested, hoping it was more suitable for London society than the rest of the garish apparel she’d seen on her pupil.
The maid disappeared into the voluminous wardrobe, and reappeared a moment later clutching an even more vivid version of the blue peacock gown.
“Ah.” Alexandra cleared her throat. “May I have a look at your things?”
“Oh, I knew it wouldn’t do,” Rose said mournfully, her familiar pout beginning and her blue eyes swimming with tears.
Alexandra looked at the maid. “Will you excuse us for a few moments?”
“Of course, ma’am.” With a curtsy she vanished, closing the bedchamber door behind her.
With their audience dismissed, Alexandra returned her attention to her charge. “Miss Delacroix, as you know, Lord Kilcairn hired me primarily for the purpose of polishing your deportment. He has requested this in order to enable you to secure a husband of sufficient means to support you and your mother.”
Rose nodded, though her tentative expression indicated she hadn’t deciphered exactly what they might be discussing.
“Are you crying because this is not what you want for yourself, or because it’s not going as smoothly as you’d like?”
Her charge blinked a few times, and then her expression cleared. “Cousin Lucien doesn’t like anything I’ve done, and I did so want to please him. And Mama.”
Alexandra felt a slight headache beginning. “Do you wish to marry a nobleman, then?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And will you work with me to do whatever is necessary to see that this happens?”
“Oh, yes, Miss Gallant!” The girl clasped Alexandra’s hands. “So you think there’s hope for me?”
