Lucien watched her go back into the shop. He wanted to bury himself in her, and he hadn’t even managed a kiss. She knew what he wanted, too. She had to know it, because he’d told her to her face. Lucien scowled as he climbed into his phaeton and headed east toward his boxing club.
With half a dozen mistresses scattered about town, and that many more due to arrive in London over the next few weeks, satisfying himself wouldn’t be a problem. But he didn’t want them and their idle chatter and ready bodies. He wanted Alexandra Gallant.
And he wanted her to want him. While he clearly interested her, she’d shown herself to be more than capable of resisting any improper urges. She certainly felt comfortable enough with him to insult him at leisure. Of course, he liked that, too.
Blast it all, he needed to find a wife—as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Lucien eyed a trio of young ladies emerging from a hat shop. Petite, pretty, and giggly—he dismissed them without a second glance. Marrying didn’t preclude having Alexandra as his mistress once he’d convinced her of his charms, but lusting after the blasted governess was distracting him to an absurd degree.
Lucien sighed. He’d simply have to take his frustration out on his sparring partner. It was either that or lie in wait for Miss Gallant in some dark hallway; or in his garden; or in the library; or in his office; or…Lucien shook himself. Perhaps he’d best find a wife first. He was certainly acquiring enough pent-up desire to have sexual intercourse with just about anyone. If it weren’t so painful, it would be amusing.
Chapter 5
“Remember, Rose,” Alexandra chided, “there are five courses yet to go.”
“But I’m only eating a little, just as you said.” Rose plunked her fork down on her empty plate and began pouting again. “This is so stupid.”
Reminding herself that Kilcairn was paying her twenty-five pounds a month, and that she had dealt with stubborn seventeen-year-olds before, Alexandra smiled and shook her head. “It’s not stupid. And your rate of food consumption is fine. But that’s the thirty-second time you’ve sipped your wine. I’m afraid you’re completely sluiced over the ivories.”
Thankfully Rose relaxed her tensed shoulders and giggled. “It’s only pretend wine.”
Alexandra settled herself more comfortably in the dining chair she’d taken opposite her student. She was glad both the wine and the meal were imaginary; otherwise, both she and her charge would have to order Madame Charbonne to let out their new dresses before the dinner party.
She’d chosen this method of instruction to make Rose more conscious of what her hands were doing, rather than what her mouth was tasting. The problem, though, was more basic than that.
“The difficulty is that you seem to be using your wineglass as a delay. Every time I ask you a question, you take a sip of wine before you answer,” Alexandra pointed out.
“That’s so I have time to think up an appropriate response. Miss Brookhollow taught me that.”
She’d thought as much. “Yes, it’s a good trick. But you need more than one, my dear, or everyone will know what you’re doing—and by the end of the meal you will be so drunk that no response could possibly be appropriate.”
“More than one?” Rose asked, looking dismal. “I can barely remember that one.”
“Oh, it’s simple,” Alexandra answered casually, though she was concerned. This should have been the easy part. They had barely touched on dinner conversation, and not at all on after-dinner proceedings. She was keenly aware that the Howard dinner would be a test of both Rose’s skills and her own. And there was one man in particular to whom she intended to prove herself—and Rose, of course. “Pick five things and do them in sequence, over and over again.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Allow me to demonstrate.” She sat forward again and sipped her wine, just as Rose had done. “Oh, yes, Lord Watley. I know exactly what you mean.” Alexandra then lifted her napkin and wiped the corner of her mouth. “Fascinating indeed.” Placing her napkin back on her lap, she readjusted it. “How brave of you.” Next she took an imaginary bite of her imaginary dinner, chewed, and swallowed. “Oh, I am simply overcome.” Lastly, she scooted a few imaginary potato slices into a pile on her plate. “Thank you so much.”
Rose giggled again. “I’m completely lost, I’m afraid.”
“That’s all there is to it. Drink, napkin, napkin, bite, fiddle. Each time you need a moment to think, go through your list and use the next one. You can vary it, of course. If you need a long moment, take a bite. If only a quick, easy reply is necessary, do nothing, or adjust your napkin. But other than that, just go through your list.”
Her student gaped at her. “That’s brilliant, Lex!”
Alexandra grinned. “Thank you, but I can hardly take credit. I had good teachers.”
“You went to school to learn that?”
“I went to school to learn a great many things. That was one of them. Miss Grenville’s Academy deserves the credit.”
“Drink, napkin, napkin, bite, fiddle.” Nodding with each word, Rose repeated the sequence. “I can remember that, I think.”
“Very well. Let’s go over it, and your dinner conversation, once more.”
Rose sighed. “Who are you going to be this time?”
“I haven’t been Lady Pembroke yet. We’ll try her.”
“But I can’t marry her,” the girl complained, making a face.
