“No doubt he dislikes being closed in all day. He’s better behaved than my relations; let him have the run of the house.”
Alexandra stepped closer. “Thank you for the generous offer, but I don’t believe Mrs. Delacroix likes him very much.”
“All the more reason to have him about.”
She smiled. “I should censure you for saying such a thing, but as this concerns Shakespeare’s happiness, I shall let it go.”
Lucien gazed at her. “You should smile more often, Alexandra.”
“You should give me cause to smile more often.”
“Are you saying your happiness depends on me?”
“I’m saying your cooperation makes my happiness easier to obtain.”
“Your cooperation would makemyhappiness easier to obtain, as well,” he returned, sweeping his gaze along her length.
Blushing, she turned for the door. “I don’t believe you will ever be happy then, my lord.”
“I was happy for a moment last night.”
She stopped. “A pity, then, that you’ve vowed never to be so with your wife. Whoever she may be.”
Back to throwing that in his face again, was she? “My marriage ideals offend you.”
“Yes, they do. If you happen to settle on a woman with even a modicum of intelligence, I suggest you not enlighten her as to your feelings—or the lack thereof.”
Somehow when she said it, it made him sound like a complete ass. “Yes, my goddess. But shouldn’t you be concentrating on making my cousin acceptable to a marriage-minded gentleman?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The look she gave him told Lucien she considered him a cheat for pulling rank, but any conversation with Miss Gallant seemed to turn his brain to mush. He’d take any advantage he could get—that was another of his rules. As Alexandra stalked out of the room, the little dog at her heels, he wondered how long it would be before that rule crumbled into dust, as well.
Since Miss Gallant would no doubt avoid him for the remainder of the day, Lucien went out for luncheon at Boodle’s. The Viscount of Belton had just taken a seat by the window, and with a slight smile Lucien went to join him.
“You’ve made yourself scarce these last few days,” Robert said, as he inspected a bottle of Madeira.
“Not that you’ve been around to notice.”
“Too true.” Robert glanced up at the footman hovering beside him. “This will do. Thank you.”
“Very good, my lord.” The man hurried off to greet another patron.
“My mother arrived early,” the viscount explained. “I’ve been practically housebound for four days, listening to all the gossip west Lincolnshire has to offer.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Not a jot.” Robert poured them each a glass of wine. “Much more interesting things going on here.”
“Name one,” Lucien said, raising the fine crystal goblet and studying it. Any distraction would be welcome.
“Well, it seems that a certain bachelor has apparently hired a notorious adulteress and murderess as a companion for his female relations.”
Lucien stopped breathing. “Really?” he said, sitting back.
Robert nodded. “That’s the rumor. Also that both the young ladies in his household are stunning, and that said companion must be extraordinary if said bachelor is willing to risk life and limb—notice the singular,limb—to have her in his possession.”
Lucien’s first instinct was to defend Miss Gallant, which surprised him. He knew what his peers were about—turning her into some sort of praying mantis who mated and then bit her partner’s head, or nether regions, off for sport—all so they could bring some amusement to the dull beginning of the Season. His second instinct was to laugh at the idea of any man possessing her.
