“I hired her,” he said, “because she was the most qualified woman to apply for the position. Don’t waste time fluttering about me with rumors, Robert. I don’t give a damn about them.”
“Humph. I thought you should at least be aware of them. And my own interpretation of your motivation varies a little from yours, but say whatever you like.”
“You’re in fine form this morning,” Lucien noted with some annoyance. Generally when he indicated he wanted a subject dropped, the person dropped it. Immediately.
“I’m well rested,” Robert reminded him, “and quite capable of keeping up with you for another three minutes. Perhaps four.”
“Favor me with your interpretation then, Robert.”
“As I see it, your cousin, though pleasant looking, is such a harpy that you needed someone even more notorious with whom thetoncould compare her. That being the case, you found Miss Gallant. And you being you, she’s stunning in addition to being notorious.”
Lucien shrugged. “I’m brilliant.”
“You’re devious.”
“It’s the same thing.”
Actually, Lucien preferred the viscount’s version to the truth. Ruthlessness and deviousness were much easier to accept than whatever it was that threatened to turn him into a blithering idiot around Alexandra. Miss Gallant would no doubt scoff at anything but Robert’s version herself. He hadn’t exactly acted like a dashing romantic last night.
“In retrospect,” Robert continued, “if I’d known who all the players were, I would not have missed the Howards’ dinner. No one will miss the next gathering you attend. I’d wager you a thousand quid on that, Lucien.”
“I’m disappointed,” Lucien drawled, watching as their luncheon approached on silver platters. “I thought the draw would be my cousin—not her damned governess.”
“You knew you would draw a crowd. And I really wish that in the future you would let your friends in on your little secrets.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Friends, or secrets?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
Chapter 8
Alexandra wondered whether Lord Kilcairn had heard the gossip. If he was aware of it, he’d made no effort to inform her. She didn’t know why she expected that he would, but it would have been a nice gesture.
She stood uneasily behind him in line as the butler announced the guests arriving at the Hargrove dinner. Even Rose knew by now not to show nervousness or embarrassment under any circumstances; Alexandra had to hold hard to her own percepts.
“Are you all right, Lex?” Rose whispered.
Obviously she needed to work on her composed expression, if even a self-absorbed seventeen-year-old girl had noticed her discomfiture. “I’m fine, Rose. Are you ready?”
“Mais oui,” her pupil chirped.
“They might think to open a window,” Mrs. Delacroix grumbled from the girl’s other side, waving her ivory fan wildly. “A person could suffocate in here.”
“One can only hope,” the earl murmured, stepping forward to hand over his invitation. “You might conserve air by not speaking as much, Aunt Fiona.”
“How dare you!”
Alexandra was thankful he seemed content to spar with his aunt; she didn’t quite feel up to it herself. With the exception of a few pointed questions, Lucien had left her alone since yesterday morning, but it didn’t help. She didn’t need to see him looking at her to know he was paying attention. Very close attention.
By playing the governess and hanging back out of Kilcairn’s line of sight, she managed to avoid a direct introduction to Lord and Lady Hargrove, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. As their party passed into the drawing room, though, that same breath caught in her throat.
“Ooh, it’s magnificent,” Rose exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “Look, they’ve opened the ballroom, and engaged an orchestra! I didn’t know there was to be dancing!”
While the girl jabbered excitedly about the balloons and streamers and the orchestra in the corner, Alexandra turned her attention to the crowd. Lucien had been right about the Howard dinner last week; the guests had been mostly from theton’s lower circles, nobility who looked upon the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey with unreserved trepidation and awe.
Tonight was different. If she had been the fainting sort, the sight of the Duke of Wellington chatting with Prince George over by the refreshment table would have sent her to the floor. She didn’t recognize many of the other faces, but she knew she would recognize their names.
