“Who are the lucky finalists?”
“I’m not about to tell you, Miss Gallant. I don’t want you making fun of the poor things.”
Whoever they were, Alexandra abruptly didn’t like them. She pasted a cynical smile on her face. “Well, might I suggest you hold a poetry contest for your finalists? You could marry the winner—or the loser, depending on your final determination as to the importance of literary acumen.”
“Hm,” he mused, though she couldn’t tell whether he was angry. “I’ll take your suggestion under consideration.”
Lucien wondered what Alexandra would have said if she’d known how strongly he was considering placing her on his list—at the top of his list. As he saw it, he had no choice in the matter, anyway. None of the other so-called contestants he’d encountered could match even her shadow.
Rose was surrounded by gentlemen vying to renew their positions on the evening’s official dance card. He supposed it was shoddy that he didn’t really give a damn who married her, so long as it got her and Fiona out of his life. Lucien glanced at Alexandra again, a goddess in yellow and sapphire—which, despite Madame Charbonne’s best efforts, didn’t begin to do justice to her turquoise eyes.
Lord Belton appeared, and Lucien grabbed him by the elbow before he could join Rose’s contingent. “Dance with Miss Gallant,” he ordered.
Robert shrugged free of his grip. “Good evening, Kilcairn.”
“Dance with—”
“I heard you,” the viscount interrupted. “Why should I dance with your cousin’s governess?”
“Better the governess than the student.”
A thin line appeared between Robert’s brows as he frowned. “I delight in dancing with Miss Delacroix.”
“I’m not amused, Robert. You’ve had your fun at my expense.”
“I’m not joking. Rose’s company is quite refreshing, compared with the eager misses my mother’s been throwing at me.”
He seemed serious, but Lucien wasn’t in the mood to debate over how refreshing his cousin’s company was. “I concede to your rampant insanity,” he said.
“It’s not—”
“I will owe you a favor if you dance with Miss Gallant.”
Robert paused in midresponse. “A favor.”
“Yes.”
“Hm. Very well. A favor. This should be amusing.”
Lucien trailed behind the viscount as he returned to the thinning crowd around Rose. Alexandra stood to one side, her expression easy, unless he looked into her eyes. He probably shouldn’t have made her accompany them, but the idea of an evening alone with the Delacroix ladies—and without her—horrified him.
“Lord Belton!” Rose exclaimed, curtsying.
“Miss Delacroix. You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Robert cleared his throat, glancing sideways at Lucien. “I was just asking your cousin if I might call on you tomorrow afternoon for a carriage ride and picnic in Hyde Park. He graciously agreed.”
Her blue eyes widening, Rose clapped her hands together. “Really, cousin Lucien?”
Lucien kept the scowl from his face as he nodded. “Of course.” He elbowed the viscount in the back.
“And now,” Robert continued, jumping, “I see they are about to commence the first quadrille of the evening. Might you—”
“Oh, my dance card is full,” Rose said mournfully, shooting a glare at her mother. “I wanted to save one for you, but—”
“No matter. We’ll have more time to chat tomorrow.” The viscount turned to Alexandra. “Would you do me the honor then, Miss Gallant?”
