Lucien turned around and met her gaze. “I think watching you dance naked would be a very uplifting experience. I hope you’ll indulge me one day.”
Flushing, she moved away again. “Don’t expect me to participate in your amusements.”
“I’m trying to encourage you to participate in your own.”
There he went again, acting as though he knew everything. “I am not some deprived—”
“Excuse me, Miss Gallant?”
She jumped and whirled around. “Yes…sir?”
The large, heavyset gentleman shot a glare at Lucien. “For God’s sake, Kilcairn, introduce me.”
The earl scowled, but complied. “Daubner, Miss Gallant. Miss Gallant, William Jeffries, Lord Daubner.”
“Pleased, Miss Gallant,” the big man said, taking her hand. “Belton wagered me ten quid I wouldn’t dare waltz with you. Said you’d put him in his place, and you’d do the same to me in a Yorkshire minute.”
Alexandra felt her temperature rising. “I amnotgoing to be the object of anyone’s wagering.”
Lord Daubner smiled, revealing a row of slightly crooked teeth. “Youarespectacular. I’ll split the winnings with you.”
“I am not—” Alexandra stopped as she caught the expression on Lucien’s face before he wiped it away. He didn’t want her dancing again—which was odd, considering he’d started the mess. “I am not going to split your winnings,” she amended, smiling, “but I would be happy to waltz with you, my lord.”
“What would your wife say, Daubner?” the earl asked without a trace of his usual cynical humor. “I thought she didn’t approve of you socializing with other females.”
“Lady Daubner’s in Kent with a sick aunt. Besides, Kilcairn, like you said—no need to tell her everything, what?”
Alexandra watched Lucien choke down his reply and manage a half-civilized nod. To her eyes, he looked jealous—again—and a small thrill spun down her spine. As Lord Daubner escorted her onto the dance floor, though, she told herself it was more likely that Lord Kilcairn didn’t want his friends playing with his latest toy. But she was one toy with a mind of her own.
“Lucien, be a dear and fetch us some punch,” Aunt Fiona cajoled.
He kept his gaze and his attention on the departing governess. “No.”
Alexandra might have thought she was teaching him a lesson by leaving him stranded with the harpies while she went and enjoyed herself, but it was a lesson he had no particular desire to learn. He gestured at a footman.
“Fetch the ladies some punch,” he ordered.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Thank you, cousin Lucien.”
He nodded. “Excuse me.”
Alexandra was waltzing, which annoyed him in the extreme. She was supposed to be waltzing withhim. Lucien scowled, then spied Loretta Beckett, one of the remaining females on his rapidly shrinking list.
“Miss Beckett,” he said, “would you do me the honor?” He gestured at the other dancers.
Miss Beckett curtsied. “With pleasure, my lord.”
She waltzed adequately, thank Lucifer, and whoever had dressed her had enough sense to put her in dark colors to contrast with her pale skin and complement her brunette hair. Lucien maneuvered them toward Alexandra and Daubner. Realizing he’d been silent since they’d stepped onto the floor, he glanced down at his partner’s upturned face.What did one begin with? Ah, that was it.
“How are you enjoying the weather this Season?”
Miss Beckett smiled. “In truth, my lord, I’ve hardly had time to spend two minutes together out-of-doors. I’ve received reliable reports from those luckier than I that it’s pleasant.”
“Yes, I agree,” he said absently. Daubner danced the way he thought, meandering about the room in a completely random fashion. Lucien cursed, wishing the idiot would pick a path so he could move in and establish a position within earshot. “And what do you think of the fashions from Paris?”
“I think that as everyone else seems enamored of them, I had best like them, too.”
