His lips curved in his slow, sensuous smile. “I don’t know.”
That answer unsettled her more than all of his charming comments and insinuating lures. It mirrored how she felt about him: she had no idea why he so intrigued her, but she felt almost powerless to resist even his most aggravating, obvious enticements. “Can I trust you?” she whispered.
“You have to decide the answer to that, Alexandra,” he said after a moment. “But we won’t discuss your idiot relation any further until we’ve returned to Balfour House and my idiot relations are safely locked away for the night.”
The music stopped. Lucien remained in front of her, one hand still warmly around her waist, as the other dancers drifted toward the refreshment tables.
“Let go,” she murmured, less embarrassed than she expected. “Go find another female for the next dance. I believe it’s a quadrille.”
“If I’m prancing about with some other female,” he said, releasing her, “I won’t be able to make certain you haven’t fled into the night.”
Thank goodness he was being arrogant and bossy again. Her legs had been beginning to feel rather wobbly, no doubt a reaction to his unexpected empathy. “You’ll just have to trust me,” she said, and returned to Mrs. Delacroix’s side.
Chapter 12
Being the subject of further gossip might prevent Alexandra from ever finding another decent position, but it certainly didn’t discourage the men present at the Bentley ball—or the less stodgy ones, anyway—from asking her to dance.
She had decided to sit quietly in a corner with Mrs. Delacroix and think; she had a great deal to contemplate. Immediately, though, she realized that quiet reflection would be an impossible task. Fiona had apparently acquired gossip about every guest in attendance, and she insisted on sharing it. In addition, some gentleman or other approached to claim Alexandra’s hand for every remaining dance that evening.
Alexandra wasn’t naive enough to pretend that their interest baffled her, but since they considered her to be Kilcairn’s property—and she frowned as she realized that—at least their innuendos remained fairly restrained. And their continuous attentions served both to keep Virgil Retting at a distance, and to keep Fiona’s wagging tongue from deafening her.
“I’m exhausted!” Rose said as she slumped against the coach’s soft cushions at the end of the evening. “I’m so glad we stayed.”
Fiona patted her daughter’s knee. “You were so well liked, child! Did you see, Lucien, how many young men—and ladies—wanted to converse with our Rose?”
The earl had settled back into one corner, his eyes closed in the half dark. “Miss Gallant has succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.”
“That is because Rose is a superb pupil,” his aunt argued.
Alexandra flexed her aching toes in their thin slippers. “She is more than superb.”
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Mrs. Delacroix sat forward, her green eyes gleaming.
“I couldn’t begin to imagine,” Lucien said dryly.
“Rose’s birthday is scarcely ten days away. You should throw her a grand party, Lucien. Invite only the best of London. I will help arrange for the decorations and entertainment. It will be so festive!”
Finally the earl opened one eye. “What horror,” he said, and resumed his supposed nap.
Rose sniffled.
“My lord,” Alexandra said hurriedly, trying to stop the flood before it could begin, “the decision whether to host a party should never be made at two o’clock in the morning—and certainly not after such an exhausting evening.”
“Very well,” he muttered. “I’ll decline in the morning.”
Rose’s eyes began to fill with tears, but Alexandra motioned at her to be calm and indicated that she would take care of matters. They rode the rest of the way in silence, and she almost thought Kilcairn had fallen asleep—though the more likely explanation was that he simply didn’t want to talk to his relations any longer. Alexandra didn’t, either. She was too worried over whether he would renew his questions about Virgil Retting once they returned, and what she would tell him if he did.
She knew what shewantedto tell him—everything. Just to be able to speak to someone else about her private woes would be such a relief. After tonight, and the way he’d come to her rescue at least twice…No one had ever attempted to rescue her before. Alexandra smiled a little into the near darkness. How odd to think that her one and only champion had a reputation at least as shoddy as her own.
The coach rocked to a halt. Lucien stirred, opening his eyes with no sign at all that he’d been napping, and followed the three women into the house. Alexandra shed her wrap and her bonnet and started up the stairs behind the Delacroix ladies.
A warm, strong hand slid around her waist and pulled her backward a step, holding her firmly against a tall, strong chest and torso. “Tell them good night,” he whispered into her hair.
“Good night, Rose, Mrs. Delacroix,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Rose stopped and turned around, peering down into the shadowy foyer. “Aren’t you coming to bed, Lex?”
“I’ll be along in a moment. I need a new selection from the library.”
