“I couldn’t keep my eyes open to read,” Fiona declared as she reached the top of the stairs. “I’m going to sleep until noon. Good night, Lucien.”
“Aunt Fiona. Rose.”
“Cousin Lucien.”
Alexandra waited until she heard two doors close. “Let go.”
“No.”
“Fine. We can stand in the foyer all night, then.”
The muscles across his hard, flat stomach tightened, as though he was suppressing a laugh—or a curse. His grip loosened and slid away. “Have you ever lost an argument?”
She put several steps between them and then turned around. “No.”
“Hm. Neither have I.”
Relieved to find him still in good humor, she couldn’t resist another dig. “By the way, you lost points during your argument with Lord Virgil.”
Lucien took a step closer. “And how did I manage that?”
“You used a cliché. To be precise, ‘a battle of wits with an unarmed man.’”
A slight frown furrowed his brow. “That is not a cliché. And I wanted to be certain he understood the insult, anyway. I hate wasting my finest material on the unworthy.”
She nodded. “Of course. Well, good evening.”
The earl took another step toward her. “Not so fast, Alexandra. Explain. And don’t pretend you’re baffled by the request.”
“The demand, you mean.”
“Whatever.”
Alexandra looked at him for a long time. Tonight her shoulders felt almost stooped from her load. If anyone else could manage the weight, even just for a few moments, it would be Lucien Balfour. “I need to tread carefully where my relations are concerned.”
He took her hand and guided her toward the dark library doorway. “Why?”
“If they—if my uncle, especially—were to publicly distance themselves from me, I would be left completely…unprotected.”
She couldn’t see a thing, but Lucien led her unerringly to the library’s overstuffed couch. He nudged her backward onto the cushions and lit the nearby lamp. Then he sank down close enough beside her that their thighs touched.
“And it is necessary for you to be protected because…?”
“Because their support, unwitting or not, is all that keeps the gossip and rumors at a civilized level.”
Lucien slowly reached up and pulled the clips from her hair. She trembled as the golden waves tumbled down around her shoulders, and again as he curled his fingers through the wavy mass.
“You’re leaving something out,” he murmured, leaning closer to rub his cheek along her hair.
“I…My goodness.”
“Continue.”
With a ragged breath, she complied. “Lady Welkins hates me.”
Long fingers continued twisting and whispering through her hair. “You did nothing wrong.”
Leaning back against his shoulder, Alexandra closed her eyes. “I pushed Lord Welkins down the stairs.”
