Green eyes glared at him. “You deny a lonely widow friendship, and yet you let that murdering female live under your roof, while your own cousin tries to make a proper debut in society?”
“That’s right—it’smyroof, Fiona. If I can stand having you living under it, I can stand anything. And Miss Gallant tries my patience far less than you do.”
“What about her awful reputation?”
“What about mine?”
Fiona jabbed a finger in his direction. “Bah! Don’t think you can fool me about what’s going on. She’s after your fortune, just like she was after Lord Welkins’s. I know that she’s sharing your bed. And you can’t make me keep quiet about it, either.”
Lucien’s first thought was that Fiona had more intelligence than he’d given her credit for. His second was how much he’d like to throttle her. At the moment, though, considering how many people knew they were alone together in the ballroom, that might raise some sticky questions. “If I can’t make you keep quiet here, I can certainly send you back to Blything Hall, where no one cares what you prattle about.”
“Don’t threaten me!”
With effort he kept from growling. “Don’t try to play this game with me. I’m better at it than you are.”
“You—”
“What do you want?” he broke in.
“I want that woman gone from this house.”
“She’s leaving anyway.”
“I don’t want her coming back—ever. Together, Lady Welkins and I know enough about Alexandra Gallant to see that she never finds employment again. Anywhere. I want her gone.”
The desire to throttle her was becoming stronger. “And after you’ve rid yourself of Miss Gallant? I presume you have something additional in mind.”
“Yes, I do. I want you to marry Rose.”
For a moment he could only stare at her. “What?” he finally choked.
“You marry Rose, and I’ll leave Miss Gallant alone. I know you care for that whore—I heard you telling her you would take care of your bastard. So Rose is going to be Lady Kilcairn, and my grandchildren are going to inherit your titles, your land, and your wealth.”
“By God, you’re ambitious. Just how long have you been planning this?” he asked, almost admiring her audacity.
“Only since I saw what you inherited, and what dear Oscar didn’t. Rose will have her party tonight, Lucien, and everyone will see how well the two of you suit. And then you will announce your engagement.”
Fiona turned on her heel and left. Lucien stood there in the middle of the ballroom for several minutes. What his aunt proposed wasn’t blackmail, precisely, because he wouldn’t pay any consequences if she made her suppositions and allegations public. Alexandra would, though. He cursed. He’d been careless, and he’d left Alexandra vulnerable. He’d even allowed his damned aunt to have the last word, and so far only Miss Gallant had managed to do that to him.
Lucien narrowed his eyes. Fiona hadn’t bested him yet. And she’d made a huge mistake: she’d given him time to make a plan.
Alexandra folded her new shawl and placed it with the other things in her trunk. The ivory-colored lace was too lovely and too delicate for travel. Most of her new things were too lavish for anywhere but London. As a teacher, she wouldn’t have much use for them at all, but she couldn’t bear to part with them. Not yet, anyway.
“Miss Gallant?” Lucien knocked at her door.
He sounded less angry than he had been in the ballroom, but something deadly serious remained in his voice. Whatever it was, today was difficult enough without the agony of spending time alone with him.
“Miss Gallant,” the earl repeated, knocking again. “Alexandra, I know you’re in there.”
Shakespeare emerged from beneath the bed and trotted over to wag his tail at the door. Of course the terrier liked Lucien; in the earl’s house he was allowed to do exactly as he pleased. Alexandra was, too, but unfortunately that freedom ended at the front door.
The latch rattled as something heavy hit the door, and the doorframe splintered. Lucien shouldered the door open the rest of the way and strode into the room. “You might have answered me,” he said calmly, brushing splinters from his coat.
“My silence was my answer,” she replied, and returned to packing.
Lucien squatted down and scooped Shakespeare into his arms. “We have a problem.”
She set aside her old blue traveling hat for the morning. “I didn’t think you’d begun roaring at everyone for no good reason.”
