“I will keep someone posted outside the door from now on. If you require anything, it will be taken care of immediately.”
“I require my freedom.”
He actually grinned. “That is my ultimate goal, my dear one, but it will take a bit longer.” With a wave of his hand he gestured the footmen to leave and followed them to the doorway, where he paused. “I almost forgot,” he said, and produced a book from somewhere behind him. “To keep you entertained.”
She made no move to collect it from him, and after a moment he set it on the empty wine rack. With a deep bow he backed out of the room and closed the door. A few seconds later the bolt slid shut, locking her in again.
Only when Alexandra couldn’t hear any more movement from the other side of the door did she put Shakespeare back on the bed and retrieve the book. A small, pleased shiver ran down her spine. He’d given her the Byron.
“Cousin Lucien,” Rose said, intercepting him just as he left the kitchen corridor. “Did Lex leave already?”
He nodded, continuing toward the front door. “Before I came downstairs.”
“That’s awful,” her cousin quavered. “I hoped we could at least breakfast together, and then perhaps I might have convinced her to stay.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “And how would you have accomplished that, pray tell?”
“I would have told her how much Mama and I like her, and how much fun she made everything.”
Lucien paused. “Stop, cousin. You’re practically moving me to tears.”
An actual tear ran down Rose’s cheek. “Youshould stop. I’m sure Lex left because you were so mean to her.”
That was interesting. His cousin truly seemed to have no idea what her mother was up to. Though he didn’t particularly want to debate who happened to be at fault for Alexandra’s departure and despite her apparent ignorance of certain underhanded events, Rose was very much involved in the mess. Having her on his side might be beneficial.
Realizing he’d been staring at her and that her expression had become even more dubious, Lucien shook himself. He’d told Alexandra he would make things right. Rose was part of that—and very possibly an innocent party in the entire disaster. “Might I have a word with you?” he asked.
She paled. “Y-yes. I suppose so.”
He gestured her into the morning room. When she entered, looking like a rabbit about to be roasted for supper, he followed her in and closed the door. “Take a seat, if you please.”
“Am I in trouble?” she asked timidly, sitting in the overstuffed chair beneath the window. “I thought everything went very well last night, and I do want to thank you again for allowing me to have my party.”
Lucien dropped into the seat opposite her. “You’re welcome. And no, you’re not in trouble. I am.”
Immediately she reached out to touch his knee, then pulled back as though she’d been scalded. “Oh, my. What’s wrong?”
Conversing with Alexandra was much easier—both because he could speak his mind and because he didn’t have to ferret out the simplest turns of phrase before he uttered a sentence. “First, I think we need to set some rules.”
“Rules?” Her brow furrowed.
“Yes. In this room, and with the door closed, you and I will be absolutely honest with one another. Do you agree?”
Rose hesitated, then nodded. “What else?”
“Whatever we say in this room goes no further than the two of us—unless we discuss it first.”
“Yes. I agree.”
So far, so good. In fact, he hadn’t expected her to be able to make a decision at all. Perhaps Alexandra was right, and that given the right support, Rose could function as more than a pretty peacock. He was about to find out.
“Rose, did you come to London with the idea of marrying a specific titled noble?”
She flushed. “A specific—”
“Did you come to London with the idea of marrying me?”
“Did Mama tell you?”
