I can’t remember.
His gaze landed on a decanter of brandy sitting on Canterbell’ssideboard, resisting the urge to pour himself a small glass. The inability to recall the night with Oakhurst bothered Alexander a great deal. Yes, he drank far too much, but…he’d never not remembered his whereabouts or whether he’d kissed a woman, let alone an entire bloody ball. And while he likely needed that entire decanter of brandy to get through the next hour, Alexander had vowed earlier to keep a clear head. He didn’t trust Canterbell or his twit of a daughter.
I’ll drink myself senseless later.
Canterbell’s dislikable butler reappeared, waving forward a maid carrying a tray. A steaming pot of tea. Biscuits. Tiny finger sandwiches. Scones. Jam.
None of it appealed to Alexander.
An older woman clothed entirely in fuchsia, paused at the entrance to the drawing room, before following in the wake of the tea tray. The bright color of her gown had him blinking, as did the array of small bits of brilliants glittering among the folds of her skirts.
Good lord.
He came to his feet.
“Your Grace.” Beringed fingers were extended in his direction. “We’re so pleased you’ve called.”
“Lady Canterbell.” He took her hand. “A pleasure. And your gown is exquisite,” he said smoothly. “The hue in particular is one of my favorites.”
A blush crested over her cheeks. “I’ve been warned of your charm, Your Grace.”
“I’m only being truthful. Lord Canterbell is lucky indeed.”
A soft, girlish sound of pleasure left her lips. “You flatter me.”
“I only speak the truth.” He released her hand, giving her the half-smile that had ladies all over England swooning. Alexander was not ignorant of his effect on the opposite sex, after all, there was a reason for his reputation.
A disgusted sound reached his ears.
Oh, yes. Almost forgot.
Lady Sophia, Alexander’s unwanted bride, strolled into the room, fingers clenched in her skirts, dark eyes glowing with barely controlled hostility.
The little twit had no reason to be hostile and her manner greatly annoyed Alexander. Why should she be so antagonistic? She’d taken advantage of him. The girl before him was either a clever liar or so bloody blind she couldn’t tell him apart from her butler. Or merely an ambitious schemer.
Alexander shot her a bland, bored look.
Her shoulders stiffened. She seemed about to hurl herself at him.
Why wasn’t she more thankful Alexander was so bloody honorable? Or that Uncle Damon had political aspirations? Lady Sophia was going to be a duchess, albeit for a brief time. You’d think she could at least…be polite.
Ungrateful chit.
If Alexander had had his way, this contentious little shrew would be left to twist in the wind. He didn’t give a fig for her reputation. Even now, there was nothing about her he recognized. Nothing familiar. Not her scent. Nor the sound of her voice.
Absolutely nothing.
Outside of the shape of her mouth which he appreciated.
Alexander was something of an expert, after all, in female mouths.
Lower lip full and plush, like a small pillow. The upper, curved into a bow. Sinful. Decadent. Likely capable of a great many…misdeeds. Could those lips have been enough to lead Alexander to stupidly take her into Lady Perswick’s gardens?
I’d remember that mouth.
A finger flicked against one thigh in annoyance. Alexander didn’t want to appreciate anything about her. Her unwanted presence would be gone within a year.
There wasn’t any way to disprove Lord Canterbell or his daughter, not with so many witnesses at the ball claiming to have seen him. Alexander had finally come to the unwelcome conclusionthat…maybe hecouldhave been there. How or why, he’d no idea. It did explain why Lady Maxwell hadn’t been at the gambling hell or brothel, but he recalled conversing with her. The only explanation was that he and Oakhurst must have retrieved her from the Perswick ball.
