Reforming a Rake (11 page)

“You knew you would draw a crowd. And I really wish that in the future you would let your friends in on your little secrets.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Friends, or secrets?”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

A
lexandra wondered whether Lord Kilcairn had heard the gossip. If he was aware of it, he’d made no effort to inform her. She didn’t know why she expected that he would, but it would have been a nice gesture.

She stood uneasily behind him in line as the butler announced the guests arriving at the Hargrove dinner. Even Rose knew by now not to show nervousness or embarrassment under any circumstances; Alexandra had to hold hard to her own percepts.

“Are you all right, Lex?” Rose whispered.

Obviously she needed to work on her composed expression, if even a self-absorbed seventeen-year-old girl had noticed her discomfiture. “I’m fine, Rose. Are you ready?”

“
Mais oui
,” her pupil chirped.

“They might think to open a window,” Mrs. Delacroix grumbled from the girl’s other side, waving her ivory fan wildly. “A person could suffocate in here.”

“One can only hope,” the earl murmured, stepping
forward to hand over his invitation. “You might conserve air by not speaking as much, Aunt Fiona.”

“How dare you!”

Alexandra was thankful he seemed content to spar with his aunt; she didn’t quite feel up to it herself. With the exception of a few pointed questions, Lucien had left her alone since yesterday morning, but it didn’t help. She didn’t need to see him looking at her to know he was paying attention. Very close attention.

By playing the governess and hanging back out of Kilcairn’s line of sight, she managed to avoid a direct introduction to Lord and Lady Hargrove, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. As their party passed into the drawing room, though, that same breath caught in her throat.

“Ooh, it’s magnificent,” Rose exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “Look, they’ve opened the ballroom, and engaged an orchestra! I didn’t know there was to be dancing!”

While the girl jabbered excitedly about the balloons and streamers and the orchestra in the corner, Alexandra turned her attention to the crowd. Lucien had been right about the Howard dinner last week; the guests had been mostly from the
ton
’s lower circles, nobility who looked upon the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey with unreserved trepidation and awe.

Tonight was different. If she had been the fainting sort, the sight of the Duke of Wellington chatting with Prince George over by the refreshment table would have sent her to the floor. She didn’t recognize many of the other faces, but she knew she would recognize their names.

“Goodness,” she said under her breath, taking a step closer to Lord Kilcairn.

He looked as unperturbed as ever. “Impressive, aren’t
they?” he murmured. “Don’t worry—in a word-tangle with you, none of them would come out alive.”

Alexandra looked up at him, surprised. “Was that a word of comfort, Lord Kilcairn?”

His sensuous lips twitched. “You caught me at a weak moment.”

“I hadn’t realized such a thing existed.”

He
had
heard the rumors, or he wouldn’t have bothered with any kind words. Of course, he was practically the only noble in London with a reputation worse than her own.

“Yes, I surprised myself.”

“Be careful, my lord,” she continued. “I’ll think you’re getting soft.”

A devilish light touched his eyes. “Not where you’re concerned.”

Before she could reply to that, a tall, blond gentleman approached from one of the side rooms. He offered his hand to Kilcairn, but his gaze danced between her and Rose, as though he couldn’t decide upon which to concentrate his attentions.

“Robert,” the earl drawled, shaking his hand, “you dragged yourself away from your mother for the evening.”

“Actually, I brought her with me,” the younger man returned. “As I mentioned previously, she finds life much more exciting here than in Lincolnshire.”

Kilcairn’s eyes narrowed, and he gestured at the females surrounding him. “Robert, my aunt Fiona Delacroix, her daughter Rose, and their companion, Miss Gallant. Ladies, Robert, Lord Belton.”

“My lord,” Alexandra said, curtsying. Rose and Fiona followed suit.

So this was Kilcairn’s friend—the only she’d
heard him claim since her arrival. The viscount looked to be in his mid-twenties, five or six years younger than the earl, and a notch or two shorter. Though his brown eyes and smiling mouth were less compelling and fascinating than the lean planes of Kilcairn’s face, she concocted that he was quite handsome.

From the looks the two men garnered from the other ladies present tonight, she wasn’t the only one to view them with admiring eyes. For a moment she wondered how many of them would have refused if Lucien had offered them what he’d offered her. And then she had to wonder how many of them had already accepted and been discarded.

“Ladies,” the viscount returned amiably, nodding. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Lucien often speaks of his fondness for his cousin and aunt.”

“Indeed, Lord Kilcairn has never been one to conceal his true feelings,” Alexandra said softly. She’d probably hit on his one positive trait—he didn’t lie. Kilcairn’s gaze lingered on her, but she pretended not to notice.

“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Rose gushed, blushing prettily. “With so many important, daunting personages in attendance tonight, it is quite a relief to meet a friendly one.”

“Thank you, Miss Delacroix. Might I return the compliment?”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Lucien leaned closer to Alexandra. “Did you teach her that?”

“All except the ‘personages’ part,” she whispered back. “That was a nice addition. She sounded quite good, don’t you think?”

“I’ll reserve judgment until she’s spoken more than a paragraph,” the earl murmured back, his low voice in
her ear making her shiver. “And even then, my compliments go to you.”

“Will you be dancing this evening?” Lord Belton continued.

“
Mais oui
, all but the waltz.”

Ah, success
. Alexandra smiled as drawing room French proved its usefulness once again.

“Of course. Will you stand up for the first dance with me?”

Rose, her blush deepening, curtsied again. “I would be pleased, my lord.”

The viscount took her hand and placed it on his arm. “With your cousin’s permission, I should like to introduce you to some of my acquaintances.”

Rose looked up at her relation hopefully. “Cousin Lucien?”

Lord Kilcairn, his gaze on Belton, lifted an eyebrow.

“For God’s sake, Kilcairn, I’ll be good,” the younger man said, grinning.

“By all means, then. Take your time.”

Alexandra watched the two of them stroll into the crowd. So far, so good. When Rose put her mind to it, she was a fairly quick study.

“That’s one out of earshot,” Kilcairn said. “Now to find someone for Aunt Fiona to chat with.” He gazed about the room for a moment. “Ah, there we are. This way, ladies.”

“Oh, there’s Lady Halverston.” Fiona smiled, waving across the crowd. “I should go see her.”

“No,” Lucien said flatly. “You’ve gathered your quota of gossip for the week.”

The peculiar warm, fluttery feeling began in Alexandra’s stomach again. It seemed Lord Kilcairn’s chivalrous streak remained intact—undoubtedly by now Lady
Halverston would know all about her and Lord Welkins.

“Don’t you think we should be chaperoning my dear Rose, then?” Fiona asked, picking at the fingers of her gloves. “She’s all alone, poor thing.”

“I’m more concerned about someone acceptable chaperoning you.”

“Lucien, you are an awf—”

The earl stopped before an elderly, elegantly dressed couple seated at one side of the room. “Lord and Lady Merrick, may I present my aunt, Fiona Delacroix? Aunt Fiona, the Marquis and Marchioness of Merrick.”

Immediately in good spirits again at the sound of titles, Fiona curtsied. “I am so pleased to meet you,” she tittered.

“Ah, thank you, my dear. Do sit with us.”

Fiona gracefully sank down onto the chair beside them. Alexandra stepped forward to take the seat on Mrs. Delacroix’s other side, but stopped when Kilcairn’s warm, gloved hand slid down her bare arm.

“No, you don’t,” he murmured, leading her toward the salon. “I’m not that cruel.”

Alexandra shrugged out of his loose grip, hoping no one else had seen it. “I cannot go about with you,” she hissed. “I am an employee.”

“Then we’ll find Rose for you,” he said, as they made their way through the connected series of rooms.

“I can find her myself.”

“But then I’ll have nothing to do.”

“I don’t require your gallantry.”

“I’m not offering any. I’m trying to avoid boredom.”

She made an annoyed sound. “Who are Lord and Lady Merrick?”

“A pleasant old couple from Surrey. Deaf as stones,
both of them. And I imagine they’ll never be more grateful for the affliction than tonight.”

Alexandra repressed the sudden desire to laugh. “You knew the Merricks would be here tonight, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Ah. You can’t expect to find deaf people on whom you can foist your aunt at every soiree, though. She has acquaintances now.”

“Her acquaintances should be grateful for the reprieve.”

He gestured her into a salon. Still more of the glittering nobility stood about chatting in the small room, with Rose and the viscount and a half dozen other young people at the far end.

“She hasn’t been killed by an angry mob yet, anyway,” he said cheerfully.

“I’ll go tend to her now.” Alexandra turned away.

“Save a waltz for me.”

Her pulse fluttering, she faced him again. The time had obviously come for another lesson in propriety. “Rose doesn’t waltz.”

He looked at her, annoyed. “Did I say I wanted to waltz with cousin Rose?”

From the corners of the room, the murmurings had already begun. The small thrill of nervous anticipation his words started in her was no match for the dread over what everyone must be saying. “I have no business being seen with you.”

“I pay your salary,” he returned, undaunted, and gestured a footman for a glass of whiskey.

Alexandra wished that pummeling thickheaded, arrogant earls were within her realm of expertise. “Governesses don’t dance when the Prince Regent is in attendance, for heaven’s sake. And no mama would wish
her daughter to marry a man who would dance in public with a…with me.”

“Call me Lucien, then, and you may go hover about Rose.”

“I will not,” she declared.

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re embarrassing me. Even if you have nothing to lose by shocking people, I do.”

He didn’t look a bit repentant, though she supposed that would have been too much to hope for. “You’re the one prolonging your own agony,” he said, his gray eyes dancing.

She took a deep breath. He’d likely been planning something like this from the moment she’d refused to utter his given name the other night. “Very well,
Lucien
, might I go now?” she enunciated.

Lucien delayed a moment before answering. “Yes, you may, Alexandra,” he returned with a slight, superior smile.

He seemed entirely too self-satisfied, when all he’d done was bully her. “If that is the way to please you, my lord, perhaps you should have all of the young, single ladies present line up and say your name. That way you could immediately eliminate the ones whose accent displeases you.”

Kilcairn narrowed his eyes. “Go see to Rose.”

She escaped before he could come up with a more scathing response. When she reached Rose’s side and glanced back, he had vanished. He’d already warned her about playing with fire, and yet she continued to bait him, full knowing what the consequences might be. The only explanation that made sense was that for the first time in her life, she was beginning to enjoy being burned.

He hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t be able to dance with her. Despite her cynical commentary, she was right; his purpose at the soiree tonight was as matrimonial as his cousin’s. Waltzing with a ruined governess wouldn’t gain him any points with husband-seeking young ladies, or their mothers.

Even so, he was disappointed—he wanted something this evening that he couldn’t have, and as Alexandra had pointed out, he wasn’t used to that. In addition, her continual teasing over his conjugal efforts left him damned annoyed. It would serve her right if he dragged her out onto the dance floor, slid his arms around her slender waist, and waltzed with her all evening long.

With a last glance at the salon doorway, he strolled back through the maze of guests toward the main ballroom. To one side of the refreshment table stood a tall redheaded woman, surrounded by male admirers. Eliza Duggan had been the subject of an interesting contest last Season. He’d won with less effort than he’d anticipated, and tonight he wasn’t in the mood for her inane tittering. As she caught his eye he nodded and moved on, looking for more virginal game.

Finally he spied what he sought. The debutantes stood bunched together like a flock of chickens waiting for a fox, all fluffed feathers and nervous chattering. Thank God that Alexandra had talked Rose out of blasted feathers. With another glance behind him to make sure a certain caustic governess wasn’t in view, he approached. “Good evening, ladies.”

They curtsied like an undulating ocean wave. “My lord.”

Though only about half of them were on his finalists’ list, all but one at least had some potential. “I have
frightfully few partners for this evening,” he said in his most congenial tone, “and I was wondering if any of you have a space on your dance card for me.”

At the looks of shock and horror they exchanged, Lucien realized he’d made a mistake: he’d given them the option of turning him down. It was a foolish blunder, and he blamed it on Alexandra Gallant. She’d made him so self-conscious about being polite to the delicate little things that he’d strayed into foppishness.

He broke into their stammering before they could flee. “Miss Perkins, surely you have a quadrille left for me. And, Miss Carlton, a waltz would be lovely.”

“But…Yes, my lord,” Miss Carlton squeaked, bobbing another curtsy.

“Excellent. Miss Perkins?”

“I…would be pleased, my lord.”

With a smile he allowed the rest of them to escape. A prolonged conversation with more than one or two of them at once would kill him. As a reward for his efforts and patience so far, he went looking for another glass of whiskey. Matrimony—what a damned annoying thing to have to spend one’s time doing.