Reforming a Rake (19 page)

Finally she moved back a little in his arms to look at him, her lips rosy and swollen from the kiss.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“I almost like you today,” she said, and kissed him again.

Being nice definitely had its benefits—at least, he assumed that was why she was being so friendly. “Wait until you see me tomorrow,” he murmured against her mouth.

She backed away again, panting. “You’re not behaving just because of me, are you?”

He didn’t think he could have answered that if he wanted to. “Would it matter?”

Alexandra ran her fingers across his lips. “I don’t know. I think it does.”

“Regardless of either of our motivations,” he said, running his palms down her hips to her firm, rounded buttocks, “I like the results. I’m beginning to think I should just marry you and get this nonsense—”

She ripped out of his grip. “
What?
”

“—over with.” Despite her shocked expression, he was more interested in his own reaction. He was a bloody genius! He just needed to convince her their union would be in her best interest. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. You need protection from
your family, and I need a wife. It makes perfect s—”

“You need a mother for your heir, not a wife.” She backed away farther, putting the couch between them as though she feared he’d gone mad. “You said so yourself, Lucien.”

“What does that matter? You and I deal well together, and you’re certainly of good family.”

Alexandra jabbed a finger in his direction. “Stop that! I said I
almost
like you today. I don’t need your protection; I can look after myself.”

“I can do it better. Like you said, Alexandra, your next employment prospects look rather grim. This benefits both of us. Don’t be a nodcock.”

“I am not a nodcock, and
you
are the reason I’ll have so much difficulty finding employment!” Her eyes narrowed, she stalked back to him and tried to shove him away from the door. “Move!” she demanded when he didn’t budge. A tear ran down her cheek, followed by another.

“Why should I?”

“Because I changed my mind; I don’t like you at all! And here’s another lesson for you: you can’t have everything you want, especially if it doesn’t want you back!”

His jaw clenched, Lucien stepped aside. Alexandra bolted through the door and slammed it behind her.

“Damnation,” he growled. It
had
been a perfect idea. They were perfect for one another. And besides, he loved her.

Lucien froze, letting that one, very large word tumble about in his mind. It didn’t break anything there, and he rolled it around his chest a little more.
He loved her
—which didn’t help things one blasted bit. “Damnation,” he said again.

He had never expected his prospective bride to be
more reluctant to wed than he was. Nor had he expected to care for, to love, the woman he’d selected to marry. One of them was insane—and he didn’t think it was Alexandra.

“H
e said what?” Victoria set her tea down so abruptly that half of it sloshed out, overflowing the saucer.

Alexandra paced toward the fireplace again. “He said we should marry, because it would be convenient for him.”

“Did he actually use the word ‘convenient’?”

“Well, suffice it to say that he implied it very,
very
strongly.”

“Lex, this is tremendous news! I wish you would sit down, you’re making me dizzy.”

With an annoyed look at her friend, Alexandra continued pacing. “I don’t want to sit. Besides, your parents could return at any moment. I won’t put them through the embarrassment of asking me to leave.”

Vixen sat back amid a pile of pillows. “Fine. Pace, then. But have you considered that marriage to Kilcairn might be just as convenient for you? He’s one of the wealthiest men in England, and no one dares cross him.”

“But you should hear the way he talks about women,
and love, and marriage. It’s awful. Sometimes I just want to whack him.” The other half of the time she wanted to kiss him, and feel his strong, protecting arms around her, but she wasn’t about to part with that information.

“He doesn’t strike me as being a stupid man, Lex. Something must have given him the impression that you would agree to the match.”

“His unmitigated arrogance gives him whatever impression he wants.” She uttered an inarticulate curse. “Please, I don’t want to discuss it any further. My parents married for love, and I will do no less, or I won’t marry at all. For heaven’s sake, we used to talk about that all the time.”

“And now you’re determined to become a spinster, without even having any fun first. Yuck.”

“Vixen, he couldn’t possibly want me and my problems added to his own. How long do you think it would be convenient for him to have Lord Virgil approach him and congratulate him on marrying a poor, ruined artist’s daughter? And when he changes his mind about me, I’ll be in a deeper hole than I am now.”

Victoria looked at her for a moment. “What will you do, then?”

Alexandra shut her eyes. Telling Lucien exactly how she had felt about bowing to his convenience had been easy. Physically and emotionally removing herself from his presence, the next logical step, would be much more difficult. If only he hadn’t said it that way, as though he’d simply fit a piece to a puzzle instead of proposing something as important and permanent as marriage. If only he’d said he cared for her and that he wanted to help her with her troubles, instead of offering to take them on his shoulders as a trade for her consent. If only
he hadn’t said he didn’t believe in love, or even the sanctity of marriage.

“I have to leave, obviously,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I’ve saved most of my salary; it will easily see me to Yorkshire or somewhere equally distant from the stupid gossips of London.”

“Did he tell you to leave?”

She paused in her pacing. “No. But how could I st—”

“Look, Lex, he mentioned something unwelcome and you rebuffed him. He should be the one to feel guilty and to make amends. If Kilcairn is at all a gentleman, he won’t send you away. At least not until you’ve helped him marry off his cousin and found another position.”

“But he’s not a gentleman.” Alexandra plopped herself down in one of the morning room chairs. Obviously none of her lessons had made their way through his thick skull, if he’d thought for one minute that she would want to marry anyone as cynical and sarcastic…and warm and amusing and intelligent as he was. But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—do it. She wouldn’t rely on anyone besides herself. She couldn’t trust anyone else not to let her down.

Vixen continued to gaze at her. “You like him, don’t you?” she finally said.

Abruptly Alexandra needed to pace again. “What I feel toward him doesn’t signify if he feels nothing toward me. And why in the world would I wish to have his poor reputation added to mine?” She shook her head, just the idea of seeing him again sending her into a near panic. “No. I need to leave. As soon as possible.”

“Very well.” With a sigh Victoria rose and walked to her writing desk. She lifted a letter, hesitated, then handed it to Alexandra. “This came yesterday. You seemed so determined to make a good showing here that
I wasn’t going to mention most of its particulars to you. But if you’ve made up your mind to run…well, there you are.”

“It’s not running,” Alexandra retorted, opening the letter. “It’s relocating for the benefit of everyone concerned.” She read the first few lines, then had to sit again. “You weren’t going to tell me that Miss Grenville has died?” she faltered, tears filling her eyes.

Victoria swept up and sat beside her. “That part, I had planned to tell you at the first opportunity. Emma didn’t know where to write to tell you about her aunt, but she knew how highly you regarded her.”

“Patricia was like a second mother to me—and to Emma.” She wiped at her cheeks. “How is Em?”

“She’s grieving, but keeping busy. Miss Grenville willed the Academy to her. She wants to keep it running.”

“Good for Emma. She’ll be a wonderful headmistress. And the Academy may keep its name and its heritage.”

“She’s asked if you might be interested in a teaching position.”

Alexandra let the letter drop into her lap. “
That’s
what you weren’t going to tell me.”

“Not until you were ready to look for another position. But you are, and Emma Grenville has one available for you.”

The butler scratched at the half-open door.

“Yes, Timms?”

He stepped into the doorway. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but Lord Kilcairn is in the library.”

Alexandra’s heart stopped.

“Lord Kilcairn?” Vixen repeated, glancing sideways at her companion. “I shall go see to him.”

“Actually, my lady, he requested a word with Miss
Gallant. He said it was a matter of some urgency.”

“Lex, do you—”

“I’d best go, then,” Alexandra said unsteadily, rising to kiss Victoria on one cheek. “Thank you, and please don’t say anything.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I can manage Lord Kilcairn on my own.” Her poor attempt at self-confidence didn’t even convince herself, but Vixen nodded.

“I’ll be close by.”

The image of petite Victoria defending her against tall, powerful Kilcairn almost made Alexandra smile, and she held firmly to that silly image as she followed the butler down the hallway. Lucien stood in the center of the library, facing the doorway. She took one look at his face and dismissed Timms.

“Lucien,” she said, folding her hands behind her back.

His sensuous lips set in a thin, grim line and his tanned face pale and strained, the earl didn’t budge as the Fontaines’ butler softly closed the door. Gray eyes studied her face for a long moment. “I wanted to apologize,” he said, his voice low and toneless.

“Ap—apologize?”

Lucien cleared his throat. “Yes. As you said, you are an employee, hired to tutor my cousin. We suffered a…temporary lack of restraint, but I had no right to involve you in my personal difficulties. I won’t do so again.”

Looking at his straight-backed, proud stance, Alexandra doubted he’d ever apologized to anyone before in his entire life. Even so, this was an aspect of Lucien Balfour she felt almost acquainted with. This was his honorable side, the part of himself he usually joked about—the side that had stood between her and Virgil
Retting and let her cousin escape virtually unscathed simply because she’d asked him to.

“How did you know I’d be here?” she asked, mostly to give herself time to decipher which game he was playing now—if any.

“Lady Victoria is the only acquaintance you’ve mentioned in London. Will you come back?”

That was it, she realized. He thought she’d left for good, or that she was about to. And he had come to find her, to stop her, to ask her to return. She, a ruined governess, had made Lucien Balfour bend. Trying to keep her breathing and her heartbeat steady, Alexandra nodded. “I said I would help Rose with her party, and I will do so.”

Again he hesitated. “And after that?”

“I have been offered a teaching position at Miss Grenville’s Academy. I will accept it.”

A muscle in his lean cheek jumped, but otherwise he remained as still as a Grecian statue. “As you wish. My cousin was distressed at your…abrupt departure. I request that you return to see her as soon as you are able.”

“I shall.”

She expected him to offer to escort her back to Balfour House, but he walked past her and opened the door without another word. A moment later the front door shut. Alexandra stood there for several minutes. Finally he’d given her what she’d demanded when she first arrived: distance, respect, and propriety. She should have been relieved. She had her position, and no more temptations of physical or marital intimacy. Yet all she could think was that now he’d never want to kiss her again, much less make love to her. Instead of relief, she felt distinctly like crying.

Lucien made a point of not returning home until nearly midnight. He had dinner at White’s with some friends, and then spent the next few hours losing at faro to several substandard players.

He wanted to return home, to make certain she was there, and that she hadn’t packed up her things and her little dog and left. But if he rushed back, or worse yet, if he went home to wait for her, then she would know that every sentence he’d uttered at Fontaine House had been a lie.

His original plan of marrying Alexandra Gallant still seemed utterly brilliant. His execution of said plan, though, had been clumsy, stupid, and completely reprehensible. What he remained certain of was that he needed her to stay. Practical as she was, eventually she would see his point. Until then, he would consider himself in very unfriendly territory, with possible disaster behind each misstep or misspoken word.

After all, foul human that his father had been, even he had managed to marry the bride he’d chosen. Maybe Alexandra was right, and he couldn’t have everything he wanted. But he would have her—or at least he’d make a damned good try at it.

To his surprise, his first obstacle wasn’t Alexandra, but Robert Ellis, Lord Belton. With a good-morning only long enough to confirm in person that Alexandra had returned, he left the breakfast room and went out to the stable to view a new pair of carriage horses he’d purchased.

“Do you own any animals that aren’t black?” Robert asked from the wide stable entry.

Damn
. “It’s a statement of style,” he answered. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Wimbole said you’d gone out, but I ran
across Miss Gallant in your garden. She told me where you were.”

So she was keeping an eye on him—that was promising. “How fortunate.”

“I thought so. She also mentioned that you’d been looking for me, to reschedule my picnic with Miss Delacroix.”

“No, I haven’t.” Lucien handed his grooming brush over to one of the stableboys and headed outside—along the carriage path, so he could avoid the garden and its temptations.

Robert fell into step beside him. “Why not?”

“You can stop your charade, Belton. I know you’re only attempting to drag my miserable existence a little further into the mud.”

The viscount furrowed his brow. “Beg pardon?”

Lucien stopped. “Come now, Robert. Rose Delacroix? Leave be, so the rest of the rabble can have a go at her.”

“Hmm. I won’t contradict you, Lucien, because you won’t listen to it, but I did promise your cousin a picnic. It would be both rude and improper of me to deny her one.”

“My, my, aren’t you polished this morning,” Lucien said dryly. “Then have at it, boy. I’ll even supply the luncheon.”

Robert grinned. “And your phaeton and new pair, if you please.”

“You mean for today?”

“Miss Gallant already informed me that Rose has no engagements this afternoon. She’s gone to fetch her for me.”

Miss Gallant’s behavior was even more annoying than being outmaneuvered by a stripling like Robert. Alexandra suddenly seemed in a damned hurry to marry Rose
off, and it didn’t take much to determine why. When Rose found a husband, her governess would be free to find a new position, all strings tied off neatly.

“Go, then,” he said, hiding his frustration with the ease provided by thirty-two years of practice. “I can only presume that an extended time spent with cousin Rose will cure you of the desire to repeat the experience.”

“You’ve a black heart, Kilcairn.”

Ha—little Robert comprehended. As of yesterday morning, he had become Miss Gallant’s ideal gentleman. Lucien knew what she liked, what she wanted, and what she’d hoped to accomplish in teaching him her scattered lessons in propriety. What she didn’t know was that she’d just succeeded beyond her wildest expectations.

He sent his footmen scurrying off with instructions, then led Robert inside. As they reached the foyer, Rose and Alexandra were descending the stairs, and he paused to wait for them.

“Are you certain you want to go anywhere with this scoundrel, cousin?” he asked, taking her shawl from Wimbole and placing it around her shoulders himself.

Rose blushed. “I’m certain Lord Belton is not a scoundrel.” She giggled. “It will be fun, even if he is.”

“I am a perfect gentleman.” Robert took her arm. “And I’ll have you know that your cousin here is providing us with both our meal and our transportation—and his new team.”

“Really?” Rose gave him a surprised look. “Thank you, Lucien.”

“My pleasure.”

Alexandra looked at least as surprised, but she said nothing as Wimbole opened the front door. The phaeton waited outside, a picnic basket perched in the back,
along with Vincent to tend the horses and serve as chaperone.

Lucien followed them out and handed Rose into the phaeton’s high seat. Making certain Alexandra was near enough to see and hear, he kissed his cousin’s knuckles before he released her hand. “You almost make me want to go on a picnic myself, Rose. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He watched the carriage disappear down Grosvenor Street, then turned to head back inside. Alexandra stood watching him, suspicion in every contour of her lovely face. “After you,” he said, gesturing.