The Season(22)

“No. What I learned was that men are gluttons for punishment. Why ‘chase’ me when they could catch any number of eligible young females from last evening?”

“Silly girl…because chasing you makes for more of a challenge—and more of a reward.”

Alex offered an amused snort. “I assure you, my lord. Considering my feelings about being ‘caught,’ I would provide little, if any, reward.”

While his body remained relaxed, his eyes narrowed on her and his voice deepened as he responded, “On the contrary, Alex. Your resistance to marriage would make the reward of successfully courting you that much sweeter. Turning your desire for spinsterhood into a desire for something else would be quite a coup for any man. Which is why all of these men”—he indicated the room with a lazy wave of his hand—“have thrown their hats in the ring.”

Feeling slightly unnerved by Blackmoor’s words, Alex stood and moved to the sideboard to pour herself a cup of tea. With her back to him, she spoke. “Surely not all men feel that way. After all, Penelope Grayson made her…availability… rather plainly known last night, and you didn’t seem to shy away from it.”

“No, I didn’t.” The response was unapologetic.

“And I suppose you sent flowers to her house this morning, just as all these men did to me?”

“Actually, I didn’t. But if I had, I can’t see that it would matter. Why are you so interested, Alex?”

She turned from the sideboard, stirring her tea. “I find I’m rather fascinated by the whole ordeal, to be frank. Who knew one night at a ball could wreak such romantic havoc on so many men at one time?” Settling herself back on the settee, she resumed reading the stack of cards and invitations that had arrived that morning.

“Lord Fairfax thinks that my hair is the color of the eastern sky at dawn.”

“Lord Fairfax is your father’s age.”

“Granted, but it’s a flattering sentiment.” At his harrumph, she continued, “Oh, my. The Marquess of Jonesborough requests I join him for a ride in his phaeton this afternoon; only he fears that my beauty will blind his horses.” The end of the sentence was swallowed by Alex’s own disbelieving giggle. “Surely he can’t think I would take that seriously.”

“Considering how seriously Jonesborough takes himself, I can’t imagine how he would think otherwise.”

Shuffling through several more cards quickly, Alex rolled her eyes to the ceiling and groaned, “What am I going to do? I actually must go riding with one of these dolts!” Leveling him with a glance, she queried with a sparkle in her eye, “You don’t write such tripe to the women you hope to interest, do you?”

“I should hope not,” he responded indignantly. “Good God, I have much more originality. These men clearly aren’t thinking about how best they can interest you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Quite simply, you’re not the type to be wooed with poetry or false compliments.”

“I’m not?” Now she was interested. “But I like poetry.”

His reply brooked no rebuttal. “No, you don’t. Not like this. They haven’t got it right at all.”

“Enlighten me, Lord Blackmoor, how should I be wooed, as you put it? I am intrigued by your obvious expertise.”

He was quick to respond, “You’re too vibrant for them. Too strong. You have a sharp mind and an exciting personality and an unexpected sense of humor. If these men were half the man you deserve, they would have already recognized all those things and they would be romancing you accordingly. They would be working to intrigue and amuse and inspire you—just as you do them. And they would know that only when they have won your mind will they even have a chance at winning your heart.”

The room felt much warmer all of a sudden, and Alex resisted the urge to fan herself, trying to ignore the rapid increase in her pulse as color flooded her cheeks. In the silence that followed his impassioned speech, Gavin stood and walked over to her. A cocky grin spread across his face. “That’s how I write to the women I hope to interest, Alex.”

She attempted a cool response. “Perhaps…” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat, beginning anew. “Perhaps you should consider holding classes. I am acquainted with quite a few men who could do with some training. More than forty of them, it seems. Lord save me.”

He chuckled as he removed the pile of calling cards from her hand and set them on a nearby table. Offering her a hand, he pulled her up to stand in front of him. “There’s only one way to save you from them today.”

“Oh?” The single syllable was all she could manage. Had he always been this broad? This tall? Had his eyes always been such a dark, smoky grey?

“Come riding with me.”

eight

Alex sat tall in the high, two-seated carriage, one hand keeping her bonnet from flying off as the fleet-footed team of horses trotted down Park Lane toward Hyde Park. She smiled up at Blackmoor from underneath the wide-brimmed hat, green eyes flashing. “I certainly prefer riding with you, my lord.”

“I thought you might.”

“May I drive?”

“You think I’d consider handing over the reins of this remarkable equipage?” He replied with feigned superiority. For generations, the Earls of Blackmoor had prided themselves on having the most current and impressive modes of transportation. The most recent earl was no different, and the brand-new curricle in which they were riding was certain to be the envy of many.