The Season(25)

“Indeed. You have judged it—and her, I might add—wrongly. Were she here, you would owe her an apology.”

Alex flushed, embarrassed, and blinked back the tears that had sprung to her eyes in response to his scolding. He was impassioned and filled with intense affront—all for Penelope’s honor. She had no doubt that, were she anyone else, he would have delivered a scathing set-down. Instead, his tone revealed not anger with her opinions but disappointment in her voicing them. All at once, she was aware of his position, not as her friend but as a well-bred gentleman, defending a woman’s honor. And, for a fleeting moment, she couldn’t help but envy Penelope just a little. How would it feel to have Blackmoor defend her?

“That said,” he pressed on, deliberately ignoring her embarrassment, “you are right about most men. We are, of course, initially drawn to the immediate. To beauty, wealth, youth, what have you. Each of us has our own weakness. But without the rest—the intelligence, the wit, the humor—our attraction is short-lived. At least, mine is. And I am not alone. Of that I am certain.”

He had moved past her criticism of Penelope deftly, without allowing for discussion, arguing his side of the debate with cool reason, conceding where necessary, and concluding with an unflappable, quiet certainty.

It was as though her insult had never been uttered. Of course, it had been, and she was going to have to apologize. She grimaced at the thought. She hated apologizing. She took a deep breath. “My apologies. I never meant to imply that Penelope’s intellect was inferior.”

He smiled, reaching out to tap her on her chin, “Of course you did, Minx. However, I appreciate that it has never been easy for you to apologize, and so I will accept this one without argument.” She blushed, chastised, as his eyes narrowed on a point over her shoulder. “Besides, I am not overly fond of certain members of your legion of suitors.”

Confused, Alex turned her head to follow his gaze and broke into a broad smile when she saw Lord Stanhope seated high on a beautiful black gelding riding next to the carriage. Stanhope tipped his hat and offered a greeting. “Lord Blackmoor, this is a stunning curricle. I should like one just like it for myself!” Turning to Alex, his voice dropped. “And you are doubly lucky—for you have found the only companion worthy of such transport. Lady Alexandra, as ever, it is a pleasure to see you.” He allowed himself a lazy perusal of her attire before continuing, “You are particularly lovely this afternoon…that color only makes you more beautiful.”

Alex looked down at the dark blue riding habit she had donned for her outing, appreciating the rich texture of the fabric and the deep color against her bright skin, and she smiled warmly into Stanhope’s glittering brown eyes. Taking in the cut of his dark coat, the perfect knot in his cravat, the tilt of his gleaming black hat, she replied, “Why, thank you, my lord. And you look rather dashing yourself!”

He leaned over with a conspiratorial, flirty whisper: “I took extra care in preparing for this outing, Lady Alexandra. One never knows when one might run into a lady of extraordinary beauty.”

She laughed at his bald statement and replied with a shake of her head, “You’re incorrigible!”

He joined her in her laughter and turned his attention to Blackmoor. “Your companion seems to think I’m rather more than incorrigible, my lady.”

“Indeed,” agreed Blackmoor, darkly, “it’s not the first word I would use to describe you, Stanhope.”

“Come now,” Stanhope teased, “you’ve always enjoyed my exploits in the past, old chap.” He turned back to Alex with a wide smile. “After all, what’s wrong with a little bit of flirting between friends?”

Alex cut in before Blackmoor could speak, “There’s nothing at all wrong with it, Freddie. It’s my fault that Blackmoor is in such an ill humor. I’m afraid I’ve landed him there.”

Stanhope responded with feigned shock, “Surely not! You couldn’t possibly bring ill humor. Shall I tell you why?”

“Please do!” Alex was beginning to really enjoy herself.

Stanhope leaned close. “Too pretty.”

Blackmoor rolled his eyes in obvious irritation as Alex’s laugh tinkled around them. “Stanhope, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Perhaps someone else to ply with your charm and wit?”

His rudeness was undeniable, and Alex felt compelled to speak. “I rather enjoy Lord Stanhope’s charm and wit. I find it quite refreshing, honestly.”

Stanhope’s face broke into a devastatingly handsome grin. “Well said, my lady. However, Lord Blackmoor did win your company this afternoon, and I should hate to take any more of your attention. That said, may I have your permission to call on you on Sunday for a similar excursion?” Reaching for her hand and waggling his eyebrows, he added, “I shall endeavor to be all propriety.”

She couldn’t control the giggle that escaped her at his silliness and she placed her hand in his, watching as he effortlessly bowed over it despite their awkward positions. “I should like that very much, my lord. Sunday it is.”

Stanhope’s “Capital” was lost as Blackmoor urged the curricle forward and Alex’s hand was wrenched from the other man’s grasp. She leaned out the side of the carriage to wave good-bye to her friend, then turned back to her companion. “That wasn’t very nice. Freddie didn’t even get a chance to say his farewells.”