The Season
Page 25
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.”
“Didn’t he? I thought he did that while quite improperly asking you to spend Sunday afternoon with him while you were in the company of another gentleman.”
“For goodness sake, Blackmoor, I don’t know why it bothers you so much. After all, it’s not as though you and I are actually on an outing.”
He turned a surprised look on her and waved a hand to indicate their surroundings. “No? How is this not an outing?”
“You know very well what I mean. Certainly we are on an outing. But not in the way that most of these other couples are ‘on an outing.’ There, look there.” She pointed to a couple walking toward them on the other side of the Row, the eldest son of the Marquess of Budleigh and the youngest daughter of the Earl of Exeter. The young woman was looking at her companion with a look of starry-eyed adoration, and he appeared to be returning her attentions. “They are courting and, to look at them, they might well be the first match of the season. A good one, too,” she added, distracted for a moment by the twosome.
He spoke, shaking her from her reverie. “How does this relate to Stanhope’s impropriety?”
“There was nothing improper about Stanhope’s behavior, and you know it. You and I look nothing like those two. And everyone who sees us—especially Stanhope, who has been friends with us both for years—knows we’re just out for a ride. Not out for a ride.”
He looked at her, shaking his head in confusion. “Women truly are strange and unknowable creatures.”
She smiled at him, color high on her cheeks. “Indeed. But your kind would not like us quite so much if we were all transparency.”
After a few moments of thought, he nodded. “That much is true, Alex. That much is true.” They rode along in silence for a few minutes before he pressed, “So, are you…intrigued…by Stanhope?”
“Intrigued by him?”
“Indeed. Do you find him…” he paused.
“Intriguing?” she teased.
He sent her an exasperated look.
“Lord Stanhope is a good friend and an even better companion. He is entertaining and interesting and intelligent and full of energy. I can think of few others with whom I would like to spend an afternoon. However, you know my opinion of marriage and all of its trappings. I’m not interested in it. Not with Freddie, nor with anyone else. And he knows that as well as anyone, I should think.”
“I rather imagine that he’s not looking for marriage either,” Blackmoor replied drily.
“What does that mean?”
“Simply that men like Stanhope are not the marrying kind. At the risk of repeating our conversation from last night and engaging in an additional verbal battle, I caution you. I know Stanhope. He’s rarely after something respectable. Which leaves your good reputation in the balance.”
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.”
“Didn’t he? I thought he did that while quite improperly asking you to spend Sunday afternoon with him while you were in the company of another gentleman.”
“For goodness sake, Blackmoor, I don’t know why it bothers you so much. After all, it’s not as though you and I are actually on an outing.”
He turned a surprised look on her and waved a hand to indicate their surroundings. “No? How is this not an outing?”
“You know very well what I mean. Certainly we are on an outing. But not in the way that most of these other couples are ‘on an outing.’ There, look there.” She pointed to a couple walking toward them on the other side of the Row, the eldest son of the Marquess of Budleigh and the youngest daughter of the Earl of Exeter. The young woman was looking at her companion with a look of starry-eyed adoration, and he appeared to be returning her attentions. “They are courting and, to look at them, they might well be the first match of the season. A good one, too,” she added, distracted for a moment by the twosome.
He spoke, shaking her from her reverie. “How does this relate to Stanhope’s impropriety?”
“There was nothing improper about Stanhope’s behavior, and you know it. You and I look nothing like those two. And everyone who sees us—especially Stanhope, who has been friends with us both for years—knows we’re just out for a ride. Not out for a ride.”
He looked at her, shaking his head in confusion. “Women truly are strange and unknowable creatures.”
She smiled at him, color high on her cheeks. “Indeed. But your kind would not like us quite so much if we were all transparency.”
After a few moments of thought, he nodded. “That much is true, Alex. That much is true.” They rode along in silence for a few minutes before he pressed, “So, are you…intrigued…by Stanhope?”
“Intrigued by him?”
“Indeed. Do you find him…” he paused.
“Intriguing?” she teased.
He sent her an exasperated look.
“Lord Stanhope is a good friend and an even better companion. He is entertaining and interesting and intelligent and full of energy. I can think of few others with whom I would like to spend an afternoon. However, you know my opinion of marriage and all of its trappings. I’m not interested in it. Not with Freddie, nor with anyone else. And he knows that as well as anyone, I should think.”
“I rather imagine that he’s not looking for marriage either,” Blackmoor replied drily.
“What does that mean?”
“Simply that men like Stanhope are not the marrying kind. At the risk of repeating our conversation from last night and engaging in an additional verbal battle, I caution you. I know Stanhope. He’s rarely after something respectable. Which leaves your good reputation in the balance.”
