But the question so surprised her that Lucia glanced quickly away. “That’s not the point,” she began feebly. “I asked you—”
“And now I’m asking you.” His gaze continued to pierce her.
“I’m not the one afraid of love and marriage.” She tossed her curls.
“Are you insinuating that I am?”
“You told Francesca you’d never marry, and now you admit that you believe any man in love a fool. Doesn’t that indicate some fear?” She raised a brow, and her chin with it.
“No. I’m merely being practical,” he said, sounding unfazed. “I prefer my freedom to the constraints of conjugal bliss. I have no intention of making a fool of myself over some chit.”
Lucia huffed, offended again for some inexplicable reason. “Even if you loved her?”
“Not even if I loved her.” The sarcasm was back, thick as porridge.
“Well, then you must certainly never have been in love.” Lucia nodded, sat back, and crossed her arms.
“And how have you come to that conclusion?”
“Because a man, or woman, in love will do anything for the object of his or her devotion. A man in love will risk death, pain, humiliation for his love. Look at history!” She sat forward again, warming to her topic. “Look at all the great lovers and their sacrifices. Certainly if men through the ages are willing to risk their lives and their honor for the women they adore, then, were you in love, you wouldn’t be afraid to appear a little foolish.”
“You’ve been reading too many novels, Miss Dashing. Next you’ll be telling Dewhurst and me that knights slew dragons and Lancelot risked all for Guinevere.”
Lucia smiled. “Make light of it all you want, but you’re only doing so because your argument is without merit.”
“I see. In that case, I wait with bated breath to witness the great love-inspired deeds Dandridge performs for you or you for him.” He gave her a smug smile, and Lucia glared at him.
“Certainly one who speaks so eloquently on the subject of love must be deeply in love herself.” Alex’s comment, heavy with sarcasm, hung in the carriage between them.
Tossing her curls again, Lucia didn’t deign to reply. How did he always manage to get the upper hand? She’d yet to win an argument. She tapped her toe and stared out the window, hands clasped together tightly.
One of these days he was going to be wrong, and she was going to make sure he knew it.
Chapter Eleven
“Oh! Horrid, insolent man!” Lucia muttered after she’d arrived home and flung her blue and white day dress into the corner of her room. She pulled impatiently at her petticoat. “He’s a rake, a scoundrel, a blackguard and—”
She couldn’t think of any more insults. She couldn’t even think of words sufficient to express the depth of her hatred for him. “Infuriating man!” She flopped on the bed and lay fuming before bounding right back up again.
“Damn him!” She didn’t want to be angry that he’d bedded every woman from here to Scotland. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t care. He was not a nice man and she did not want to see him again. Or kiss him. Or touch him.
Lord! What was wrong with her?
She’d known the first time she’d seen him, he was not the kind of man with whom young ladies like her associated. But at fourteen, the forbidden had been wildly exciting. Now she was older and he was no less exciting, but if she allowed it, he’d use and discard her like a wrinkled cravat.
Was her reputation and that of her family worth so little to her? She sank down on the bed. Lord, she must be mad to lounge about fantasizing like a schoolgirl about Selbourne when all the while she was engaged to Dandridge. What was she doing? Falling in love with a man who’d made it clear he didn’t believe in love? A rake who changed women as often as tailcoats?
Well, she would not be another of Selbourne’s conquests. His dalliances. She was no strumpet. From now on their relationship was to be strictly business.
But that was easier said than done.
If only Alex would stop looking at her that way. The way that hinted he knew exactly what she needed, wanted . . . and more. The way that made her forget all her resolutions and want to melt in his arms all over again.
Lord! She had to stop thinking about him!
Friday evening Ethan and Francesca gave a small dinner party, and Lucia was in a much better mood. She’d even decided to be pleasant. Selbourne hadn’t informed her what he’d learned after visiting her brother’s creditors, and it was much easier to get information from men if they saw her as sweet, pretty, and docile. With that in mind, when Lucia saw Selbourne swagger into Francesca and Ethan’s drawing room—late at half past seven—she gave him her brightest smile. It was a smile calculated to both beguile and disarm him—a smile that had never failed her before.
And for a moment, she felt the heady surge of victory. Selbourne stopped cold and stared. She had to stifle a giggle. But the sound died in her throat when he narrowed his eyes and headed in the opposite direction. Lucia bit back a frustrated scream and turned back to Reginald, who’d been discussing the unseasonably warm weather for the past quarter hour. With a jolt, she realized Reginald was silent and watching her, arms crossed in disapproval.
