of hours familiarising yourself with the contents of Debrett’s,’ he suggested, standing and perusing the shelves until he found the heavy book he was looking for.
Lina sighed, levered herself out of her chair and followed him over to the small table.
‘And what on earth is Debrett’s?’
‘It is a peerage reference book.’
Lina glared at it suspiciously.
‘You do know how to read?’ Alex regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.
‘Just because I’m not titled Lady Lina or Lady Lock or even Lady Lina Lock doesn’t mean I can’t read,’ Lina said huffily, pulling the dusty old tome out of his hands. ‘I would just prefer to read something actually interesting instead of this list of names.’
‘I apologise,’ Alex said, touching Lina lightly on the back of the hand. He felt her stiffen under his touch and quickly withdrew his fingers. It was inappropriate and Alex wasn’t sure what had made him reach out and stroke her hand, but he regretted it immediately.
Ever since Lina had arrived at Whitemore House twenty-four hours ago the time had whizzed past in a whirlwind of activity. It was rather refreshing to have Lina question why they did certain things, to see her amusement at their customs and her awe at the splendour of her surroundings. She was loud, opinionated, sarcastic and not afraid to say exactly what she was feeling, but Alex could see there was more to the spirited gypsy girl than first appearances would suggest. The way he’d caught her running her fingers lovingly along the books on the bookshelves as he’d entered the library, how her eyes had lit up as she watched him with the Arabian horse the day before and how already she and his sister seemed the closest of confidants.
She was pretty, too. Petite and slender, her skin coloured with a hint of warm caramel and dark hair and eyes that told of a heritage somewhere in her ancestors’ past. Once or twice Alex had found himself watching her lips as she smiled and her hips as she moved around the room with a lightness of foot that identified her as a dancer.
This attraction he felt was surprising. Long ago he had been a man who thoroughly enjoyed the company of women. He had kept mistresses, discreetly, of course, and dallied with a selection of both suitable and unsuitable companions. Then Victoria had come along, the woman he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. He’d gently cut off his association with his mistresses, determined to start his married life as he meant to go on: faithful to his wife. Unfortunately Victoria hadn’t shared his values.
Since then Alex hadn’t had the same appreciation for a beautiful woman. He hadn’t reconnected with any of his old mistresses, hadn’t felt that spark of attraction with anyone really. Until now.
It was completely inappropriate and unhelpful. Lina was from a different world and she was here to help him win a wager, not to become his new mistress.
‘Just have a flick through,’ Alex suggested, motioning to the book. ‘I’ll ring for some tea.’ Or something stronger.
Dutifully Lina leafed through the pages of the book, stopping every so often to read an entry. It was quite satisfying to watch her expression turn from one of mild boredom to avid interest.
‘Did you know the Duke of Hampshire has been married six times?’ Lina asked.
‘Unfortunately, yes. He’s rather a lecherous old man, but women can’t help throwing themselves at his title and money, it would seem.’
‘Does he kill them off?’
Alex nearly choked on the mouthful of tea he had just imbibed.
‘Well, to lose one or two is unfortunate... Six is just suspicious,’ Lina said with a grin.
‘I’ll ask him next time I see him.’
‘You know him?’
‘Went to school with one of his sons. From his second marriage, I think.’
‘I’d love to meet him.’
‘Certainly not.’ Alex realised he sounded like a pompous old man. ‘Unless you’re hoping to become wife number seven,’ he added.
Lina fell quiet for a while, turning the pages and occasionally smiling to herself. After a few minutes, she sat back and turned to Alex. Inwardly he groaned. Normally he would praise a woman for having an enquiring mind, but there was a certain way Lina asked her questions—a tenacious stubbornness not to let any matter rest if she wasn’t quite satisfied—that was exhausting. Alex didn’t normally mind admitting he didn’t know something; it happened rarely enough and often the subject matter was something obscure seeing that he was well educated and had an enquiring mind, but he had lost count of the number of times he’d had to concede he wasn’t entirely sure of an answer since Lina’s arrival.
‘What would happen if I addressed someone incorrectly?’ Lina asked.
Alex frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, imagine we are at this ball of yours in six weeks’ time.’
He had to suppress a shudder at the thought. Right now Lina was so far from being ready she’d fuel the gossips for a decade if he took her to a London ball.
‘I’m imagining it...’ he murmured.
‘And you introduce me to some duke or duchess.’
Heaven forbid. At the moment he was wondering if he could get away with only letting Lina talk to strategically placed friends around this proposed ballroom.
‘I curtsy.’
Alex had seen her curtsies; they would certainly need at least half a day’s work.
‘And then I address him as Duke Dorrington. What would happen?’
‘I still don’t understand the question.’ Alex could understand the words, but wasn’t entirely sure exactly what Lina wanted to know.
‘Would I be hauled in front of a magistrate? Exiled to Australia? Would the ceiling of the ballroom crumble on top of me? Would the Duke expire from shock? What. Would. Happen?’
Alex had forgotten to include prone to exaggerate in his mental list of Lina’s qualities.
‘You would probably get some very hard looks and the whispering would start as soon as you were out of earshot.’
‘Oh, Lord—not the whispering,’ Lina murmured.
‘A woman’s reputation can be ruined by just one poorly timed remark or faux pas in form of address.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Everyone makes mistakes.’
Alex agreed. The etiquette and rules of polite society did seem over the top sometimes.
‘To you it may not be of great concern to have some gossipy matrons judging you, but imagine if you were a debutante eagerly searching for a husband. These women would be part of your social circle for the rest of your life and who knows whom they may have influence over? In a matter of minutes you could go from the most eligible young woman in the ballroom
