Page 58 of The Earl’s Hoyden

“What may I help you with, Lady Alison?”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing a few moments in that alcove with you.” She peered around him to the small space he’d huddled in with Hannah. “It sounded as if you two were experiencing quite the moment.”

Lucien’s body heated with shame at what he’d done. He should have been more aware—or, at the very least, in better control of himself.

“But Miss Hannah Bexley?” She gave a harsh bark of laughter, all pretense of her delicate giggles and blushes gone.

He took a step forward, his irritation turning to ire. “Miss Bexley is a fine lady and one I would be proud to be seen with.”

“It appears she does not share your sentiment.” Lady Alison lifted a hand and examined her fitted kidskin gloves indifferently. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You may be an honorable gentleman, but she is no lady.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes. “I don’t approve of your insinuation.”

“It’s not an insinuation.” She tilted her chin at an arrogant angle. “Did you know I went to Lady Finch’s Finishing School with Miss Bexley?”

While this was not something he was aware of, Lucien remained quiet, refusing to feed into whatever claim she intended to lay at his feet.

“She has never been a lady, not in the truest sense,” Lady Alison mused. “Don’t you want to know what I do?”

“Who she was or what she did is not any of my concern.” And he meant every damn word. He knew Hannah for who she was now. Whatever she had done in her past did not define the woman who had so dazzled him with her brilliance.

“Even if she doesn’t marry you, you ought to know.” Lady Alison shrugged her shoulders and then paused to pet the thick fur stole draped around her torso. “She’s the lightskirt type.”

The claim was ridiculous. Hannah struck him as anything but a roundheel. Yes, she expressed her joy in a manner more jubilant than most, and yes, she was amorous when she’d been in his embrace. But that did not make her a “lightskirt type,” as Lady Alison stated so crudely.

“There was a bit of a sordid affair between her and the stablehand while at the school.” Lady Alison covered her mouth with her hand in an exaggerated show of shock. “Surely, you should care about that. A stablehand…” She dropped her hand away and said the latter part with a look of distaste curling her full red lips.

“I do hate to disappoint you, but I truly do not care.” He moved to walk past her, but she put a brazen hand on his chest, stopping him.

“It would be a shame if someone were to discover this little tryst between you.” Lady Alison bit her bottom lip. “Considering how popular you are now, such gossip would spread like wildfire.”

She stepped closer, bringing the cloying sweetness of her perfume with her. “Miss Bexley would be ruined.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t like her.” She drew an invisible pattern on the lapel of his coat. “But I very much like you.”

An uneasy sensation tightened in his stomach.

“Or at least, I like your popularity,” she said airily. “I want you to seek out my father for permission to court me.”

Lucien lifted a brow, certain he had heard her incorrectly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I do not believe I mumbled or stammered in my request.” Her lips peeled back into a vicious smile. “You heard me. I want you to go to my father to ask for permission to court me.”

Lucien stared at her in horror.

“Oh, come now.” She pouted at him in mockery. “You needn’t look at me like that. I don’t expect you to marry me. Why would I want an earl when I could have a duke?” Rolling her eyes, she continued, “You only need to court me long enough for people to notice. Don’t worry, it shan’t consume too much of your season.” She tossed a blonde sausage-roll curl of hair behind her shoulder with a flippant air. “Then I can cease being with you once I’ve garnered the attention I need.”

Good God, she had calculated everything in her bid to stretch to the top. And it had only required the few short moments that she had witnessed the tryst between him and Hannah for her to compose it all so thoroughly.

Lady Alison was proof that true evil did exist. Only now, such poison came to Lucien in primped curls and wearing some poor woodland creature strung about her shoulders like a vicious prize.

“Don’t look so glum.” She reached out with her gloved hand and touched the underside of his chin, elevating his face. “There will be many ladies waiting to soothe your wounded heart. I assure you this will be advantageous for us both.”

“And if I refuse?”

Her eyes darkened. “Then Miss Bexley will never have the opportunity to wed any man, and it will be entirely your fault.”