The Untamed Earl by Valerie Bowman

was time to change the subject. Perhaps they’d both feel more comfortable. “Why don’t you tell me something about Lady Lavinia and I’ll give you your first lesson in dancing properly.”
    â€œVery well.” Alex paced in front of him, her hands folded tightly together. “As I said yesterday, to win Lavinia’s heart, you must learn to comport yourself as a gentleman. A romantic gentleman.”
    â€œMy dear girl, I don’t even know what a ‘ romantic gentleman’ is.”
    Alex smoothed her hands down her skirts and blinked at him. “He’s the type who writes love ballads and sings them to his ladylove.”
    â€œHis ladylove?” Owen’s voice rose sharply, as did his eyebrow. “I’m honorable. Isn’t that enough?”
    Alex smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Not for Lavinia.”
    He rubbed his chin. “A gentleman, eh?”
    â€œYes, a gentleman. A romantic one. I’m certain you have it in you.”
    He laughed out loud. “I’m not certain I do. Not at all.”
    Again, Alex smiled at him—a smile that was entirely disarming. “I have faith in you.”
    The words Owen had been about to say caught in his throat. There was something poignant in the fact that this young woman, this stranger, had said something to him that his own father could not.
    Owen pushed away the thought and moved from the table, turning in a circle. “Very well. What would a romantic gentleman do to properly court a lady?”
    Alex patted her coiffure. “He would bring her gifts.”
    He gave a mock groan. “Must I?”
    Alex crossed her arms over her chest and paced away from him. “Perhaps write her a sonnet.”
    Owen shook his head. “Not a chance.”
    Alex waved one hand in the air in a flourish. “Tell her that her eyes are the blue of heaven.”
    â€œSeriously, not a chance.”
    Alex stopped pacing, turned, and regarded him head-on. “At the very least, he should begin by asking her to take a turn about the room with him instead of her sister.”
    Owen tugged at his cuff. “Very funny. That was an honest mistake. By the by, does she enjoy a turn about the room?”
    â€œNot particularly.”
    â€œAlex, is there anything that your sister actually does enjoy?”
    â€œShe quite enjoys gazing at herself in the mirror.”
    Owen groaned.
    *   *   *
    Alex fought her blush. No one called her Alex. Ever. Why did she like it when he did? And why was she already taking to the name herself? She shook her head. She had to concentrate on his questions about Lavinia and not on how good he looked in his skintight buckskin breeches or the fact that he smelled like a delicious combination of faint woodsmoke and soap. But this was why she’d come here, and she had to execute her plan. The threat of sonnets and poetry might not be enough. She tried to banish her guilt over the lie she was about to tell. She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers, which were hidden in her skirts. “Lavinia likes it when gentlemen are forceful, forthright.”
    Owen’s eyebrows shot up. “Excellent. I am both. And?”
    â€œAnd what?” How many things was he expecting her to tell him right away?
    He came to stand near her, and Alex gulped as she realized how much taller he was than she. She hadn’t been quite this close last night. Standing at his full height, he had to be at least three inches over six feet tall to her five feet five inches. Not to mention his broad shoulders distracted her.
    â€œWhat else does she like?” he asked, jarring her from her thoughts.
    Very well. He expected more than just one thing. She could do this. Alex sucked in a deep breath once more and searched her memory for her conversation with Lavinia. She kept her fingers crossed in her skirts so he couldn’t see. “She greatly admires a man who