"True," she admitted baldly. "Alexandra, why do you still look doubtful?"
"For one thing, because your plan seems to hinge on all of us going out in public right away. Your other grandson," Alexandra said, referring to Jordan in deliberately impersonal terms that clearly indicated she did not wish to acknowledge him by name, title, or temporary legal relationship to herself, "ordered me yesterday to remain in this house. An order, by the by, which I have no intention of following," she finished rebelliously.
The duchess' forehead furrowed into a brief frown. "He wasn't thinking clearly," she said after a moment's thought. "Doing so would indicate to everyone that you are ashamed of your attempted marriage to Tony. Moreover, it would imply an estrangement between your husband and yourself. No, my dear," she finished, brightening. "Jordan could not have thought the matter through when he ordered you thus. We shall all go out into society in another day or two. He cannot object to that. I will speak to him in your behalf."
"No, Grandmama," Alexandra said gently, "please don't. I'm a grown woman now, and I don't need anyone to speak for me. Moreover, I have no intention of letting him order me about. He has no right."
The duchess started at this undutiful, unwifely statement. "What fustian! A husband has the legal right to govern his wife's activities. And while we're on the subject, my dear, will you let me give you some advice about dealing with your husband in the future?"
Each time the dowager referred to Jordan as Alexandra's husband, Alex mentally ground her teeth, but all she said was a polite "Yes, of course."
"Good. You were understandably upset yesterday when you insisted he speak with you at once, but you provoked him, and that is most unwise. You do not know him as I do. Jordan can be a harsh man when angered, and it was obvious he was already annoyed with you yesterday about your attempted marriage to Anthony."
Alexandra was indignant and hurt that the elderly duchess, whom she had come to love, apparently was wholly biased in Jordan's favor. "He was inexcusably rude yesterday," she said tightly. "And I'm sorry if it makes you despise me, ma'am, but I can't pretend to be happy I'm married to him. You have obviously forgotten how he felt about me and our marriage. Moreover, he has done things I cannot abide, and his character is—is flawed!" she finished lamely.
Unexpectedly, the old duchess grinned. "I cannot possibly hate you, my child. You are the granddaughter I never had." Putting her arm around Alexandra's shoulders, she smilingly added, "I would be the last to pretend that Jordan's dealings with women have been anything to boast about. I shall leave it up to you, however, to change all that. And remember this, my dear: Reformed rakes often make the best husbands."
"When and if they do reform," Alexandra said bitterly, "and I don't want to be married to him."
"Of course you don't. At least not at present. But you have no choice, you know, because you're already married to him. I'll confess that I am looking forward, with considerable glee, to watching you bring him to heel."
Alexandra's mouth dropped open at that announcement, which paralleled Tony's and Melanie's feelings exactly. "I can't, and even if I—"
"You can and you will," the duchess declared in a flat no-nonsense tone, and then her eyes softened as she pointedly said, "You'll do it, Alexandra, if only to even the score with him. You have pride and spirit and courage." Alexandra opened her mouth to argue, but the duchess had already turned to Tony.
"Anthony, I've no doubt Hawthorne will expect some sort of explanation from you about why you decided to marry Alexandra, and we ought to consider carefully what you say."
"You're too late, my dear. Hawk had me on the carpet in his library at the uncivilized hour of eight o'clock this morning, and that was the first thing he wanted to know."
The duchess looked slightly alarmed for the first time. "I hope you told him it was an—an 'expedient' measure. That explanation has a nice ring to it. Or you could have told him it was nothing more than a whim, or—"
"I told him no such thing," Tony grinned devilishly. "I told him I had to marry her because London's most eligibles were making damned nuisances of themselves offering for her hand, quarreling over her, and hatching schemes to abduct her."
The duchess' hand flew to her throat. "You didn't!"
"I did."
"Why, for heaven's sake?"
"Because it's the truth," Anthony said with a chuckle, "And because he'd have found out in a matter of days anyway."
"Some future time would have been far more propitious!"
"But not nearly so satisfying," Anthony joked (and Alexandra thought he was the dearest, kindest man alive), "because he'd have heard it from someone else, and I wouldn't have been there to see his reaction."
"How did he react?" Alexandra asked, because she couldn't stop herself.
"He didn't," Anthony said and shrugged. "But that's Hawk for you. He never shows how he feels. He's better known for his composure than his flir—"
"That will be enough, Anthony," said the duchess, going over to tug on the bellrope and summon her maids.
Alexandra and Tony also arose. "Do you feel up to some fencing this morning?" he asked.
Alexandra nodded. Fencing would be the perfect thing to help the time before her interview with Jordan pass more quickly.
Shortly before twelve-thirty, Higgins appeared in Jordan's study to deliver a note from a gentleman with offices in Bow Street, which explained that the sender was unwell and wished to postpone their confidential meeting until tomorrow.
Jordan glanced at the butler, deciding to move up his meeting with Alexandra. "Where is your mistress, Higgins?"
"In the ballroom, your grace, fencing with Lord Anthony."
Jordan opened the doors of the huge ballroom on the third floor and walked inside, unnoticed by the pair of skilled duelists moving ceaselessly about the floor, their rapiers clashing, then breaking free as they parried and thrust with grace and expertise.
Propping his shoulder against the wall, Jordan watched them, his unswerving gaze on the lithesome female figure clad in revealing men's breeches that clung to the graceful lines of her slim hips and long legs. She was, Jordan realized, not merely talented with the rapier as he had long ago supposed; she was, in fact, a brilliant swordsman with faultless timing, lightning-quick reflexes, and stunningly executed moves.