“I could draw only one solution in order to rid you off those unfriendly rumors, Howell,” Edward began. Both of them were sitting in Sir Alford’s study, but with the owner of the room absent. A letter suddenly came and the old man excused himself from the room, leaving the two friends to discuss topics outside the nature of antiques while in the middle of playing a round of cards. “We must get you a woman.”

      She looked sideways at him for a brief moment before turning her attention back to her hand. “I imagined you would be more creative than that.”

      He shrugged. “It is, after all, the most direct solution to this singular problem – and a rather grand idea,” he added, thinking of the possible pursuits both of them could employ. “Do you not mind those slandering tongues spreading rumors against yourself? It does not help, you understand, that most of your spare time is spent with me or with my uncle, or with the bourgeoisie. Especially the latter party. You give the ton an impression that you are vulgar – and that you are interested in other things,” he finished, amused at the portrait of Alex he painted. He put down all cards on his hand. The earl has, obviously, lost interest in the game and found brainstorming for ideas to be more engaging.

      In truth, Alex did not care very much for the rumors. Only it worried her that it might affect her sister’s season, and she had an inkling of the doubts that might have been forming in her friend’s mind. He might not voice them out but she would not find it surprising if he wanted to reassure himself that she was, by some degrees, “normal.” Both were ideas which convinced her to play along with what Montagu called, “a rather grand idea.”

      “Tell me, then, and I shall go along with you.”

      Montagu’s eyes brightened at his friend’s acquiescence. “We shall play the role of rakes – the sooner, the better!”

      “I do not think this is such a wise decision, however,” she said, resigned to the fact that the warning may go unheeded. As expected, the young earl ignored this.

      “We must go tonight, Howell! I shall take a hackney to your townhouse and we shall go together. There is a place that Livingston mentioned some weeks ago and I can still recall the name. They frequent the place, I think, and that will be enough as long as one of them sees you.”

      Edward stayed true to his plans and they arrived at the nighttime establishment at eleven, promptly. She knew of places far less luxurious than where the hackney dropped them off – but this would do. Tonight was her turn to tease, simply because the young earl needed to experience, from time to time, the consequences of his exploits.

      She let Edward take the lead, from entering the establishment to walking through its corridors. As they navigated through it, a woman bumped into Alex, and nearly fell forward to the floor. Alex managed to grab the woman’s waist and gently pulled her back to her feet.

      “I’m very sorry, mi’lord. It was truly very careless of me,” the woman said, her cheeks reddening in a color brighter than the paint on her face.

      Alex nodded and tried to smile charmingly – as charmingly as her nature could allow it. “It is of no consequence, miss,” and she bent forward to kiss the woman lightly on the lips. She ended it quickly and gently pushed the woman to prompt her to be on her way.

      She knew how to kiss. She was not as inexperienced as some may think, for living during a period wherein she was forced to familiarize herself with the men of the streets, she had to introduce herself to its women as well.

      Edward’s face was, as expected, slightly agog at the scene the viscount publicly made.

      “That should serve as a lesson for you, Montagu, that assumptions are not necessarily truths,” she smirked.

      “Were you teasing, Howell?” he asked, angrily.

      “Now, now, your lordship! Do not be offended when a joke has been made upon you!”

      It was the earl’s turn to glare at her. “All the while I was thinking of helping you, you insufferable man!” he turned around and marched back towards the entrance.

      “Shall I tell you what that kiss tasted like?” she asked, laughing, as she chased after her friend. She grabbed his arm and he stopped. “Bad lemons!”

      Edward faced her with a small grin on his face. “Howell, you make it impossible for me to stay mad at your misplaced joke when I hear you laugh – and it is very rare. You are enjoying this,” he accused.

      She stopped suddenly, surprised at his words, aware of the cracks of fear that found their way into her heart. Her laughter was never deep enough, though he seemed not to mind or even notice anything odd. Recomposing herself, she smiled a little at her friend and said, “I apologize for making a sport of this, but, Montagu, you must be taught a lesson at times.”

      Feigning a frown, he said, “I suppose.”

      “But I doubt you feel guilty about anything! I only hope you would never doubt me!” she grinned, pushing him outside the establishment. “Let us go! I know of a better place to spend the evening!”

      “I never doubted you, Howell!”

      “Oh? Were you not thinking even an inkling of what the others have been saying?”

      “I was ready to accept you for the man you are,” he said defensively.

      “I would prefer, though, that you would trust my words. You would forgive me, will you not, Montagu, if what you say is true?”

      The earl sighed. “I already have! I would have sooner, if you had given me the task of kissing!”

      “There is nothing good about turning into rakes and women! Stay as the good man you are, Montagu, and fail not to keep your reputation good. But drinks, my friend, and bottles of those – that would bring us more contentment!”