Gavin went to the sideboard and began filling a plate for himself. “Indeed, it seems that the rest of London’s male population has courting Alex well in hand, and so I find that breakfast is what’s left to me.” He cast a sidelong grin at Alex, who was sifting idly through calling cards, pretending not to be moved by his teasing.

And, in truth, it wasn’t his teasing that did move her. That, she was used to. Instead, she was reminded of the previous evening and the whirlwind of confused emotions she had felt around him, Gavin, with whom this kind of verbal sparring was the status quo. By the light of day, she realized, the graceful, looming, discomfiting male was gone, and left was her old friend. His hair was still damp from his morning ablutions and, despite his impeccable waistcoat and breeches and the perfect knot in his cravat, he was back to being his relaxed and casual self.

It seemed that last night was an aberration and all those peculiar thoughts she had had were simply that—peculiar. And past. Thank goodness.

Returning from the food, plate in hand, Gavin paused just behind the chaise where Alex was ensconced. Looking over her shoulder at the cards in her hands, he spoke. “Of course, Lord Douglass sent you an invitation to ride this afternoon. He’s up to his eyelids in gambling debt. You’re not seriously considering accepting, are you?”

The manner in which he spoke, laced with superiority, crawled up Alex’s spine, making her want to defy him even though she was well aware of the Viscount Douglass’s shortcomings. Tamping the fiery response that sprang to her tongue, she offered a graceful shrug and flipped to the next card.

Blackmoor gave a snort of laughter. “Crane? He’s an imbecile. You’d have him for breakfast.”

Alex cast him a sidelong glance and remarked coolly, “Lord Blackmoor, I hadn’t realized that you had taken such an interest in my suitors.”

“I’m simply pointing out that all these flowers are for naught if the likes of Crane and Douglass are your options. There must be some men worthy of consideration in the group, no?”

As Alex opened her mouth to respond, she was interrupted by the duchess. “I must speak with Cook about the menu for the evening meal. Alexandra, you have at least fifteen invitations to ride along the Serpentine this afternoon. I expect you to accept one of them before I return.”

At his sister’s groan, Will laughed. “I wish I could stay and watch your torment, Alex, but I must be off to the War Office.” Turning to Blackmoor, he offered a lopsided grin. “I assume you’ll at least stay until you’ve finished breakfast? Keep track of anything worthy of teasing for me, will you?”

Blackmoor settled back into a nearby settee and extended his legs in front of him, crossing his ankles casually. “Indeed.” Turning a friendly look on Alex, he offered, “Who is next on this unfathomably impressive list of marriageable males?”

Recognizing his sarcasm, Alex rolled her eyes in irritation. “Mother…don’t leave me with him.”

“Actually, I believe that Lord Blackmoor might be the perfect person to help you sort through these offers, Alexandra. He knows enough about the eligible men of the ton to be able to separate the scoundrels from the gems.” Meeting the young man’s eye, the duchess nodded in approval and offered a parting comment as she left the room with Will: “I shall approve the decision upon my return.”

Left alone in the room with Gavin, Alex let out a sigh. “I fear I won’t be able to find a way out of this. How did this even happen? I went out of my way to avoid attracting suitors last night.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gavin leveled Alex with a serious look. “You’ve learned your first lesson, Minx. Men chase that which seems unattainable.”

“No. What I learned was that men are gluttons for punishment. Why ‘chase’ me when they could catch any number of eligible young females from last evening?”

“Silly girl…because chasing you makes for more of a challenge—and more of a reward.”

Alex offered an amused snort. “I assure you, my lord. Considering my feelings about being ‘caught,’ I would provide little, if any, reward.”

While his body remained relaxed, his eyes narrowed on her and his voice deepened as he responded, “On the contrary, Alex. Your resistance to marriage would make the reward of successfully courting you that much sweeter. Turning your desire for spinsterhood into a desire for something else would be quite a coup for any man. Which is why all of these men”—he indicated the room with a lazy wave of his hand—“have thrown their hats in the ring.”

Feeling slightly unnerved by Blackmoor’s words, Alex stood and moved to the sideboard to pour herself a cup of tea. With her back to him, she spoke. “Surely not all men feel that way. After all, Penelope Grayson made her…availability… rather plainly known last night, and you didn’t seem to shy away from it.”

“No, I didn’t.” The response was unapologetic.

“And I suppose you sent flowers to her house this morning, just as all these men did to me?”

“Actually, I didn’t. But if I had, I can’t see that it would matter. Why are you so interested, Alex?”

She turned from the sideboard, stirring her tea. “I find I’m rather fascinated by the whole ordeal, to be frank. Who knew one night at a ball could wreak such romantic havoc on so many men at one time?” Settling herself back on the settee, she resumed reading the stack of cards and invitations that had arrived that morning.