How the Girl got the Earl (Courting Kisses and Chaos #1)

Chapter 1

Lady Alexandra Peregrine did not run—ladies did not run—but she certainly wasn’t strolling.

Her muslin skirts were hitched high, her chin tilted in defiance, and her hazel eyes sparkled with the unmistakable glint of mischief.

If one were to observe her, one might reasonably suspect she was fleeing something. Or, more precisely, someone.

Lord Cedric Hargrove.

The man was a walking yawn, with a penchant for discussing crop rotations—most recently, he had waxed poetic about the improved bounty of turnips when grown in proximity to cabbages—and a nasal voice that grated like poorly tuned violin strings.

Worse still, he had cornered her near the lemonade table and launched into a lengthy explanation of his future estate improvements.

Alexandra had nodded politely for nearly five minutes before deciding she would rather face a horde of matchmaking mamas than endure one more moment of his courtship.

Which was how she now found herself weaving through the elaborately trimmed hedges of Lord and Lady Ashworth's infamous spring garden maze.

"If I die in this blasted labyrinth," she muttered under her breath, brushing a leaf from her sleeve, "I hope someone tells my father it was Cedric's fault."

"And what a tragedy that would be," drawled a voice behind her, rich with amusement and a hint of something she could not quite place—danger, perhaps.

Alexandra spun on her heel and promptly collided with a broad, solid chest. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs and sent her stumbling back. She might have regained her balance if the gentleman had not also taken a step forward, resulting in a rather dramatic tangle of limbs and gravity.

They landed with a most undignified thud into a bed of spring tulips, a sudden hush falling over the moment.

Alexandra’s breath caught as she registered the surprising warmth of the man beneath her, the spicy scent of him mingling with crushed petals and earth.

Her pulse gave an unwelcome flutter, and for a fraction of a second, she was acutely aware of how close they were.

It was merely the tumble, nothing more. Certainly not interest. Heavens, no.

Then annoyance surged to the surface, swift and blessedly familiar.

"Oof," the man said, blinking up at the sky.

Alexandra, sprawled inelegantly atop him, shoved herself upright with as much dignity as she could manage. Her bonnet was askew, a tulip petal clung to her hair, and she was fairly certain she had crushed at least half the flowerbed beneath them.

"You absolute menace," she declared, breath still shallow as she brushed back a curl that had come loose in the fall, glaring down at the man.

He lifted a brow—and blast it, why did he have to have such absurdly handsome features? Black hair tousled to perfection, a rakish smirk playing at his lips, and eyes the shade of emerald sin. It was entirely unfair.

"I beg your pardon," he said, unrepentant. "But I believe it was you who came barreling around that corner like a startled deer."

"I was escaping."

"A duel? Highwaymen? An overzealous horticulturist?"

She narrowed her eyes, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve as if banishing the very thought of him. "Lord Cedric Hargrove," she muttered, with all the venom of a curse.

"Ah." The stranger nodded sagely. "That is a justifiable reason to flee."

Before she could retort, a soft giggle came from behind the hedge. Alexandra craned her neck and spotted Lady Louisa Pembroke, her best friend, peering around the leafy corner with unmistakable delight.

"Well," Louisa called cheerfully, "this looks promising."

From another direction came a lazy voice, distinctly male and laced with amusement. "Langley, are you seducing debutantes in flowerbeds now? Even for you, that's rather audacious."

Alexandra stiffened. Langley? As in Magnus Berkshire, the Earl of Langley—the very man her sisters had warned her about in hushed tones and scandalized whispers? That roguish charmer with a reputation longer than the Thames?

She pushed off him at once. "You’re him?"

He sat up, brushing tulip petals from his lapel. "I do hope that wasn’t a tone of disappointment."

Alexandra took a sharp step back and crossed her arms, as though forming a shield of propriety around herself. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes—recognition, perhaps, or curiosity—and it rattled her more than she cared to admit. "More like horror."

Langley laughed. Actually laughed. A deep, rich sound that vibrated through the ruined flowerbed.

Alexandra stood, smoothing her skirts with sharp, agitated movements. She tilted her chin a fraction higher, as if dignity could be re-buttoned like a loose cuff. "Well, that’s quite enough humiliation for one afternoon," she muttered under her breath. "You might have warned me."

"That I was devastatingly handsome? I’m told it’s more fun as a surprise."

Alexandra rolled her eyes, though an unwelcome flush crept up her neck. The man was insufferable—and annoyingly correct.

"That you were Langley," she snapped.

"Ah, well. You didn’t give me the chance. You were too busy flinging yourself into my arms."

"I did no such thing."

"You positively launched, my lady."

Lady Louisa emerged fully now, her expression one of gleeful observation. "You did rather launch, Alex."

Alexandra glared at her friend. "Traitor."

Louisa responded with an exaggerated curtsey and a mischievous wink. "What are best friends for, if not to bear witness to your most dramatic entrances?" She plucked a petal from Alexandra’s sleeve. "I shall treasure the memory forever."

Alexandra pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh that bubbled up unbidden. It would be so easy to join in the amusement, to pretend it hadn’t meant anything. And that, she feared, was the most dangerous part of all.

From the opposite direction, Langley's companion strolled into view. He was blond, lean, and looked like he hadn’t a care in the world.

"Viscount Redford," he said with an elegant bow. "And may I say, that was the most entertaining encounter I have witnessed all season."

"It was not a meet-cute," Alexandra said, horrified.

Langley rose slowly, languidly, and offered a smirk that belonged in a scandal sheet. Alexandra hated how it made her stomach flip—infuriating proof that charm, even when unwanted, could still land its mark. "It rather was, though."

She huffed and turned on her heel. "Well, if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you to your tulips and inflated egos."

Langley’s gaze followed her retreating figure, lips twitching as he took in the sway of her skirts and the fire in her step. There was something about the way she moved—unapologetic, untamed—that tugged at something buried deep, a place long resigned to boredom and predictability. Trouble, indeed.

"Leaving so soon? But we were just getting acquainted,” he called after her.

She didn’t look back. "Precisely why I’m leaving."

As she disappeared around the hedge, Louisa at her heels, she heard Redford mutter, ”She is going to be trouble, isn’t she?"

Langley's answer came with a chuckle. "Delightfully so."

"You do realize," Louisa said as they navigated the maze's exit, "that you have just made a mortal enemy."

"I hope not. I'd prefer to never see him again."

"Don’t be absurd. Lord Langley never lets go of an interesting distraction."

Alexandra crossed her arms, huffing as she turned her face toward the maze’s exit. A sharper reply danced on the tip of her tongue—clever, cutting—but it slipped away, lost in the flurry of emotions she didn’t care to name. "I am not a distraction."

Louisa gave her a look. "Darling, you landed in his lap in a bed of tulips. And don't pretend you’ve forgotten how his arm wrapped around your waist, or the way the tulips smelled when you were practically nose-deep in them. You are the distraction."

Alexandra scowled. "He’s exactly the sort of man I avoid. Too smooth. Too charming. Too convinced that the world was created solely for his amusement."

"Tall? Broad-shouldered? Wickedly attractive?” Louisa grinned with mischief.

“Untrustworthy,” Alexandra said, her tone dry.

Louisa sighed dreamily. "Even so, that was the most excitement we’ve had all spring. And I’m including the incident with the goose and Lord Winthrop’s toupee."

"That says more about the dullness of the Season than the quality of that man."

"Oh, Alexandra. You can protest all you want, but I know that look in your eye. You’re intrigued."

"I am infuriated."

Louisa only smiled.

"You look like a cat who's just been offered a dish of double cream," James, Lord Redford, said, tossing a pebble at Magnus as they found seats near the rose-covered pergola.

Magnus leaned back, smug. "She is unlike anyone I have ever met."

"Yes, she possesses a working mind and an aversion to your charm. Must be a novelty."

Magnus clutched his chest in mock offense, gasping dramatically. "Wounded, truly. By my own closest friend."

Magnus grinned. "I do so love a challenge."

James gave him a dry look, then leaned forward slightly, his tone more serious than before. "Don’t toy with this one."

"Who says I will?” Magnus arched a questioning brow.

"You always do."

Magnus fell quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the garden as if she might reappear at any moment. "She didn’t swoon, you know. Not once."

"Yes, and you adored it."

"She’s refreshing,” he said.

"She’s dangerous,” James countered.

Magnus looked toward the hedge maze where she had vanished, a slow smile curving his lips.

He’d expected another simpering miss—but she was all sharp edges and fire.

There had been something disarming in her eyes, a refusal to be charmed, that scraped against the polished mask he wore.

Being truly seen—without flattery, without pretense—felt oddly like exposure.

And he wasn't sure if he hated it or craved more. The memory of her glare lingered, and for the first time in a long while, he wondered what it might feel like to be truly seen by someone who didn’t already think they knew him. "All the best women are.”

Alexandra sat in her family’s open carriage on the journey back to Grosvenor Square, her forehead resting lightly against the window frame as she watched the tidy streets of Mayfair blur past in a wash of spring green and pale sunshine, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

"You’re brooding," Louisa said, bumping Alexandra’s shoulder lightly with her own. "Don’t deny it."

"I am reflecting."

"On the way his eyes sparkled when he smirked at you?"

"On how best to avoid ever seeing him again,” Alexandra said.

"Which means you will see him again.” Louisa gave a satisfied smirk.

Alexandra exhaled sharply, pulling her bonnet off and letting the breeze lift tendrils of her hair. A tightness lingered in her chest, a dull ache of frustration she couldn’t quite name. "Men like him are dangerous. They make women forget their senses."

"And maybe, sometimes, that’s not such a bad thing."

Alexandra turned to her friend, lips twitching despite herself. "You are the worst influence." Her smile faltered for a breath. "And the only person who might actually understand why surrendering control—even just a little—terrifies me."

"And yet, you adore me,” Louisa said.

Alexandra sighed. "Only because I haven’t found a suitable replacement.

" Though sometimes, in quieter moments like this, she wondered if she pushed people away too easily—if the armor she wore to keep others out had become a little too comfortable.

She had learned early that attention, especially the flattering kind, often came with strings—or expectations she had no intention of fulfilling.

She glanced out the window as the carriage rolled on through the streets of Mayfair, the scent of spring thick in the air.

Somewhere, Lord Langley, was probably smiling that infuriating smile.

She told herself he was irrelevant, unworthy of another thought.

And yet, his face kept drifting back into her mind, unbidden and annoyingly vivid.

She could feel it in her bones—a maddening certainty that no matter how fiercely she tried to banish him from her thoughts, the rogue was going to be impossible to forget.

And Alexandra, for all her protests, knew one thing for certain: This spring would not be nearly as dull as she’d planned.