Alexander was lying on the couch when Lillian entered, shielding his eyes so that only his mop of sandy-brown hair was visible. The butler showed her into the sitting room, the same one that they'd played whist in a few evenings ago, but this time there was nobody else there. Not even the butler, after he announced her presence to the supine figure with his arm covering his face. She was entirely alone with another man for the first time in her nineteen years. Lillian froze, her blue eyes cast toward the floor, fighting a sudden urge to flee the room.
"You don't have a chaperone," Alexander said, without uncovering his eyes. He sounded dreadfully exhausted. "You didn't have one the other night, either. Unless you were Bessie's chaperone, in which case her family should doubtlessly sack you for allowing her into my house."
Lillian stammered out a response. "No. I mean-I'm not. Bessie's chaperone, that is. We're friends. She, um, she wanted to come. Not tonight, the other night. She and I slipped away from our companions. She said you were a..." She trailed off. She felt certain that Alexander de Witt was fully aware of his reputation, but it seemed somehow crass to bring it up to his face.
"A frightful libertine?" he interjected. He sat up, removing his arm with a grunt of pain. "Guilty as charged. Although frankly the mornings make the evenings scarcely worth it. I've been up for three hours, and this blasted headache is only now easing up." Lillian tried not to be scandalized. It was already half past six, and Alexander looked as though he was still wearing the previous evening's clothes, but it seemed unfair to take offense at the exact qualities that had led her to choose this visit.
"Um, yes," she said quietly, blushing all the way to her blonde curls. "She said she always wanted to see what a libertine looked like up close."
"She sounds like a daring young girl," Alexander said, reaching for a teapot that sat on the low table next to the couch. He poured himself a cup of strong, hot tea, then splashed a dollop of whiskey in after it. "A regrettably terrible whist partner, perhaps, but definitely bold. But she's not here, and you are. Now why might that be?"
Lillian paused, the words dangling on the edge of her tongue but refusing to let go. After a moment, Alexander looked up at her. "Oh, damn. Where are my manners? Sit down, have a cup of tea. Have some whiskey if you want as well, I really couldn't care less. The one grand thing about having a ruined reputation is that you have very little to lose by behaving exactly as you want."
As if in a dream, Lillian found herself proceeding to the couch across from Alexander. She poured herself a cup of tea with trembling fingers, and waved away his proffered flask. The hot drink steadied her nerves just a touch, and she found the courage to meet Alexander's gaze. He had the strangest eyes-they were hazel, almost green, and despite the bleariness that shot them through with threads of red, they exhibited the most extraordinary piercing quality. Lillian found herself torn between the urge to look away and the urge to keep staring.
She felt oddly disappointed when he broke the stare instead. "So yes, you and your friend Bessie. You gave your chaperones the slip and engaged in a little harmless debauchery by drinking brandy and playing whist in mixed company. The Queen would not approve, of course, but I can only assume that since you aren't here with your mother, we didn't do anything that would require a marriage proposal to maintain your honor. So why are you here?"
Lillian took another swallow of tea, plucking up her courage to speak. "There was a woman. The other evening, I mean. Here at your house."
"Well, yes," Alexander said, favoring her with a devilish grin. "That's rather the other grand thing about having a ruined reputation." He must have seen the look of sudden fear in her eyes, for his expression softened a bit. "Which woman were you thinking of?" he said, a bit more gently.
