Not Proper Enough (A Reforming the Scoundrels Romance) (36 page)

He carried her to the bed, and when he joined her there, he, too, was in his bare skin. She turned on her side and rested a hand on his upper chest, savoring the peace that came with his company. Eyes closed, she touched him, and he stirred.

She opened her eyes, met the lovely golden brown of his eyes, then, with a smile, looked him over as boldly as he ever looked at her. His body took her breath. Sleek muscled chest from driving and boxing, legs formed by riding, flat
belly. Tight nipples. She kissed one, then the other and smoothed her palm along his torso down to his flank. Such warm skin. She wanted so much to taste him. To hear him moan.

And then. Yes, then, his beautiful cock. She shifted down, fingers curled around him, and he drew a sharp breath when she brought her hand up, then down. She took her time touching him, adoring his body, and eventually, she moved over him and he put his hands to her hips.

“Beautiful, lovely Ginny.” The slide of his cock into her left her breathless. Every nerve in her body was concentrated there. Fenris pushed his pelvis toward her and they began a slow and gentle lovemaking until slow wasn’t enough. She wanted him driving into her the way he liked to do. That mastery of her that stopped her thinking of anything but the two of them. And then, and then, when she’d lost herself, well, then she took control of her pleasure. And his. She wanted to lose her mind that way again. Safe in his arms.

He did bring her peace. And she did lose herself in this.

Lord, he did, and it was wonderful. He moved them so she was on her back with his body over hers, his hand above her shoulders, and he slid into her again, moving with all the untempered passion she needed from him. All the while Fenris whispered that he loved her beyond life, and she listened to those words. She felt them and felt the echo of them as she left the dream for sleep.

The effect of that odd dream lingered at the edges of her mind when Martine brought in her morning chocolate. She took the cup and inhaled the scent. “Thank you.”

“Milady.” She dropped a quick curtsey. “Miss Rendell wishes to know if today you and she might explore the attic.”

“Mm.” She swallowed a mouthful of chocolate. It had been Fenris’s idea that they go through some of the attic trunks here to see if they might find anything they could easily work into costumes. With so many gowns urgently needed to replace what had been ruined in the fire, costumes landed far down on the list of priorities. Remaking something
from the attics of Bouverie was the expedient solution. “Yes, yes, indeed. As soon as we’ve had breakfast.”

Less than an hour later, she and Hester were in the north attic with Martine and two of the footmen. The previous afternoon, Fenris had produced a very long inventory of the several attics in Bouverie and handed it over with a request that anything that looked useless be discarded or sorted out for the housekeeper to decide what might be repaired or donated. It was the least she could do.

The footmen instantly made themselves useful moving furniture to get to the trunks in the back of the space.

The first two trunks contained old linens and moth-eaten blankets. Eugenia had those set aside for the housekeeper to decide what would be given to the ragman. There was an empty garderobe with a broken door, easily fixed by a competent carpenter. She made a note of that, too.

Perhaps an hour later, Eugenia’s list was going on a third page, and fully half the items they’d examined so far were stacked to one side for further disposition. Hester wiped a cobweb off the lid of yet another trunk. “Oh. Lady Eugenia, do come see.”

The trunk she’d just inventoried was full of books and pamphlets from a hundred years ago. She closed the lid and joined Hester. Clothes and linens packed in tissue paper filled the trunk Hester had just opened. She closed the lid and one of the footmen moved it aside for them. In short order they found another two trunks of clothes.

She had the footmen bring the trunks of clothes downstairs to the small parlor where they’d be away from the dust. There, she and Hester sat on the floor before the first trunk. The top garment was a gown from at least fifty years ago. She held it up. One of Fenris’s relatives had worn this. She looked inside the trunk and found that all the required linens and undergarments had been included, from petticoats to gloves, stockings, shift, and even carefully wrapped red-heeled shoes with gold buckles.

Hester reached in and took out several linen chemises,
each one beautifully embroidered with a monogram and the crest of the Dukes of Camber.

As Hester rummaged in the contents again, a flash of blue caught Eugenia’s attention. “What’s that?”

“This?”

“No. The blue there. Underneath.” With Hester’s assistance, she brought out a frock of a medium blue silk. She spread it over her lap and brushed her fingers over the material with its vertical pattern of stripes formed of gray roses and garlands. Not exactly like the gown in her dream, but so eerily similar that she shivered.

Hester leaned in to have a better look. “What a pretty fabric.”

Eugenia held up the material. The hem was soiled in places, and there was a stain on one of the sleeves, but other than those defects the material was in quite good condition. “Yes. Very pretty.”

“Whoever wore that was a healthy woman.” Indeed, the dress would have been worn by a woman much rounder than Eugenia. “That blue would be lovely on you. It’s your color.” Hester fingered the soiled sleeve. “We could add some lace to hide the stain. Perhaps sew on some ribbon?”

She fingered the material. The scent of lavender wafted to her. “Last night I dreamt I wore a dress just like this. With the loveliest lace you can imagine at the sleeves.”

“If you dreamed of it, then you must wear this, Lady Eugenia. There’s no question that you must. And look. What do you think of this?” Hester held up a gown of red and gold stripes. “This will do for me.”

“It is pretty.”

She brought the fabric close to her face. “Red looks well on me, don’t you agree?”

“Yes. It surely does flatter you. Lieutenant Fraser will be sure to admire you.” She waited for Hester to acknowledge that, but she didn’t.

Instead, Hester said, “I can make a matching domino.”

Eugenia tried again. “Or his eldest brother?”

“Who? Oh. Not him.”

“You prefer Lieutenant Fraser?”

“I don’t prefer anyone.”

“At all?”

Hester laid the red and gold gown over her lap and stroked the material. “I’ll be a lovely shepherdess in this.”

“Indeed, Hester.”

“Do you think the duke will recognize me?” Hester glanced away, but not so soon Eugenia didn’t see Hester’s wistful expression.

“I’m sure your costume will be most clever.” She folded the blue gown over her arm and tried to analyze the sudden pinch in her heart. Was it possible Hester had misunderstood Camber’s attentions to her? “Do you want the duke to recognize you?”

“You’ll be so lovely in a costume made from this.” Hester leaned over and stroked the gown Eugenia held. “You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the masquerade.”

“My dear girl.” With a glance to be sure they were alone, she took Hester’s hand. “If something were the matter, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

After a too-long hesitation, Hester nodded.

“And?”

Her mouth turned stubborn. “I won’t marry any of Lord Baring’s sons, and so I told Camber.”

“Camber? Did he attempt to advise you, then?” Hester nodded to that. “What did he say?”

Hester swiped at her cheek.

Eugenia reached for her hand, holding it between hers. “Did you quarrel with him?”

She sat up straight. “First when he told me I ought to marry Lieutenant Fraser. Again when he said I should marry Lord Fenris.”

“Fenris?”

“As if he would. As if I wanted to.” All brisk motions, Hester folded the red and gold gown. “I told him I wouldn’t marry his son for love nor money.” She lifted her eyes, and Eugenia could see her anger and hurt. “Pray don’t take offense, Lady Eugenia. I’ve never been in love before, and I
fear I’m not handling it well. I didn’t think being in love would be so…difficult to endure.”

Eugenia sat back and wondered what she might dare to say. Hester wasn’t the usual sort of young lady, but unrequited love was an unhappy experience. “The duke,” she said carefully, “is considerably older than you.”

“I am aware.” Her mouth firmed. “However, I fail to see why that matters.”

“How much can you have in common with a man so much your elder?”

“Lord Fenris doesn’t care an inch about plants. He’s bored silly ten seconds into any discussion about plant propagation.”

“He has other qualities.” When Hester didn’t say anything in response, she sighed. “Has the duke given you any reason to think he might return your feelings?”

“No. He’s been kind and generous, but nothing more. And, I daresay, tolerant of me.” Hester folded the gown. “I can’t help how I feel, Lady Eugenia. I don’t want Lord Fenris. Or Lord Aigen or anyone related to Lord Baring. He’s not the curmudgeon everyone says, you know.”

“The duke.”

“Yes,” Hester said. She sniffed once and dashed a finger beneath her eye. “I don’t know how I fell in love with him. I didn’t mean to. Did you mean to fall in love with Robert?”

“No. It just happened.”

“For you both.”

Eugenia nodded.

“I’d never even thought about being in love until the day I realized what had happened to me.” She shrugged. “It’s a pity. I do wish he’d stop telling me I am a sweet young woman. I’m not, you know.”

“One day, Hester, someone will love you just as you are.” Eugenia couldn’t help wondering what Fenris would think.

A week later. Bouverie.

F
OX STRAIGHTENED FROM HIS SLOUCH AGAINST THE
wall the moment Eugenia walked into the ballroom. Her costume, a Turkish robe of sorts made of sumptuous blue silk worked with stripes of gray, seemed familiar to him even though he knew he’d never seen her wearing it. She turned to respond to someone’s query of her, and then he remembered why her costume was familiar. From one of his dreams.

At his side, Aigen bestirred himself, too. “That’s Lady Eugenia? In the blue?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her from under lidded eyes. “Well, well, well. A vision, to be sure.”

“Yes.”

“And Miss Rendell, in the stripes?”

“Yes.”

Miss Rendell was dressed as a shepherdess in a gown of sumptuous red and gold stripes. She held a crook in one hand and had arranged her hair high on her head, with garlands of flowers throughout. Aigen was right. Miss Rendell was very pretty.

Fox gestured. Over the blue and gray garment, Eugenia wore a short-waisted jacket of the same fabric but trimmed with wide bands of gold. Pearls and gems, one presumed they were paste, glittered on the jacket. A sash of gray and gold encircled Eugenia’s natural waist. The look, given the present fashion, was shockingly revealing of her figure. Her slippers curled up at the toes, and she wore a gold turban, set back to reveal some of her bright gold hair. Her domino was blue, gold, and gray. She looked delectable.

His father approached the two women, greeted them, and walked them both away from the crowd at the entrance, Eugenia on one arm, Miss Rendell on the other. After all his trying and failing to prove to Eugenia that he was a better man than he had been, he had no more ways to prove himself. He would never succeed with her, and she would never love him. The knowledge hollowed him out.

For the next several minutes it was possible for him to watch Eugenia as his father introduced the women to friends and political cronies, many of them Cabinet ministers and sitting peers. Eventually, though, he joined his father to pay his respects to them and offer to fetch them both a glass of lemonade. Going on three weeks since she’d told him she was late, and not a word one way or another. He lost sight of Eugenia after that, though on one occasion he saw her dancing with Aigen and another time with Lord Baring. Miss Rendell had a constant stream of admirers, including both of Baring’s sons.

Some two hours later, he was standing by one of the exits in no better mood than before. He’d tried ignoring Eugenia, but that was no good. He always knew when she was near, and if he scanned the crowd for any reason, he always ended up hoping for a glimpse of her. She’d become a habit with him.

He watched her emerge from the crowd and head his direction. He could have moved. Walked away. He didn’t.

White chalk from the ballroom floor dusted the underside of her curled-toe slippers. She didn’t see him at first, but when she did, she halted, expression uncertain. He waited
to see whether she would speak to him or move on. Her cheeks were flushed with color, and he supposed she’d been dancing, since a set had just ended. Just when he thought she would move on without acknowledging him, she gave him a brilliant smile. Appalling what a smile from her did for his mood.

“Is that you, Lord Fenris?”

He gave her an elaborate bow. He was dressed as a cavalier, in boots, spurs, cape, and loose-fitting trousers. He’d elected to leave off a wig to emulate the then fashion for long curls. Other than that, his costume was as accurate as any other here. “At your service, fair maiden.”