Not Proper Enough (A Reforming the Scoundrels Romance) (6 page)

Two men rose as they approached. One of them was Fenris. The older man at his side could only be his father, the Duke of Camber. Her first thought was, no wonder people
held the Duke of Camber in awe. In her mind, she’d pictured someone who looked more like the butler than the unsmiling, youthful man facing her now. The duke was in his early to mid fifties at the very most, with only a touch of gray in his dark hair. He was imposing and, unsmiling though he was, undeniably handsome. Like his son, he was slender, though he was not as tall as Fenris. The resemblance was marked. All in all, they made a formidable pair of gentlemen.

The butler stopped and cleared his throat. “Lady Eugenia Hampton Bryant, Miss Hester Rendell, your grace, milord.”

Lord Fenris took a step or two ahead of his father. He wore fawn breeches, navy blue coattails, and a waistcoat the color of mist. A diamond stickpin sparkled in his cravat. He walked to them, hand outstretched until he took Eugenia’s hand. He kissed the air by her cheek. “Welcome to Bouverie.” Then he whispered just loudly enough for her and Hester to overhear, “Be forewarned. He’s in a cantankerous mood tonight.”

Hester snuck a glance in the duke’s direction. “He’s nothing on
my
father, my lord, I promise you.”

Eugenia’s heart sank to her toes. She fingered the medallion Lily had given her and took comfort from the habit. Lily, she had no doubt, would meet the duke with calm and poise. She hoped to do the same.

When Fenris released her hand, Eugenia curtseyed to him and Hester did the same. He curled a palm around Eugenia’s elbow and then Hester’s, too, and walked them to the duke.

“Camber,” Fenris said, “this is Lady Eugenia. Mrs. Bryant.”

Eugenia curtseyed again, feeling the weight of the duke’s silent gaze on her. “Your grace.”

Fenris brought Hester forward without letting go of Eugenia’s arm. “Allow me as well to present Miss Hester Rendell of the Exeter Rendells. You’ve met her brother, Captain Rendell of the Second Dragoon Guards. He dined here once when he was on leave.”

Hester was, of course, admirably serene, but then her family hadn’t a history of ill will with the current Duke of
Camber. Or the future one, for that matter. The present duke examined Hester from head to toe, and Eugenia swore she could feel him totting up all of her flaws. Plainly, the man did not, as Fenris had, see past her modest looks. Eugenia was prepared to do battle with the duke, if need be, and damn the consequences.

“Captain Rendell is a handsome fellow as I recall.” Camber, like his son, had a gift for putting more than a hint of boredom in his drawl. Such ennui.

“Oh yes, your grace.” Hester smiled, and the duke narrowed his eyes. “Charles is handsome indeed.”

The duke looked her up and down and frowned. No doubt he was used to young women quailing before him. Hester never would. “You don’t look like him.”

“Nor my father much, but for the color of my hair, your grace. It is my great good fortune to look like my mama.” She lifted her chin. “The most excellent woman there ever was.”

Camber firmed his mouth and stood before her, studying her, hands clasped behind his back. All this time Eugenia had thought Fenris the coldest man she’d ever known. Obviously, he’d learned the trick of his freezing gaze from his father. Camber’s attention moved between her and Hester and settled on Eugenia. “You.” He gazed at Eugenia with the same chill. “Robert Bryant’s widow.”

“Yes, your grace.” With Camber’s attention on Eugenia, Hester took a few steps away, drawn first to a painting of a soldier that hung just above eye level. Fenris remained at Eugenia’s side.

“Mountjoy’s your brother.”

“Your grace.”

“Told him I’d speak for his membership at White’s. Fool boy joined Brooks’s. Did it to spite me. Opposes me on nearly every issue.”

“Does he?” Eugenia glanced at Hester. She’d moved closer to the painting and stood with her chin tilted up as she examined it.

“All that talk of reform.” He pointed at Eugenia. “Mark
my word, reform will be the ruin of Britain. I’ll lay the blame at your brother’s feet, and you can tell him that from me.”

“Mountjoy doesn’t talk about politics much when he’s home.”

“I suppose he talks about farming.”

Eugenia kept her smile. “Sometimes we talk about sheep.”

Fenris cupped his hand around her elbow and gently squeezed. “Camber,” he said. “Perhaps it’s best we avoid talk of clubs and politics when there are ladies present.”

The duke nodded and even, she thought, looked just the tiniest bit abashed. “Extraordinary man, your late husband.”

“Yes, your grace.” Her anxiety eased, for this was a subject that was familiar and safe. “He surely was.”

“No one was more surprised than I when Robert up and married you.” He looked her up and down the way he had Hester. Fenris did strongly resemble his father. Both were handsome men, but Eugenia liked the son’s looks better. There was a hint of gentleness about Fenris that his father lacked. “Shocking thing. Very sudden.”

“Perhaps it seemed sudden to you.”

Camber stiffened. “It was so, madam.”

“I don’t deny that it was. To you.” Fenris’s fingers tightened around her elbow. She pulled her arm forward, but he didn’t release her. He was right to have warned her. His father was difficult, and she would wager her last shilling that the duke knew that was his reputation and that he traded on it. As her elder, the duke deserved her respect, and more, because he was Camber. One did not antagonize a duke. Fenris continued to hold her arm as if he didn’t trust her to keep her temper. He was wise to be cautious. “I only know I fell in love the moment we met. To me, an eternity passed before I knew my feelings were returned.”

“He dined here often, your husband did, when he and the boy were younger.”

“So my husband told me.” The duke looked surprised at that revelation. Did he think Robert hadn’t talked to her
about his life, his boyhood, and, even, past friendships? “You’re exactly as he described you to me.”

He looked down his nose at her. “What did he say?”

Fenris pressed her arm again, a gentler warning this time than last. She wanted very much to tell him that she
did
know how to behave.

“That you mean to be intimidating and generally succeed at it.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Hester had left off her perusal of the painting. She was now before a table on which there was an outrageously large vase of flowers. She studied the arrangement with some fascination. “My husband said you were unable to resist his charm, and that he became the only one of your son’s friends to gain your unreserved approval.”

The duke guffawed. “That sounds like Robert. Full of vinegar.” He sent a glower in Fenris’s direction. “Pity he stopped coming to dinner.”

“Yes, Camber.” Fenris’s voice had that smoky edge to it that made Eugenia want to close her eyes and simply listen to him speak. “It was.”

“If only you’d—”

“Your grace?” Hester remained standing before the flowers, none of which Eugenia had any ability to identify.

Camber turned his attention to Hester. She didn’t think it was her imagination that Fenris relaxed. “Miss Rendell.”

“Pray tell me, where did you acquire these?” She indicated the flowers. “These ranunculus are gorgeous. And the peonies. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a peony quite this color.”

“There is a conservatory at Bouverie. They come from there.”

Her eyes widened, and she raised clasped hands beneath her chin, the very picture of amazed excitement. “Oh, do you mean that? I should like to see that. And meet your gardener. If he’s responsible for these lovely blooms. Is he?” She gave the duke a sideways look. “Is it you who cultivates these? In this color?”

Fenris touched a hand to the small of Eugenia’s back.
The contact sent a shiver through her. She could have moved away. She didn’t. No, instead she allowed him to guide her to a chair. He put his mouth by her ear and murmured in a voice of velvet and silk, “Do sit, Mrs. Bryant.”

Meanwhile Camber gave Hester what could only be described as a sly smile. The effect on his appearance was remarkable. The duke’s smile utterly transformed him. “I might dabble.”

“Dabble.” Hester touched one of the larger blooms and looked at Camber from under her lashes. “Unless I am greatly mistaken, this, sir, is
Paeonia suffruticosa.
Am I correct?”

“You are.”

“You could only have obtained this from Kew Gardens. I suppose you know Sir Joseph Banks.” She lifted a hand and stopped Camber’s reply. “Unless, of course, you sent your own men to China. Did you?”

Any moment, Eugenia expected the duke to return to his terrifying oh-so-dignified manner, but it did not happen. Incredible as it seemed, Hester might have actually made a friend of the duke.

“I might have done.” Camber strolled to the table and tapped the flower Hester had said was a ranunculus. “However, it is also true that Sir Joseph is an acquaintance of mine.”

“Confess all, your grace. You’ve been experimenting with grafting, haven’t you?”

“I have.” He touched another of the flowers. “By chance, is your father or brother a gardener?”

“Not in the least, I fear. Have you had any success? I have a theory about grafting, you know. At home, I’ve produced a hybrid rose that gives a most spectacular blossom. It greatly resembles a peony. Alas, my rose lacks the intense scent of its Gallica ancestor.”

“You garden, Miss Rendell?”

“Good God,” Fenris murmured. “She’s ensorcelled him. We’re in for it now. We’ll have no conversation now except about plants.”

“Botany is my passion, your grace.” Hester lifted her
eyebrows, animated in a way Eugenia had never seen from her. “How do you feel about cross-pollination?”

Camber regarded Hester with an assessing gaze. “A strange interest for a young lady.”

“Ask anyone who knows me. I am peculiar. I freely confess it.” Hester pressed a hand over her bosom. “Now. Your opinions on cross-pollination, if you please. I won’t tell anyone. On my immortal soul, I shan’t.” She looked at Eugenia. “Neither will you, Lady Eugenia. Swear you’ll hold close any secret his grace might reveal to us tonight.”

Bemused, Eugenia lifted a hand. “I do so swear.”

“Lord Fenris?”

“I am already sworn to the utmost secrecy, Miss Rendell.”

“Well, your grace? You may speak freely.”

Camber tapped a finger on the tabletop. “I am attempting to cross the herbaceous peony with my tree peony.”

“Never say so.” Hester was so enthralled by the notion that her voice fell to a whisper. Eugenia had a strong suspicion that she had forgotten she and Fenris were here. “Have you had any success?”

“A little.”

Hester’s eyes went wide and her breath hitched. “Never say so. Is it true?”

The duke held out his hand. “Come sit by the fire with me, Miss Rendell, and we’ll see what secrets I may tell you.”

She followed him to the fireplace, talking the entire way. “What success have you had attempting that cross? Oh, and I should like to hear of your progress with your tree peony. It’s thrilling to know someone who has one. I wish I had. Have you seen the one at Kew? I saw an etching.” With an aplomb that was completely careless of Camber’s consequence, Hester sat on the sofa facing the fire, the duke beside her. “But first, will you tell me what you did to produce that color of pink?”

Camber regarded Hester with a critical eye. “It is a closely held secret. I don’t tell just anyone who comes along.”

Fenris put his mouth by Eugenia’s ear. “If you haven’t already guessed, my father is mad about flowers.”

“As is Hester, it seems.”

Camber and Hester were now deep in a conversation featuring such words and phrases as
soil content
,
propagation
, and
breeding true
.

“Did you know about his interest in the subject?” Fenris asked.

“No. Nor hers, either. Her mother or father ought to have warned me, don’t you think? ‘Do not allow her to discuss plants.’ That might have been something to think of telling me.” So immersed were Camber and Hester in their discussion that Eugenia didn’t worry at all about being overheard. “All they said was she doesn’t like cooked carrots. I grant you that’s odd, carrots are a perfectly wonderful vegetable, but a dislike of them is nothing insurmountable. But this?”

“Are there plants you’d like to have in London?” Camber was asking.

“Some orchids Papa obtained for me. He spoils me terribly, I admit it. Cattleya primarily. A phalaenopsis as well. They were very dear, I promise you.” She leaned into the duke, hands on her lap. “I very nearly refused to come to London for fear they’d not get the proper care. I write to Papa every day and ask him if they’re still in good health.”

“And?”

“And.” She sighed. “Papa is not the best correspondent. They were alive a week ago. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Perhaps you’d like to have them sent here? I could find you space in a corner of the conservatory. I’ve had good luck with my phalaenopsis.”

“Would you?” She put a hand on his arm. Eugenia was quite sure Hester had completely forgotten that the man beside her was a duke.

Camber seemed to have forgotten that, too. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Oh.” She gazed at him with shining eyes, and that smile was nothing short of enchanting. Hester was at her best when she was intellectually engaged. “You are magnificent.”

Fenris choked back a laugh, and Eugenia glared at him. “Come now, Ginny. Admit you were thinking exactly what I was.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I hope you’ll say that to me one day. With just such an expression on your face.” He lifted his voice an octave and pretended he was overcome with emotion. Sexual emotion. “
Oh, Fox. You are magnificent.
”

She hit his upper arm with the back of her hand.

“I assure you I am.”

“Stop.”

“I’ll send my gardener with your letter,” Camber said. “He’ll see that your orchids and another specimen or two make it safely to London.”

Hester had yet to look away from the duke. “Thank you, your grace.”

“Write to your brother as well, Miss Rendell. I’ll frank the postage.”