As Camber had intimated earlier, the early fog had dissipated and turned a gloomy morning into a pleasant day. There was enough sun to counteract the chill of the wind as they drove toward Rotten Row. It wasn’t long before the traffic slowed them considerably. The landau, in all its glossy red and gold, worked into the line of carriages. This proved easier than one might imagine since a duke, it turned out, took precedence in traffic, too.
Hester and Camber at last put away their notebooks, and to Eugenia’s delight, Hester waved to an acquaintance. Eugenia confined herself to sedate nods as befit her status as a matronly chaperone. No one, but no one, would guess she’d brought the Marquess of Fenris to orgasm. That was her private secret.
There were, naturally, many greetings to Camber and Fenris. Endless greetings, actually. The landau didn’t advance more than three or four yards without someone hailing one or both of the men. It seemed to Eugenia that half the members of the current Cabinet paid Fenris and Camber their respects. There were women, too. Innumerable women, most of them strikingly beautiful or handsome. The Duke of Camber and his son were both vital, handsome men. Indeed, one could hardly forget that fact, what with all the languishing looks and bold flirtations that flew the way of the two men. Fenris accepted all that as his due, while Camber, when he noticed, acknowledged nothing.
Hester and the duke returned to their notebooks, oblivious to the surroundings. “You’ve drawn a quite accurate leaf, your grace. Remarkable.” She looked into the duke’s face, a plain woman, no one could say otherwise, and yet so earnest and animated by her shared passion with Camber that she was transformed. Where on earth were all the suitable young gentleman botanists? “What would you say to coloring them? Watercolors would do, I think, don’t you? I ought to have thought of that before now.”
“Watercolors.” Camber nodded. The light emphasized the strong resemblance between father and son. No wonder so many women fluttered their eyes at the duke. “Yes. Yes, quite so. An excellent idea, Miss Rendell. Have I told you about my attempt to breed a yellow rose?”
“No, but I should love to hear. Have you had any success?”
Eugenia groaned, and Fenris reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. She risked a look at him and was encouraged to find no trace of smug self-possession on his face. If anything, he looked amused by his father.
She leaned toward him, their shoulders just touching. “Her mother will want to know who’s paid attention to her.” She had touched his body, she’d watched him spend, seen, heard, and tasted him, and there was in her a longing to feel that again, the response of her body to a man she found physically beautiful. “She’ll want to know with whom she’s danced, the balls and routs and fetes I’ve taken her to. What, she will ask me, has my daughter done while she is in London, costing our family a small fortune? And I shall be forced to tell her about the dirt. I shall have to tell her that I may not be able to prevent her from living in the conservatory at Bouverie.”
“You might,” Fenris said, “mention only that the Duke of Camber and his son accompanied you to Hyde Park.”
“And when she returns home with nothing but tales of her adventures with violets and a dozen notebooks of test results?”
“There will by then be watercolors. A very ladylike accomplishment.” His hand remained curled around hers. “I recommend that in your next letter you boast of her artistry.”
“A delay of the inevitable. Eventually Mrs. Rendell will learn how badly I’ve failed with Hester.”
“Miss Rendell is not without admirers.” Fenris glanced at Hester, and Eugenia took in the line of his jaw and the curve of his mouth, and she had never been so viscerally aware that any man was so thoroughly male to her female. “Surely that has not escaped your notice?”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes.”
At that moment, Hester looked away from the notebooks to wave at Miss Smith, riding a bay mare and looking very smart in a blue riding habit and a tall cap with a ribbon that tied at her jaw. Miss Smith lifted her crop in greeting. No gentleman could fail to note her figure, and the color in her cheeks was quite appealing. Hester’s figure was far better than Miss Smith’s.
“Hester?” Eugenia said.
“Yes?”
“Do you ride?”
“I do.”
Eugenia beamed at her. “Then we ought to go riding here one day. What do you say to that?”
“I haven’t a horse.”
She would not fail Hester. By whatever means necessary, Eugenia was determined to put Hester in the company of a gentleman who was worthy of her. “Neither have I, but we can hire them.”
Camber snorted. “Hire a horse? My dear Miss Rendell, I think not. You’ll ride something from our stables. The boy will manage it.”
Fenris nodded. “Certainly, Camber.”
“Well, then.” Eugenia lifted a hand and was shocked to discover Fenris still held her fingers. How odd that she would have forgotten and that it felt so comfortable to have him do so. She allowed her arm to drift back to her lap and hoped no one had noticed. “Thank you, your grace. That’s very kind of you.”
Hester gave a careless shrug. “Exercise is always beneficial. But I warn you, I’m a poor horsewoman.”
“Hard to believe that.” Camber patted Hester’s shoulder. “You’re such a capable girl.”
“Oh, it’s true. I’ve fallen off six horses. Charles says I ought never to ride a horse younger than twenty years. Lord Fenris, have you a twenty-year-old nag?”
“Not in London. But I’ll see what can be managed.”
Hester leaned over the side of the carriage and clapped a hand on her bonnet when the growing breeze threatened to dislodge it. “Miss Smith.” She waved at the other woman. Camber’s attention followed her. “Good afternoon. Lady Eugenia says we ought to ride in Hyde Park one of these days. If I do, I should very much like a whip like yours. Will you send me the name of the shop where you acquired it?”
This was duly agreed to, after which Hester sat back and Eugenia enjoyed all of thirty seconds with the belief that she’d managed a miracle in getting Hester to think of anything to do with society and finding a husband.
Still with her hand on her bonnet, Hester grinned. “Your grace, did you notice the tassel on the end of Miss Smith’s riding whip?”
“I fear not, my dear.”
“It was green.” She leaned against the seat, and Eugenia thought she looked very well in her citrine gown. The long end of the ribbon of her bonnet flapped in the now brisk wind. “The exact green of the leaves of your violets this morning. I think it would be useful for me to have a great many things that are green. For the sake of comparison, you understand.”
A gust of wind blew through the park, cold and quite strong. The poorly tied bow of Hester’s bonnet came undone, and the entire thing went sailing into the air, ribbons fluttering. This event did not go unnoticed. At least a dozen of the gentlemen on horseback whooped as the wind whisked Hester’s bonnet higher into the air. They raced after the bonnet, which continued to swoop and dip like some sort of demented, airborne ship. Those not in pursuit laid wagers on who would capture it.
Lord Aigen turned out to be the victor in the bonnet race. He brought back the hat, accepting all the accolades due him in the form of congratulations and hearty slaps on the back. Before he turned it over to Hester, he did his best to reattach the silk roses dangling off the side. While he did this, money changed hands among the spectators. At least once, a breeze threatened to send Hester’s bonnet on another sailing adventure. All the ladies were either resecuring their own hats and bonnets or holding them down until they could be refastened.
Eugenia put a gloved hand on the carriage door, and called to him. “Congratulations, Lord Aigen. Excellent riding, sir.” Which, indeed, it had been. He’d used his height to advantage in nearly standing up in the saddle to snatch the bonnet from the air.
Aigen urged his horse toward the landau. The men exchanged greetings,
and only then did Aigen extend the bonnet to Hester. “I take it this is yours?”
“Yes. Thank you, my lord.” Hester stretched out a hand for her bonnet, but Aigen wasn’t yet close enough for her to take it from him. His eyes took in Hester’s bosom.
Aigen smoothed his free hand along his chest, apparently not realizing he was crushing Hester’s bonnet with the other, and shifted his gaze to Eugenia. “Lady Eugenia. You’re a sight for this Scotsman’s eyes.”
Hester wriggled her fingers but got Aigen’s attention only when she leaned farther over the side of the landau. The man stared, once again transfixed by her bosom, which, owing to her leaning so deeply toward him was rather more on display than was best for anyone. “My bonnet, sir?”
Aigen pressed his hand to his heart and, to his credit, lifted his eyes to Hester’s face. He used his thighs to move his horse even with the landau. Whatever one might wish to say about his fascination with Hester’s bosom, one could not fault his riding. “Ah yes, Miss Rendell. Your wayward bonnet. Sailing away to foreign parts. Rescued now, by my own hand.” He waved the bonnet.
Eugenia laughed. “Thank you, Lord Aigen.”
“I am moved, my dear ladies, to compose an extempore poem in honor of your beauty.”
Fenris dropped his head to hide a groan. Camber glared.
“Go on,” Hester said. “I should like to hear you. I enjoy poetry.”
Aigen threw out a hand. The one with the bonnet. The ribbons snapped in the breeze. “To the fair Lady Eugenia and Miss Rendell, whose only faults are that you are not Scots.”
“Only one?” Hester laughed. “I am relieved.”
He winked at her. “You are a star for which…” His Scots accent thickened, and it was actually rather charming. The landau moved forward, and when Aigen caught up, he again put a hand over his heart. He cleared his throat and gazed at her and Hester. “…a star for which the sky cries—er…weeps at its loss.”
Fenris snorted and earned a gimlet stare from Aigen. Hester giggled.
She couldn’t blame Fenris for that because, well, the verse was perfectly dreadful. But she nevertheless gave him a surreptitious push. If Aigen amused Hester, that ought to be encouraged. She couldn’t think of another man Hester had found amusing. Lord Aigen, come to think of it, was precisely the sort of man she hoped Hester would fall in love with. Handsome, intelligent, and in possession of a title. He could hardly be more perfect. She beamed at the man.
“A tear of silver dropped o’er the velvet linens of the firmament.”
“What the deuce is he babbling about?” Camber scowled. “Velvet what?”
Hester, of course, listened with perfect sincerity.
Aigen was undeterred by Camber’s scornful gaze. Nor by the glare sent his way by Fenris. His speech was now so thick with the Highlands he was nearly impossible to understand. “Soft to earth, to take its place among men and moss. She walks now among us. Oh, beauteous star with amber’d scent.”
At least, that’s what it sounded like. Those last few words might actually have been Gaelic.
Eugenia laughed in delight. “Thank you, my lord. That was lovely.”
Hester clapped her hands. “Bravo, my lord. Bravo!” She put her other hand on the top of the carriage door. Aigen’s gaze dropped again, then guiltily lifted. “I very much like the notion of being a beauteous star. Well done, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Rendell.” Briefly, he made cow’s eyes at her bosom again. “Stargazing is my newest passion.”
Fenris murmured, “There once was a lady from Perth—”
Eugenia kicked the side of his boot. Fortunately, they were saved from more poetry because the landau moved forward again and the sheer number of vehicles made it too dangerous for a man on horseback to come close.
“Well.” Hester sat back. “I rather liked his poem, didn’t you, Lady Eugenia?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I should have liked to have my bonnet returned, though.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Camber said.
“Thank you.” She gave the duke a smile. “That’s very sweet of you. But not necessary.”
If only, Eugenia thought, Hester would smile like that at eligible gentlemen.
Fenris coughed once. “Eventually, Miss Rendell, he’ll recall the need. If he doesn’t, why, then, I’ll remind him he’s no need for a bonnet.”
“Thank you, sir.” Hester looked behind them, staring after Lord Aigen. “I only hope he doesn’t lose it.” She turned around. “Is he a careless sort of man, your friend?”
“Not very.” Fenris spoke just on the edge of curtness. “I’ll speak with him and make sure he returns your bonnet.” Then he dipped his head and said, with a rather deft imitation of Aigen’s burr, “Oh, beauteous star.”
“You are too kind, sir.”
Camber snorted, and then he and Hester were back to talking about plants.
Eugenia peeked at Fenris from under her lashes. “A lady from Perth?”
He was all innocence as he murmured, “She had a regrettable birth—Ouch.”
She removed her foot from Fenris’s toe and met his stare. The edge of his mouth twitched. “The weather is fine, don’t you agree, my lord?”
“Quite,” Fenris replied. “If one has the proper footwear.”
They were next hailed by Lady Tyghe, riding in a gleaming black phaeton driven by Lord Baring. “Good afternoon.” She nodded gracefully to them. “How lovely to see you out and about, your grace.” Camber returned her nod. “My dear Fenris. Oh, do stop, Baring. I shan’t fall.” Lord Baring kept his arm around Lady Tyghe’s waist. “Several of us thought we’d leave this crush and walk for a while.” She glanced at each of them in turn. “Would you care to join us? It would be so lovely if you did.”
This was quickly agreed to. Lady Tyghe sat back and gazed at Fenris with a secretive smile that sent a shock of awareness through Eugenia.
Fenris and Lady Tyghe were lovers.
Chapter Nine
BLAST. BLOODY, BLOODY BLAST.
Fox continued in his annoyance when Sarah’s too-intimate smile broadened to include his father. Eugenia had noticed and had drawn all the correct and appropriate conclusions about the nature of his relationship with Sarah. He unbuttoned his greatcoat, put out at Sarah’s social clumsiness. But then, he suspected she’d not been clumsy at all.
She was beautiful. Beautiful still. He had, for a short while during their affair, been convinced he was in love with her. He’d made a young man’s mistake of confusing sexual compatibility for a deeper emotion. Thank God she had not been in love with him, or they’d have ruined both their lives. He’d proposed to her, a green boy, to a widow six years his elder. Twice on bended knee. He had in the years since found himself grateful to her for refusing him. They did not suit. She’d known it, and had been as gentle with him as she could.
Over the years, they’d resumed a friendship that from time to time involved intimacy of the physical sort. Their last such encounter had been over a year ago. He was beyond irritated that she’d had the bad form to behave as she had just now. If she meant to make Lord Baring jealous, she was about to discover he would not accommodate her.
Eugenia sat stiff as a board with a smile pasted on her face that did not fool him for a moment. Even if she hadn’t tugged her hand free from his, he’d have known she was hurt. Jealous? God, if that was all, he’d count himself lucky, for that was something he could remedy between them. But if she had concluded his past with a woman who behaved as badly as Sarah just had was a reflection on his character? That would be much, much harder to overcome.
Whatever was happening between him and Eugenia was too new for him to fully understand. Too new to name. Far, far too fragile. They were barely friends and not yet lovers. If Sarah had just spoiled all that for him, she would find him an unforgiving sort.
Fox, like Eugenia, retreated into a facsimile of nonchalance when in reality he was angry and bothered and anxious. This might
well have set him back an incalculable amount, for up to this point, discounting certain events at Bouverie, which, to his mind, had been unexpected, magnificent, and disastrous all at once, he’d been doing quite well with Eugenia. He had worked hard to prove he had changed. He wasn’t her enemy. And now? Sarah, blast her, had just exploded all his efforts into dust, and he wanted to shout his frustration to the heavens.
The coachman directed the landau out of the line of carriages and headed the vehicle away from the most crowded portion of the park. They turned down the side road where Lady Tyghe had told them her party would be waiting. Fox tapped on the back of the driver’s seat. What he must do was continue as he had, as if nothing at all had changed. Eugenia would eventually realize he was not responsible for Sarah’s behavior. “This will do.”
The driver brought the landau to the curb. Fox reached over and opened the door almost before they’d stopped and certainly before the groom had jumped down from the back. He pushed down the step himself and stood on the walk with a hand extended. Camber put a hand to the back of Eugenia’s elbow as she rose and placed her hand on Fox’s.
Not since he was a boy had he waited with such awful tension to see what a woman would do. Join someone else? Hang back and allow him to escort her? Ignore him entirely? That last, unfortunately, and just as crushing now as when he was a boy scorned by the object of his affections.
As Eugenia stepped down, she lifted her hand to shade her face against the sun. Fox resisted the urge to look. He already knew Sarah and the others were a few yards down the path, and that Aigen, the bloody bonnet rescuer, was among them. Eugenia walked a short distance from the landau. He steeled himself to calm while he assisted Miss Rendell from the carriage, too. She caught her foot in the hem of her gown on the step to the curb, and, had he not still had her hand, she might well have pitched headlong to the ground. God help him, he wanted to turn around and see if Eugenia appreciated his rescue of Miss Rendell. He didn’t dare.
Not Proper Enough (A Reforming the Scoundrels Romance) Page 9
