Not Proper Enough (A Reforming the Scoundrels Romance)

by Carolyn Jewel

“My lord.” She put her hands on her hips. Just so, she was released from the past. She wasn’t that girl anymore, and after all this time, who cared what Fenris had thought of her then? She’d met the man she loved, and had the great good fortune to have him love her back. She’d married him, and Robert had taught her to love herself better because he loved her. Fenris had only the power she gave him, and she chose to give him none. “Let us agree that you need not attempt to flatter me. We both know you are not sincere in it.”

  He bowed, and there was more than a hint of the infamous Fenris disdain in the motion. “As magnanimous as you are lovely.”

  “Do you trot out such double-edged tripe whenever you are compelled to make conversation with a woman as mentally inadequate as I am?”

  His scowl reappeared, and she took a rather vicious satisfaction in it. Robert would disapprove of that, but no one was perfect. Not her. Not Robert. And certainly not Fenris. “No, Mrs. Bryant, I do not trot out double-edged tripe. It wasn’t that, by the by.”

  She snorted.

  “Nor do I find you inadequate in any way. Quite the opposite.”

  “Insupportable.” She paced the far side of the room and glared at him while she did. She might have put their past behind her, but not, after all, all of her resentment. “Death by a thousand cuts. Contrary to all that you believe, I am quite capable of discerning an insult when one is leveled at me. Even exceedingly clever ones. Tell me, my lord, have you a list of such things to say? Memorized for moments such as this?”

  “An entire novel of them.”

  “Have you?” She watched him while she paced. He watched her with an expression that spoke volumes of his irritation. She liked that she’d discomfited him. “Pray tell me another, sir.”

  “The shape of your mouth puts me in mind of Titian’s Salome.”

  She stopped pacing. “My mouth reminds you of a Venetian courtesan?”

  His fingers tightened on his riding whip. Obviously, he hadn’t expected her to know that about Titian’s model. “I misspoke. I meant to say the world changes for the better when you smile.”

  She laughed at him again. “You don’t say those things to other women, I hope. Lord, don’t say them to Hester. She’ll think you addlepated.”

  “I’ll say them only to you.” The man was a monument to sangfroid.

  “Oh, please.” She threw herself onto a chair and leaned one elbow on the arm. She was at a loss. How on earth had things between them so rapidly degenerated into trading cuts? And why, oh why, was it so amusing to trade them? “Let’s not insult each other if we can help it. Inevitably, I’ll win, and I know how you hate to lose.”

  “Very well.” Fenris glanced at a chair, and she took a perverse delight in not noticing and even more in not inviting him to sit. He looked at her gravely. “Having disposed of my primary aim in calling on you, I wish also to thank you for your support of me the other night. Against Mr. Lane.”

  She remained slouched on her chair. Was it possible he’d changed? Become a better man than he’d been? The not very admirable part of her hoped he hadn’t. She did not wish to forgive him. “Did you expect me to lie?”

  “No.” He shifted the position of his hat. “However, I would not have been surprised if you’d been silent.”

  “Is that different from a lie?” Oh, damn. Was he going to mend things between them with an honest apology?

  He let out a short breath. “Perhaps not enough to make a difference.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “It kills you, doesn’t it, to find yourself beholden to me on account of Miss Rendell?”

  “No, it does not.” She waved a hand, then caught his eye and saw his amusement. “Oh, all right. Yes. It does.”

  His smile was appallingly triumphant.

  She pointed at him. “This very moment thousands of lobsters are crawling out of the sea to exact retribution from you.”

  His smile became a grin, and that did something to her, seeing that change of his expression. “I will apologize the next time my chef serves me one.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “With luck he’ll plan that menu too late to save you from death by lobster pinches.”

  Fenris held her gaze. Was there something on her face? A stain on her frock? Did her shoes not match her gown as well as she’d thought when she dressed this morning? He must be offended by her careless manner of sitting. Her back was not straight, and her feet were not placed just so. Doubtless he was totting up all the ways in which she fell short of his idea of a proper lady. Doubtless, he was mentally calling her blowsy.

  The quiet continued. She hoped he drowned in it. But, Lord in heaven, he was handsome.

  “Mrs. Bryant…” He quite visibly struggled with some thought. “Ginny…”

  How fascinating that he should be at a loss for words. “My lord?”

  “I—”

  Hester came in, fussing with the skirts of a frock of seamist green that had got wound up in her legs. She nearly tripped but saved herself with a hand to the table between Fenris and the door.

  “Miss Rendell.” He bowed and took the hand she extended to him. “How lovely to see you.”

  Hester curtseyed and, with the same coolness as ever, said, “My lord.” She withdrew her hand from his and walked to Eugenia. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Lady Eugenia.”

  “Not at all,” she said.

  Hester took a seat and kicked at the hem of the skirt until it was disentangled. “Do sit down, my lord. I’m afraid Lady Eugenia and I have an engagement this morning, but we should be pleased to spend a few moments with you.”

  “Thank you.” With a graceful sweep of his coattails, he took a seat near Hester. His clothes remained perfectly aligned. “Where are you ladies engaged for this evening?” He set his hat and whip on his lap. “Lady Edmon’s ball, perhaps?”

  “No, my lord.” Eugenia gave silent thanks that she had not accepted that invitation.

  Fenris’s eyebrows shot up. “No?”

  “Hester did not arrive in Town in time for us to be prepared for an outing such as that.”

  “We have calls to make this afternoon, and we’re to meet Miss Orpington at the British Museum.” Hester smiled. “An afternoon to which I am very much looking forward.”

  “You have a full social calendar, I’m told.”

  Hester cocked her head, and it was a twin to the way Fenris did. Before Eugenia could interrupt, Hester brought down disaster. “Not at all. In fact, I don’t believe we’re engaged anywhere tonight.”

  Fenris looked unaccountably smug. Why? Because he’d caught her in a lie? Or because she and Hester were to spend a quiet evening at home? “Camber complains he is bored.” He smiled at Hester. “Since you ladies are not otherwise engaged tonight, I hope you and Mrs. Bryant will agree to dine with us at Bouverie and so explode my father’s expectation of a night of tedium.”

  There was a moment of profound silence.

  “Well…” Hester smiled with just the edge of her mouth. “Lady Eugenia and I were talking just the other day about how lovely it is to spend a quiet evening at home. Or at the home—”

  “Yes,” Eugenia said. “A quiet evening—”

  “—of friends such as you.”

  “Hester, dear—”

  “You did say that. And Lord Fenris is a friend.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Then Hester threw her to the wolves. Or, rather specifically, to the wolf sitting across from her. “Lord Fenris, I know Lady Eugenia would love to see Bouverie.”

  Chapter Four

  Bouverie, London residence of the Duke of Camber.

  “HESTER. THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR skirt.” Eugenia put a hand on Hester’s shoulder while they climbed the stairs behind a white-haired and very proper butler.

  “What?” Hester turned to look. “I’m sure not.”

  “Slow down. Let me look.”

  Hester swiped at the back of her gown and managed to get the upper po
rtion of the satin ribbon meant to flow down her back twisted wrong side out. She missed a step, and only a grab at the banister saved her from a fall.

  The butler, hearing the thunk of Hester’s slipper-shod foot against the stair, looked over his shoulder at them. Hester waved. The butler, who walked with a stoop, and none too quickly, continued up the stairs.

  “When we get to the top of the stairs, stop and I’ll have a look.”

  At the top of the stairs Hester duly paused, and Eugenia shook out the white silk of her skirt before she adjusted the trailing end of the bow at the back. Hester’s evening gown made the most of her considerable physical assets. The gown had a modest train, and she looked quite the thing in it. But now Eugenia wondered if a train had been a wise decision. Unfortunately, the skirt refused to fall elegantly to her feet but persisted in a sideways pull that quite ruined the line. Neither would the bow lie flat as it ought.

  Eugenia bent for a closer look. “What is this?”

  “What?” Hester craned her neck to look.

  “Someone’s sewn the ribbon to your skirt.”

  “I thought it was clever of me.”

  “But it’s crooked, Hester. No wonder your skirt won’t lie straight.” She glanced at the butler who had not yet noticed they weren’t following. He’d not got very far, and given his turtle’s pace, Eugenia doubted he’d make it out of their sight. She opened her reticule and dug out the tortoiseshell etui that contained needle and thread and a tiny pair of scissors. She snipped the thread that fastened the ribbon to Hester’s skirt. This time when she shook out the fabric, the bow straightened and the skirt took on the intended graceful drape. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

  They hurried after the butler and arrived, not even slightly out of breath, at the doorway to an enormous saloon. Hester put her arm through Eugenia’s, and they went inside. The walls and outer ceiling were white and gold. Vermillion curtains drawn for the evening covered the tall windows that lined the long side of one wall. Gilt-framed mirrors reflected light from the two massive chandeliers required to light the room. All along the walls were portraits of men in armor or astride rearing horses, a thematic complement to the vividly painted battle scenes in the center of the ceiling. She would not have been the least astonished had blood been dripping from the bodies to the Axminster carpet beneath their feet.

  Like Hester, she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. The air was frigid. They continued to follow the butler through the saloon and, thankfully, in the direction of the fireplace. It was at this point Eugenia realized the room was not empty.

  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.”