Not Proper Enough (A Reforming the Scoundrels Romance) (17 page)

“Fenris.” The man’s voice cracked at the last syllable.

Fox gave him a cool look.

“Lord Fenris?” He was either drunk or a fool or both. “The Duke of Camber’s son?”

With Eugenia’s hand still in his, he stood straight. He did not often find that he wanted or needed to impress upon someone the particulars of his rank. Most people knew who he was, and he’d found there was usually little to be gained from the crudeness of insisting on his privileges. Right now, he wanted to grind this man into an acknowledgment. “Yes.”

“Well, well, well.” The ass looked at Eugenia then at him. He grinned. “Quite a victory for any woman to tempt you from the Incomparable.”

Though he itched to use his fists, instead, he addressed Eugenia. “Lady Eugenia. My apologies for being gone longer than I intended. I should never have left your side.”

The other man blanched.

Point made.

The stranger was not drunk enough to be insensible to the magnitude of his error, it seemed. Inebriation, however, in no way excused his behavior. Fox looked away from Eugenia and held the man’s gaze.

Her fingers tightened around his. “I confess, my lord, I was beginning to worry.”

Pale now, the stranger bowed uneasily and said, “Forgive me, my lord. My lady.”

Eugenia kept a glacial silence.

“I was mistaken in…That is—”

Fox maintained eye contact. How satisfying it would be
to put a fist in his face. His hand twitched. “If you do not make yourself scarce, sir, I shan’t answer to the consequences.”

“Indeed, sir. Indeed. Apologies. A thousand of them. So sorry to have intruded.” He bowed once, then again and made a swift and inelegant departure.

When the fool was gone, Fox continued to hold Eugenia’s hand. His anger—not at her—did not diminish. It was all he could do to refrain from pulling her into his arms. “Did he harm you?”

She shook her head, then managed to speak. “No.”

“Miss Rendell was concerned by your absence.” He was careful to keep a hint of disinterest in his voice. If he had learned anything about Eugenia in the time she’d unbent enough to remain in his presence, it was that she did not take kindly to gentlemen who treated her as if she were mentally incapable. Robert would have taught her to expect that sort of respect from a man who cared for her. “She insisted I find you and bring you back.”

She licked her lips. “A moment, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

Just when Fox believed he might actually convince her to return with him, Lane and his usual companions came around the corner from the direction of their box. The men slowed when they recognized him, and Fox did not think he mistook the malicious gleam in Lane’s eye.

Several of the men leaned in to whisper to one another. They slowly walked by, pretending they’d not noticed him. Someone in the middle of the group said
I’d fetch a button from that bosom
.

Fox’s anger boiled over. He whirled toward the men, and if not for Eugenia grabbing his arm, he would have launched himself at Lane and his cronies. “Don’t. Please. You’ll only make it worse.”

Lane stopped walking. “My dear Fox.”

“You haven’t leave to call me that.”

Lane’s gaze moved between him and Eugenia. “What fascinating company you keep.” He made Eugenia an elaborate
bow. “Always a delight to see you. Indeed, as others have been so moved to poetry, so am I in your presence. I daresay I’m a better poet than any Scotsman. Hark.” He glanced upward, pointing a finger toward the heavens. “She shames the sun, fired o’er with beauty, No man alive resists his duty, to die so sweetly for her eyes, we are gluttons—”

One of the men behind him finished the line sotto voce. “For lost buttons.”

Fox clenched a fist. Jesus. What a debacle.

Eugenia smiled. “Why, thank you, Mr. Lane. What delightful verses. Your poetical talent is unbounded.” Her fingers tightened on his arm, but she spoke in a pleasant tone that robbed Lane of the delight of seeing his barbs strike home. “You ought to call on us at Spring Street so that we may hear more of your remarkable verses.”

Dinwitty bowed again. “Ma’am. Thank you.”

Fox speared Lane with a glare that made the man blanch. He wanted to thrash someone, by God. Dinwitty Lane would do as well as anyone.

“I do hope you continue to enjoy the performance.” She curtseyed to him. “Good night, sir.” While Lane and his friends moved on, she adjusted her gloves.

Fox counted to ten before he spoke in order to be sure he could address her calmly. “You invited him to call?”

“I prefer to keep my enemies close.” Her enemies, naturally, included him, and he saw quite clearly she intended that missile for him, too.

“Damn you,” he said in a low voice.

She pressed her mouth tightly closed. “Go away.”

“As if I’d leave you open to another improper advance. Or untoward remarks by lobster-brained fools.” He clapped a hand on the back of his neck, but too late now. The acerbic words were spoken. “Ginny.” He drew a breath. “Ginny, my dear heart. There are times you try me beyond my capacity to behave.” He inclined his head. “No excuse, I know. My apologies.”

She meant to object, he knew it, but all she did was press her lips together and stare at the place where his coat was
missing a button. The fabric had torn. “Thank you,” she said in a voice so soft he barely heard. “For convincing that man to let me alone.”

“You are welcome.” He watched her expression shut down. “Ginny,” he said. “My love.” Her eyes lifted to his, shocked. Well. He didn’t care. He truly didn’t. “You cannot wander the halls by yourself.”

“I am aware.”

He forced himself to relax enough that he did not speak more curtly than was wise. “Allow me to escort you back to Camber’s box.”

“So everyone may wonder what you found while you had your hand down my gown?”

He stiffened. “No such thing happened. Everyone in the box knows it. Camber, Miss Rendell, Lord and Lady Monson. Everyone who was there knows. Including you.”

“What does it matter when Mr. Lane spouts poetry to the contrary?”

“No one takes Lane seriously.”

“Yes they do. You know they do. Who do you think they’ll believe?” He could tell she was fighting tears. He, in return, fought the urge to take her in his arms. She’d never allow it, for one thing. “You know nothing of the power of rumor.” Her eyes were a common enough blue, but the fact was he’d always thought they were pretty. Striking in their shape and intensity. She’d always had a way of looking at a man as if she saw through all his pretenses.

“I do, Ginny.” This was his doing, her fear of gossip. He’d give anything if that weren’t the case. “I promise you, I do.”

“If I’d known you’d be here, I would have declined Camber’s offer of tickets.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I only wanted Hester to be seen in his box.” Her lower lip trembled. “She’s a wonderful girl, and if there was even one man with half a brain in his head in this awful town she’d be engaged to be married already. But no one sees that about her. She’s amusing and generous and kind and intelligent and there’s not a better person alive than Hester.”

“I daresay my father is aware of that.”

“As if that makes any difference. He’s not a suitor, Fenris. It’s the men your age who won’t see.”

“I think you’re mistaken.”

“And now that business with the button. I’ve only made everything worse.” She looked away, a hand pressed to her cheek. “I want to go home. Please take me home, Fox.”

He touched her arm. “Come now, what will people say if you don’t return?”

“I don’t care.”

“Will you deprive that plant-mad girl of the opportunity to discuss botany with my father? Never.” He adopted a jovial expression. “Confess it, tonight you were hoping—”

Her chin lifted. “Dreading.”

“—I would arrive and save you from listening to their interminable conversation about budding and fertilizer and the dangers of overwatering.”

Her eyes flashed. Disagreeing with him agreed with her. “Your father has been perfectly delightful tonight. I think it’s charming the way he humors Hester.”

“Humors her?” He threw a hand into the air, and though he knew better than to let his emotions get the better of him, that’s what happened. “You willfully misunderstand, Ginny.”

She gave him an icy stare. “I certainly do not.”

“He’s enamored of her, for God’s sake. He’s bloody well making a fool of himself over a girl who dreams of root systems. Are you blind?”

“No, I am not. And no, he isn’t.” She inched away from him. “Enamored of her, I mean. Or making a fool of himself. That’s nonsense. He’s your
father
. He’s the Duke of Camber.”

“For pity’s sake, woman.”

She drew herself up with an astonishing primness. “She’s the daughter he’s always wanted.”

“Good God. You can’t be serious.”

“I think the attention he pays her is sweet. There’s no romance, Fenris. That’s absurd. He doesn’t see her that way.”

“Every man alive thinks about the women he meets in a carnal way.”

“He’s old enough to be her father.”

“I assure you, Camber has thought it about Miss Rendell.”

She crossed her arms underneath her bosom, still with her chin lifted. “Have you?”

“Of course.”

Her eyes widened.

“On a purely theoretical level, of course, but I assure you I have had such thoughts.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Even if I grant you that,
she
does not think it. As far as I can tell she does not think about any man that way. That’s the problem. She simply refuses to think of any man as someone she might marry.” She gave him a look of part speculation and part exasperation. “Though she did once remark that she finds you handsome.”

“Don’t throw her in my way.” He shook his head. He’d not stand for that. Not from her. “Don’t think it. Don’t dream of it. It won’t work.”

“She’d do very well for you.”

“I don’t require any assistance, thank you, in finding a wife.”

The corridor continued to slowly empty of people. Not a crush anymore. Only a crowd. Her mouth firmed. “You can avoid my deadly aim with Hester simply by failing to appear in our path.” She tugged on her gloves. “How odd that such a tactic would not occur to you. It’s not so hard to avoid matchmaking mamas, after all. You’ve been doing it successfully for years.”

“I fully intend to be married.”

Her eyes flashed again. “Here. Since you won’t allow someone to introduce you to a lovely, sweet, intelligent, and worthy girl you don’t in any way deserve.” She drew off the medallion she wore and pressed it into his hand, closing his fingers over it. “You need this more than I do.”

He opened his fingers and stared at the carved face of
Cupid on this side. He turned it over. A bow and arrow. How precious. “You’re right. Quite right. I am in sore need of such magic as this is said to possess.”

“I am happy to be of assistance, my lord.”

Danger lurked in the treacle of her reply, and he decided to meet that head-on. He gave her a bow that reeked of irony. “Thank you. You are too, too kind.”

“I hope it works for you better than it has for me.”

While she watched, he discarded the ribbon and attached the medallion to his watch chain to hang beside the fob he already wore. “There.”

“You’ll be married before the New Year. Congratulations.”

“I don’t see why not.” He patted the medallion and grinned at her. “I expect now I’ll be trampled by hordes of suitable candidates for my heart.”

“Your barren heart.”

He tapped the left side of his chest. “I’ll miss the echo when I’ve found my heart’s desire.”

Her mouth quivered, and she glanced away. “Stop it.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t amuse me. It spoils my mood.” When she looked back, her attention skipped to the lapel of his coat.

Fox touched the place where his button ought to have been. “Are you happy? I have several engagements tonight, and now I must rearrange everything in order to return home and change. There. Does that sufficiently darken your mood?”

Her splendid bosom heaved, just the once, alas. Her expression softened and became, dare he think it, contrite. “Yes. Very much, sir. I am sorry for the loss of your button.”

“I should hope so.” He tugged on his coat. “It’s ruined.”

“It was my fault.”

“Does it hurt much to admit your fault?”

“Yes. It does. Awful man.” She held out a hand. “Give it to me.”

“My coat? No. Why?”

“Everyone who sees you will think the button is still down my bodice or believe it’s true how you retrieved it.” She opened her reticule and took out a tortoiseshell etui. “I’ll sew the thing back on myself. God forbid you should be even a minute late to your engagement with incomparably pretty ballet girls.”

“Ballet girls?” His heart fell, since not for a moment did he suppose her use of that particular description was anything but deliberate.

She closed her fingers around the box and met his gaze. “I know what a serious matter your social calendar is when there are ballet girls involved.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’ve been married. I know perfectly well what men do with women.” She flushed, because, yes, as she’d amply proved with him and appeared now to be recalling, she did know a thing or two.

He let out a breath. “Ginny. I do not have a mistress. Not Lady Tyghe and not an Italian ballet dancer, either.”

“Not even an incomparable one?”

“Not presently.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “But you did once.”

“I did.” He sighed. “She was extremely beautiful, I don’t deny that. I suppose she still is, but beauty is not enough to continue in a relationship. Not for me, at any rate.” He cocked his head. “Why so curious?”

“I’m not.” Her cheeks pinked up again. “It’s just that everyone talks about her as if she’s some sort of prize, and you were the winner.”

He touched the underside of her chin. “What do you want to know about us?”

“Nothing.”

“Her name is Addolorata.”

She firmed her mouth in an obvious attempt to stop herself from smiling. “Did you call her Addy?”