“No.” He studied her prim gown that was obviously well made but designed for practicality rather than allure. The color was a dark brown, no doubt chosen to blend in with the surrounding woods. This might have worked had the tree barks not been a stark white here.
“Lower Bramble is one of the lovelier villages in Devonshire,” she said.
“I see. I was just there on some Durham estate business.” He offered his arm to escort her back to the house, since she appeared to be done with her bird watching for the afternoon.
She ignored his offer and simply walked along beside him.
He liked this independent streak in Florence.
Was this perverse of him? To prefer a lady who did not cling to him like a mouse and declare him to be perfectly wonderful?
Fiona knew his likes and dislikes almost better than he did himself, and he could see why she’d chosen to invite this particular young lady.
Well, this was Cherish’s house party, but Fiona had certainly played a major role not only in the menu planning but in the selection of suitable young ladies.
“Durham,” Lady Florence said with a matter-of-fact air as they walked along, “you needn’t worry that I am after you. In truth, I am only here as a favor to Jocelyn, and to avoid being hounded by my own family. But I have no intention of marrying a man like you.”
That stopped Rob in his tracks. “What do you mean by that statement?”
“Please do not take this as an insult…”
Which he did.
“But you seem quite tightly wound and come across as the sort who will never take a toe out of line. That can get awfully tiresome.”
“And you know this about me how?” Being serious and attentive to duty were traits one should hope for in a husband, were they not? He was not tightly wound, as she had just accused. However, he did like to be in control of his feelings and actions. Was this not better than being an out-of-control arse?
Nor was he averse to taking a toe out of line. She had only to ask Fiona about the nights he’d spent in her bed.
He raked a hand through his hair in dismay, for this was not something ever to be discussed with anyone but Fiona herself.
“Well, it has been a pleasure talking to you, Durham. Do not bother asking me to dance or partner you in cards for the duration of our stay. I am not good at either and will only frustrate you, since you are obviously a man who strives for perfection and likes to win.”
With that, she scampered into the house.
No wonder Florence was still a spinster despite her decent looks and quick wit. Some might call it an outrageous wit, for she had spent much of their walk insulting him. A duke. A desired bachelor. And she would not stop tossing him barbs.
But if she truly had no desire to marry, then she might be useful to him over the course of the week.
He walked onto the terrace, intending to stroll into the parlor, but was waylaid by a friendly summons from the Duke of Lynton, who had just arrived and immediately stepped out for air on the terrace. His wife, Eden, stood smiling beside him.
“Durham, good to see you again,” Lynton remarked. “How have you been?”
Rob arched an eyebrow. “Not as happy as you, by the look of it.”
Eden cast him a gracious smile. “Are you ready for the onslaught? You won’t be the only eligible bachelor present, if that is any consolation.”
“Oh, gad. You are not referring to Lord Pershing, are you?”
Eden shook her head. “Well, he may be eligible and a bachelor, but I would hardly call him a prize catch. But I understand Viscount Aubrey will also be in attendance. He is an avid bird watcher and—”
Rob laughed. “Ah, I see where this is going. You think to match him with Florence Newton?”
Eden appeared surprised. “How did you know?”
“Good luck with that,” he muttered. “Have you met her?”
“No,” she admitted. “But Camborne’s wife is best friends with her and has assured us she is lovely. Do you know her?”
