Page 49 of My Wicked Earl
Cam bestowed an indulgent smile upon the two ladies.
Lady Helen struggled discreetly to loosen her mother's grip.
“Lady Cottingham, Lady Helen.” Cam politely took Lady Cottingham’s hand and gently pulled her up while simultaneously bowing over her hand. “How radiant you both look tonight. I trust you are finding Gray Covington comfortable?”
Lady Cottingham appeared as if she would faint from sheer delight. “My lord,” she twittered, “we are so pleased at your invitation. I am in utter awe of the beauty of this room.”
Good Lord, she’s giggling like a schoolgirl.
Where on earth was Lord Cottingham? The man should bear witness to the way his wife was making an ass out of herself over the Marquess of Cambourne.
“My husband begs your pardon, Lord Cambourne. He is unable to join us for dinner this evening.” Lady Cottingham batted her lashes.
The effect was less than alluring.
“I hope he’s not ill.” Cam inquired. “There is an excellent physician nearby, Dr. Merwick. I can have him sent for.”
Lady Cottingham giggled again. “How generous of you, Lord Cambourne, but please do not trouble yourself. My husband sometimes becomes ill if he spends too long in a carriage. I assure you he will be right as rain tomorrow and looks forward to your tour of the estate.”
“As do I. I hope you and your daughter will permit me the honor of escorting you both into dinner? I am a poor substitute for Lord Cottingham, I know.”
A small snort sounded from Colin. He couldn’t help it. Lady Cottingham would cheerfully push her husband off a cliff if the end result was dangling on the arm of the Marquess of Cambourne.
Cam shot him a disapproving look.
Lady Cottingham beamed with pleasure and even Lady Helen’s eyes widened at Cam’s words. “Of course, my lord. We would be honored.” She had the decency to look askance at Colin.
Colin gave a polite nod of his head. At least he’d be spared taking the ladies Cottingham into dinner.
“And may I say, Lord Cambourne, that I look forward to walking in the Gray Covington gardens? I’ve long heard of their beauty, especially the midnight roses. I had the pleasure of seeing vases of the blooms once, at a ball your mother hosted in London just before her marriage to Mr. Herbert Reynolds. Mr. Reynolds is an acquaintance of Lord Cottingham,” she added.
“Mystepmother.” Ice dripped from the words.
The color left Lady Cottingham’s face and her lips trembled at the rebuke.
Poor woman, she’s stepped in it now. Cam detests having people assume that bitch is his mother.
Alex silently appeared at her husband’s side, threading her arm through his. Her fingertips pressed lightly against his forearm in a calming gesture.
“We do not grow midnight roses any longer, Lady Cottingham,” Alex said in a matter of fact tone. “Alas, the plants fell victim to a horrible infestation of aphids. Really very tragic.”
“Aphids?” Lady Cottingham blinked rapidly, and two spots of color appeared on her powered cheeks.
“Birds eat aphids,” Lady Helen twittered to no one in particular.
“Yes,” Alex continued. “Unfortunately, the plants had to be destroyed. Each and every bush had to be ripped,” her eyes narrowed rather viciously, “from the ground.”
“But, surely,” Lady Cottingham who doubtless knew quite a bit about gardening in addition to dairy farming said, “some cuttings could be saved? A root ball, perhaps?”
“Sadly, no.” Alex shook her head which allowed a curl to loosen from her coiffure and bounce against her brow. “The aphids wereparticularto the midnight rose. Our head gardener had never seen anything like it and was quite mystified, wasn’t he my lord?”
A small smile lifted the corner of Cam’s mouth, his wife having dispelled his black mood. “Yes, mystified.”
“We’ve replanted the gardens with a much more sturdy species of rose, one that can withstand an aphid attack. I’m sure you’ll find them equally as lovely.”
Colin knew that the midnight roses were createdespeciallyfor Lady Jeanette Cambourne. At her command. The petals of the flowers were meant to serve as a foil for her own pale beauty. Dozens of gardeners were sacked until one lucky man producedexactlythe right shade. Lady Cambourne had permitted only midnight roses to be planted in the gardens of Gray Covington and Cambourne House. When her ladyship hosted a ball or other large gathering, she insisted that large vases of the roses fill each room, so much so that the flower vendors of London competed for cuttings of the bushes in order to grow enough to meet her demands.
The midnight rose bushes had been destroyed at Cam’s insistence once his stepmother was finally gone from London.
