The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,19

have in ornamental displays. I simply must buy some. After all, one has to remain de rigueur if one is to lead by example. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Christ have mercy.

Simon stared at Lady Warwick. “My Latin may be a tad rusty, but if I’m not mistaken, allium is garlic.”

Lady Warwick blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Decorating your home with it would certainly be different.” While he was sure the purple flowers could look lovely in a vase, it seemed like the women who let themselves be swept away by such trends were allowing the wool to be pulled over their eyes.

“I’m sure you must be mistaken,” Lady Warwick said with a dismissive chuckle. “I would never put vegetables on display and neither would any of the ladies of my acquaintance.”

Simon briefly considered informing her that garlic was in fact an herb, only to think better of it. Instead, he contemplated his own susceptibility to the influence of others. Who the hell was he to judge Lady Warwick, to laugh at her gullibility, when he himself was no better? Hell, he was probably worse. At least she was willing to be seen with her son-in-law, a man who’d been raised in the slums of St. Giles, trained as a bare-knuckle boxer. Huntley might be a duke now, but his past would never be truly forgotten among the gentry.

By contrast, Simon worried what people would say when they eventually saw him with Miss Strong. Would they approve of her appearance and conduct? Would they find her as stunning as he did? Would other women wish they were as pretty as she? Most importantly, would he mind if they didn’t?

Disgust raked through him. He hated that he had such contemplations – hated himself for caring so bloody much over which waistcoat he put on or whether his cravat was tied in the latest style. “According to some,” he told the countess without even thinking, “setting oneself apart, being different, is far more admirable than skittering after the Pied Piper’s tune.”

“To do so,” Lady Warwick murmured, “takes more courage than most possess.”

Dismayed by the unexpected insightfulness suggestive of self-deprecation, Simon failed to voice a response. He simply didn’t know what to say.

“Next please.”

Simon gave the clerk his full attention. “I would like to purchase a bouquet of roses. White, if possible.” Red seemed too romantic. A neutral color would be best.

Lady Warwick made a huffing sound from behind his right shoulder.

Simon felt his brow crease with annoyance. “You disapprove?”

“Well, it’s just a very predictable choice.”

Returning his attention to the clerk, Simon told her firmly. “A large bouquet of white roses would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the clerk said as she disappeared into a back room. She returned moments later with a gorgeous selection of half open white roses surrounded by long, leafy accent bits in a bright shade of green.

“They’re perfect.”

The clerk smiled with satisfaction. “I’ll just have them trimmed and tied with a bow.”

“Since you’ve no remaining female relations,” Lady Warwick murmured once Simon had paid for the flowers, “one cannot help but wonder who those might be for.”

He wanted to tell the nosy woman it was none of her damn business. Instead, he offered a private smile. “And if I have my way, you shall continue to do so indefinitely.”

Leaving her wide eyed and speechless, Simon exited the shop, bouquet in hand. A grin teased his lips. There was something wonderfully freeing about being less polite than people expected. Not rude. He’d never be that. Just a bit more blasé.

His grin widened. It finally felt as though he was starting to cast off the shackles with which he’d been bound his entire life. Not completely. He was still a gentleman, after all. But he was a gentleman with a newfound purpose – one with a scandalous secret waiting for him in his bachelor lair – and one who cared a little less for propriety today than he had the day before.

As a child, Simon had learned to follow orders – he’d been taught that there were rules of comportment one must adhere to. Obedience had been expected of him by both parents. Furthermore, Papa had served as an example of how an earl should behave, which was apparently without humor or any hint of emotion. Whenever he’d caught Simon playing, he’d reminded him in a somber tone that learning to be an earl was a serious business, upon which he’d ordered him back to his studies with the reminder that