Chapter 10
“I
suppose this would be the part where you remind me that it was precisely as you predicted?” Cameron asked miserably. He swigged the sherry from its small glass, grimaced at the flavor, then poured another and drank that as well.
Can I not even get anything resembling decent whiskey or ale in this accursed place? he wondered. Must I suffer in that regard as well?
He was half tempted to send Carstairs on a search for something more drinkable, except that after the events of the evening, he wasn’t wholly certain he could endure another withering look from the valet.
What sort of strange place was London, where the subordinates sneered at their masters and made them feel like bumbling fools? Cameron was stupefied.
“I did, as you may recall, attempt to explain to you,” Carstairs sighed wearily, “that the English method of courtship is quite different from that practiced in your native land. As such, you must comport yourself as English gentlemen do rather than charging into the thing like some barbarous Highlander driven into a frenzy by the scent of battle.”
“She seemed to harbor distaste for such traditional practices,” Cameron said, choosing to ignore that rather grievous insult to his people.
In truth, he’d endured so many such remarks already that night that he was too tired to combat them further.
“As such, it seemed to me that less conventional—and, indeed, more direct—methods would benefit me where she was concerned.”
“Perhaps they would,” the valet acknowledged, “but as in all things, it is a matter of degree, not to mention context.”
Cameron squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling another headache coming on. “Can you stop speaking in bloody riddles and just tell me what you think I ought to do in order to win her affections?!”
He expected Carstairs to utter some dry and cutting retort, something that would make Cameron feel all the more silly for losing his temper. It surprised him, then, when instead, the valet’s expression softened, and he put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder.
“You are frustrated, and anyone can see why. You are far from the home you love, and you have been tasked with a nearly impossible quest…to somehow make an English noblewoman see past the fact that you are a Scotsman so that she may accept a proposal of marriage from you. What’s more, you are openly ridiculed wherever you go for nothing more than looking and sounding different from those around you.
As such, it is only natural that you might choose to dig in all the harder against it, to reject the customs of these people who mock and disrespect you, the better to demonstrate your own fierce pride in being Scottish.
All of this is understandable, sir. However, continuing to indulge in these instincts will not bring you greater success. Only more failure and aggravation.”
“You have spoken the truth of it, Carstairs,” Cameron admitted grudgingly.
“I know that. But if I capitulate, if I repress my own behaviors in order to emulate those of these blasted Londoners, then would that not be dishonest to some degree? To put forth a version of myself that is false and hope she will be fond of it?”
“You have already shown her the truth of who you are,” the valet pointed out.
“Quite vociferously, it must be said. She is aware of you. She is aware of your feelings for her. Now, however, would be the perfect time to demonstrate to her that you are also capable of self-restraint. Of poise and patience. Of respecting boundaries as she has defined them. If you take the time and trouble to learn the customs she is familiar with…if you meet her halfway, then she will see that your affections are about more than mere words. They are about impressing her with your actions.” Carstairs paused, then added, “That is, of course, if you have the inclination to commit yourself to this pursuit so thoroughly.”
“I must,” Cameron insisted. “I must do whatever it takes to win her heart. Still, Carstairs, it is difficult indeed to be patient when I want so desperately to return home. I am ill-suited for London.”
Carstairs smirked. “To put it mildly, sir, yes. As I understand it, there is a ball being held two days from now at the home of Lady Lucy Rosewood. The members of society shall be gathering there, which ensures the attendance of Lord Harry, the Viscount Thornton…and his wife Matilda, of course.”
“Even so, that in itself is no guarantee that Cora will be there as well,” Cameron lamented.
“Even if she were fond of those sorts of affairs—and she has made it clear that she is not—she might forgo it from the fresh embarrassment of having fled the soiree at Lady Hepplewhite’s.
And now the opera house as well, for that matter. ”
“Given how notoriously fragile Lord Harry’s ego is,” Carstairs replied gingerly, “one imagines that he will insist upon his sister’s presence to prevent further scandal.
He will insist that she find some way to redeem herself for the instances previously mentioned so that his own reputation is not the worse for it. ”
“And if she refuses him and remains at home? I will have wasted an entire evening on such paltry drivel.”
Carstairs clucked his tongue reproachfully.
“Not a waste at all, sir, even in that event. For it will give you a second chance to make a better impression on her brother and show yourself to be a suitor worthy of her consideration—and his own, of course, given how important his approval will be in such a circumstance. You will demonstrate that you are knowledgeable in the ways of gentlemen and that information will doubtless be relayed to her in turn.”
“And then?” Cameron demanded impatiently. “What comes after that? And after that, and so on? Why must the process be so bloody long and difficult?!”
“Pray tell, sir, what is the process where you come from? Do you prefer to knock the local lasses over the head with a cudgel and drag them to the nearest chapel so that they may be married as soon as their senses return to them?”
“We nobles make formal petitions to the families of the women we wish to wed, and if those petitions are favorably responded to, we bloody well get on with it. The peasants simply fall in love and get married, and it’s as plain as that.”
“You have fallen in love,” Carstairs ventured delicately, “but have you considered that perhaps you have not given her adequate opportunity to fall in love with you?”
“She is in love with me, Carstairs, I am sure of that,” Cameron declared vehemently. “I have seen that emotion burning in her eyes when she looks at me. It is easily recognizable and impossible to deny. I have only to convince her to act upon it, and she will be mine.”
“Then convince her by showing her those parts of yourself I previously made mention of,” Carstairs advised him. “The ones you have not yet displayed to her. I have every confidence that once she has seen the other side of you, she will be in a far better position to accede to your proposal.”
Cameron raised his eyebrows hopefully. “Do you really believe so?”
The valet winced. “I have seen far stranger things occur in my lifetime,” he responded tactfully.
Shortly after that, Carstairs excused himself and went to bed, and Cameron did likewise.
The following day and the one after that was spent learning all Cameron could from Carstairs in terms of English formal customs of the sort that might impress Lord Harry Weatherington.
Carstairs helped Cameron dress and urged him to take a carriage to the ball this time. “It simply would not do,” Carstairs emphasized, “for you to arrive on foot like some sinister drifter.”
“Point taken,” Cameron agreed.
He had long since stopped questioning these suggestions from Carstairs, trusting that no matter how silly or superfluous some of these customs may have seemed to him, the valet would not steer him wrong.
Cameron rode the carriage to the home of Lady Rosewood and allowed himself to be announced before entering the ballroom, even though the whole thing seemed utterly pompous to him.
Why would these people need for his identity to be loudly trumpeted to them, given that all of them had previously been introduced to him at other events? What sense did it make?
None whatsoever. But it was what these people did, and tonight, he had to do all he could to convince them (or one of them, at the very least) that he deserved to be counted among their number.
When he looked across the room, he saw Lord Harry with his wife…and he also saw Cora standing next to them, looking every bit as uncomfortable as he was feeling in that moment.
So she decided to attend after all, he thought.
Excellent.