Chapter 4
Rowe Pembroke opened the library door to the sight of Joanna soaked through, carrying a kitten and its mother in each arm.
The stable lad trailed in her wake with a wool bundle in his hand that moved and mewled at his side.
Their muddy tracks snaked across the gray marble floor from the front entrance, and the housekeeper coming from the morning room gave a small shriek and snapped her fingers at one of the maids.
Joanna turned behind her to scold the stable lad.
“Take care how you hold them. They are already frightened, and with you bundling them together in such a way, they will scratch each others’ eyes out.” She caught sight of Rowe and went to him. “Is there a fire in the library? I must dry the kittens first before we bring them to the kitchen.”
Camilla joined him in the doorway and reached her hand out to the stable lad. “Ewett, you had best give me the kittens and go and fetch a maid from downstairs to kindle a fire for us.”
“Yes, milady.” He bobbed his head and carefully deposited the bundle into her arms.
“Careful. The kittens will dart out as soon as you open the bag,” Joanna warned. “And Finicky will certainly draw her claws.”
Rowe assisted where he could, first in preventing the kittens from scratching Camilla when the bag was opened, then in tracking the felines to see where they ran—one underneath the sofa, another extending his claws to pick at the rug, two more exploring their new environment.
Apart from the awkward question Camilla had asked him earlier, those few moments they had spent watching the storm had been as close to domestic bliss as a man—married or not—could expect.
Nothing but peace, quiet conversation, and no pressure to make promises or hold to them.
Now all was chaos and scrambling legs and paws, with Joanna on all fours coaxing one of the kittens from under the desk. At least he wasn’t bored.
“Here, use this trunk to hold them.” Camilla emptied blankets and a maquette from the trunk sitting underneath the side table that held a globe.
She began to drag it over, and he rushed to help and set the trunk close to the fireplace.
She followed with one of the blankets and placed it in the bottom of the trunk, and he scooped up the two nearest kittens and set them inside where they could not escape.
“Excellent notion,” Joanna exclaimed when all the kittens had been accounted for. The mother cat had leapt up on the window seat and was regarding the scene with baleful eyes. The maid came in and, without paying any mind to the cats, began to build and stoke a small blaze in the chimney.
“Why did you bring them inside at all?” Camilla took a seat on the floor beside the trunk and curled her legs behind her. “They were warm and dry enough in the stable.”
“They were terrified of the storm. I did not want to leave them out there alone when they are so small.”
“They have their mother to comfort them,” Rowe said, shooting Joanna an indulgent smile. “Mother Nature does well enough for its creatures without needing our assistance.”
“Well then, I brought them in because I wanted to,” she replied, forced to honesty, which made him laugh outright. Camilla rested a set of merry eyes on him, then turned back to her sister.
“They are a nice little diversion, but have you asked Miles whether he will permit a litter of kittens to reside in his house?”
“I will do so,” Joanna said, stubbornly unmoved by all remonstrations. “Once he sees how effective a mouser each will become, he won’t be able to part with them.”
Camilla turned her attention to petting the kittens in the trunk, who had finally begun to settle in their temporary shelter. The details of the conversation they had just shared flitted through Rowe’s mind, and he studied her with brotherly affection.
It was brotherly affection he felt for her, although the strangest sensation had come over him when he first arrived at Elmscote and walked into the drawing room to the sight of Lady Camilla, gazing down at Miles’s infant daughter.
It seemed many minutes had passed before she noticed him.
Then she had looked up and the spell was broken—or nearly broken.
He was able to exchange a few light words with her, shifting easily back into the comfortable way they had with each other—precisely where he wanted their relationship to stay.
He had always liked Camilla, from the first time he had met her a couple of years ago while his cousin was pursuing Lady Dorothea.
Camilla had been scarcely more than a girl, but she had made some droll remark that seemed clever beyond her years—he had forgotten what; something about Evo being sent down from school—and no one reacted, or even seemed to notice her flash of subtle humor.
He, however, had found her amusing. From that time onward, whenever they met, he sought her conversation, curious as to what unfiltered comment she would make.
She never disappointed him by falling back on platitudes.
Occasionally, her wit was directed at him instead of others, and she hit too close to the mark.
One such case was when they had met on horseback and visited the glade.
She had told him, of all things, that he was too particular about resisting marriage since all he had to do was to sire an heir.
It was just like her to blurt out such a thing without a care for propriety, besides being woefully naive about what marriage did entail.
And even that very night, before they had been interrupted, she had had the audacity to ask him what frightened him about marriage.
Frightened him, of all things! It was as well she rarely directed her pointed observations or blunt questions his way, for in every other respect, Lady Camilla Rowlandson was a comfortable companion and could be relied upon to keep him entertained.
Another week passed, with Miles refusing the kittens a permanent home indoors despite the excellent arguments Joanna brought forth, much to that young lady’s indignation.
Felix grew pleased with Evo who showed a surprising aptitude for chess, and Rowe enjoyed the morning rides and afternoon conversations with Camilla and her sisters.
The evenings were spent all together, playing amusing childhood games such as Fox and Geese, and lottery.
Dorothea began to bring her baby down to the drawing room during the day, so she might enjoy their company.
Rowe was no great hand at children, so when she asked if he wished to hold Augusta, he demurred.
There were plenty of others in the room who would be more than glad to have the honor, he reminded her.
Her answering smile seemed to see right through him.
He and Miles played billiards every day, even when the weather was temperate.
They had both decided to improve their game, and having thus set upon this goal, went about achieving it by practicing for hours.
It was during one of these sessions that he decided to take his cousin into his confidence.
Perhaps it was Lady Camilla’s words the night of the storm that had needled him and caused him to think more seriously about the prospect of marriage.
There might even have been truth in her claim that he was fleeing the marital state without any good reason.
“My mother included a note of congratulations for the birth of your daughter in the letter she sent.”
Miles made his shot, then stood. “Please extend my gratitude.”
Rowe leaned over the table to aim, but his concentration must have been off since the ball went in an odd direction. “She is now encouraging me to pursue Miss Eubank.”
“Who is she? Oh yes—a neighbor of yours. Brother’s Christopher?”
“That’s the one. I think my mother has given up on the idea of a woman who leads Society for me and is now pushing one who would not require a great effort to woo.” He shrugged. “She is a fair-looking girl and has a portion.”
Miles rubbed chalk on his cue, eyeing him. “Do you plan to do it?”
Rowe walked around the table, studying the position of the balls on the green cloth as he planned his shot.
“I haven’t decided. We’ve met at country parties over the years and once or twice in London.
My mother said Sir Arthur Eubank will extend us all an invitation to Christmas if I am inclined toward the match. ”
“Better not accept unless you are sure,” Miles cautioned. “Remember the time your mother hosted a house party for you to pursue I-forgot-which-young-miss, and you absconded from the party without telling anyone?”
He rubbed the side of his nose. “Not one of my finer moments, I daresay.”
“Will she suit, do you think, this Miss Eubank?” Miles positioned himself for his shot.
It was an unusually direct question coming from him, but he must have also thought it time for Rowe to settle down.
After all, he was evidently happy with his situation, and likely thought everyone should get leg-shackled.
“She is a comfortable gel. I should say she would. Still, it would not do to rush into things.”
“No indeed,” Miles replied with such irony that Rowe glanced at him. He laughed.
“It is all well and good for you. You fell for Lady Dorothea almost upon sight. Not all of us are so fortunate.”
Miles looked smug. “I shall leave off troubling you on the matter then, for you are right. It is not easy to settle down to the married state when your heart is not engaged, and you are not so desperate as to need to marry for money.”