Chapter 7
It was Rowe’s eighth London season, and he had not enjoyed a Society ball less than this one.
He was no very great fan of balls as a general rule, so this was saying something.
Although Pollard, a comfortable fellow, was in attendance, he was not particularly talkative.
Gerry Wilmot was not to arrive in London for another week.
Weatherby had simply not felt like attending that night, and Miles wasn’t coming to London at all.
At the start of the evening, Rowe had high expectations for the ball, for he had learned from Felix that Lady Camilla would be attending, and he was looking forward to seeing her after many months.
She generally entertained him with her conversation, but that night, the unenthusiastic manner in which she received him had given him a shock.
It was as though she could not have escaped his presence quickly enough.
What could have possessed her to behave in such a way?
In the two years since he had first met Camilla, they had fallen into an easy friendship.
She had always been completely candid in his presence.
And if, in response to some mystical feminine humor that women fell prey to, she was aloof, he could coax her back into a good humor.
They understood each other, or so he had thought.
Tonight he found her inaccessible, and his only consolation was the flash of amusement he had felt watching her try to keep steps with her ridiculous partner, a beanpole of a gentleman who danced with a showy flourish.
Next, she was smiling and laughing with Laverock, a man whose origins were difficult to prove.
He was wealthy and accepted everywhere, but Rowe wasn’t sure anyone really liked him.
How had he gained an introduction to Lady Camilla?
And now, here she was, dancing with yet another partner.
Rowe was not one to give up easily, however, and he was sure it was a matter of some small misunderstanding between them that could be rectified by a simple conversation between sets.
Having made the resolution, he waited until she had returned to her mother’s side and wasted no time in going over to her.
“Lady Poole, I hope you are well this evening,” he began, addressing the matron with a quick glance at Lady Camilla.
“Lord Pembroke, it is good to see you again,” she answered with a pleased smile.
“It has not been since Elmscote that we’ve had this pleasure.
” The older woman seemed to grow surer of herself with each season.
It showed in her bearing and her voice, which was no longer so frail he had to strain his ears to hear her.
“No indeed. I must tell you how pleased I am to see you all tonight.” He turned to accomplish his objective and coax Camilla down from the high boughs to which she had flown. “Lady Camilla, I hope you will grant me the pleasure of dancing the next set with you.”
“Thank you. I accept.” If her tone was distant, her smile indecipherable, she had at least accepted him. Once they had begun to converse, she would again grow at ease in his presence, he told himself. Still, he remained puzzled, for she did seem strangely altered.
“Shall we?” He gestured forward, and she moved to walk at his side but did not take his arm.
Perhaps he had not been obvious enough when offering it.
She looked well, he decided. Her hair was styled in a very pretty fashion, and the gown she wore was becoming in shade and cut.
Lady Camilla, too, grew in confidence and elegance each year.
Although she would not likely take the ton by storm—for while beautiful, she was not a beauty in the classic sense—she clearly had no trouble attracting suitors.
He led her to an opening on the side of the room and turned to watch the set in progress.
“I have been meaning to ask. How is your hand?” By instinct or by habit, he reached for the one she had injured and went to lift it. As it was encased in a glove, he could not see the scar.
She gently removed her hand from his. “There is a small scar, but it is nothing to speak of. Fortunately it is hidden away on my palm, so I don’t have to explain its presence. Scarcely anyone notices it.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
There was another small silence, and he hoped he would be able to break through her armor before the music signaled the start to their dance. “How are all of your sisters? Lady Joanna, Tilly… And how is Evo?”
“They are all well. Joanna and Tilly are in London, and you have already seen Sophia. Evo will come down as usual for the Easter break, wreak havoc upon the household, then leave us to gather the pieces.”
This was the Camilla he was accustomed to, and he laughed, relief adding to his gaiety. At his sign of appreciation, she unbent a little but showed no more than a slight turning up of the lips. What would it take to coax her to respond in her usual way once again?
“How have you been spending your months since we last met?” he asked, attempting another foray into conversation. “Were you in Surrey for Christmas?”
“We were. There had been talk of returning to Elmscote, but in the end, Dorothea and Miles felt they could make the journey with Augusta, for she is a rather hearty baby. They kept the carriage warm enough for her.”
“It must have been an agreeable winter holiday,” he said, not without a pang of envy.
He had spent it with his mother and sister.
Neither made any attempt to hide their dissatisfaction that he was a bachelor still and therefore shirking his obligation to the Pembroke line.
It could only be due to his obstinacy, they were sure.
“Most agreeable. And what did you do for Christmas?” Now Camilla turned to look at him fully, but there was still that distance he wished to remove.
“I went to my estate and spent it with my family. As I had no other engagements…” He paused, thinking that he had had an invitation but at the last minute had chosen not to accept it.
“Strange,” she said, a crease between her eyes.
“What is?”
“Strange that you had no other invitations. You, a gentleman who is so well liked by all.” The dance had ended, and the partners performed their reverences and left the floor to allow the new couples to enter.
She moved forward, and he hurried to follow, catching her words.
“But then, I am sure your mother was most gratified to have you at home.”
“True. And my sister’s family as well.” The words fell flat as he remembered the dull atmosphere in his house.
His sister Mary was married to a Mr. Richard Moffat, with whom he had nothing in common.
Moffat was older in years, but that wasn’t it.
It didn’t seem possible that he had ever been interesting, not even in his youth.
The only reason Rowe didn’t send his excuses was because his mother would have mentioned it every time she saw him for the next six months.
Besides, he did not have another place to go.
Theirs was a country line dance, and the gentleman at the head called for “Speed the Plough.” The first notes immediately followed, and Rowe and Camilla performed the honors from the opposite side of the line.
When the steps brought them close, he asked, “How did you make Mr. Laverock’s acquaintance? ”
“Mr. Islip performed the introduction.” She added after a space, “Although, I had met him before in Vauxhall at the masquerade ball.”
“Had you?” He was forced to wait until the dance gave them the opportunity to speak. “So you were presented there. He is a tolerable fellow, but a bit difficult to predict. There is a secretiveness to him that one cannot quite like.”
“So I am to understand, but I do not mind it.” She turned around Rowe as their palms touched. “And we were not presented at Vauxhall. We were both masked, and he asked me to dance.”
To his frustration, he could make no immediate reply to that and had to wait before voicing his protest. “You accepted to dance with a fellow you did not know?”
“Why, yes.” Lady Camilla gave him that same enigmatic smile. “That is how masquerade balls function, you see. We dance with people we do not know. Or at least we cannot be sure whether we know them.”
He was once again obliged to wait before speaking.
“And here I was attempting to protect your younger siblings from all of Vauxhall’s vices, while you were partaking in them.
” He had meant those words in a humorous vein, but the effort fell short.
It came out as a reproach which provoked an uncharacteristic crease between her brows.
“I am sorry you feel yourself to have wasted time on my siblings, my lord.”
They separated as they moved to the end of the line, the dance came to an end, and he was bowing before her. “No, it is not that. I cannot regret how I spent my evening. I am just surprised by your revelation. But I suppose I have no claim over you.”
“Precisely.” This time she smiled more softly. “Shall we have something to drink?”
“Yes, you must be thirsty.” He uttered the words by rote, but he was far from feeling in his element. Usually he was the one to propose refreshments to a partner, and he was the one to be reproached by some discontented female. It was not the other way around.
By the time they reached the table of refreshments, he suggested they go and join Sophia and Felix.
She agreed to it, and he led her in that direction.
He would see how she behaved in her sister’s company and fully expected to find the Camilla he was accustomed to.
Surely she could not have changed that much.
“Pembroke, I see you are dancing tonight instead of hiding in the card room,” Felix said. “You must have set many a heart beating, for the maidens will now hope to receive an invitation from you as well.” He was teasing, but Rowe had no humor for it.