Chapter 10 #2
Miss Winkley blushed and disclaimed, looking almost alarmed at the idea of Lord Pembroke paying any attention to her at all.
Camilla watched him greet the host and hostess, then pay a most gratifying attention to Bernice.
That courtesy was to his credit, she admitted begrudgingly.
He never overlooked or snubbed someone unless they deserved it.
“You will see how I shall raise you up in Society, so that you make the most splendid match,” Abigail went on quietly.
“You are truly too good, Mrs. Quarles,” the ingenue whispered back.
Camilla had been so interested in this exchange—perhaps because it had to do with efforts to secure Lord Pembroke—that she had nearly put the man himself out of her thoughts until he was bowing before her.
“Lady Camilla, I trust you are prepared to handle your disappointment over losing whatever card game we settle on, for you know I excel at cards.”
“I am not accustomed to disappointment, my lord, for I seldom lose.” She brought her eyes to his. “This will give you the opportunity to practice dignity in defeat.”
“There is no dignity in defeat—at least not that I have experienced.”
“I understand,” she said with an air of faux compassion. “You are unaccustomed to behaving with dignity. Defeat you will soon learn, however.” She experienced a flush of delight when he nearly laughed and had to frown to hide it.
“We shall see.” His look cut into her as he leaned down for her ears alone. “I should have you know I never lose, Lady Camilla.”
Breathless from the interaction, she tried to gather her composure while he greeted the trembling Miss Winkley.
Although he was kind to her, he did not appear markedly struck by her beauty.
That was a satisfying thought—until he greeted Joanna warmly in rather the way he used to greet her. Jovial and smiling.
“Lady Joanna, how delighted I am to see that you’ve joined the party this evening. Are you out this year?”
She shook her head. “I did not wish it. Perhaps next season. When last I saw you in September, you had spoken of your intention to buy a Thoroughbred to add to your stables. Did you find one?”
“Yes, before Christmas. I purchased a handsome gelding from Gerry Wilmot’s uncle. What I think should interest you, however, is the set of matched bays I bought at Tattersall’s a week ago, which are the envy of everyone who has seen them.” There was a twinkle in his eye.
“Indeed! What makes them so?”
The discussion fell into more equine details than Camilla cared to follow. Besides, he had preferred her sister’s conversation to hers, so she need not hang upon his every word. She turned to Bernice and quietly complimented her on the success of having every invitation accepted.
The other gentlemen arrived a short while later, and soon the party was complete.
They were all displaying their best behavior, as if they had no greater joy than to be in attendance that evening, which raised them in Camilla’s estimation.
Perhaps one of them—besides Pembroke—might be a suitable prospect to consider for encouraging a courtship.
Mr. Pollard belonged to Bernice in her mind, though she would not likely have considered him even if he did not.
His features were too commonplace, his demeanor too serious to suit her.
Mr. Weatherby was handsome enough and seemed to possess a genial personality.
It was difficult to discern whether his thoughts ran deeply, for his conversation never rose above commonplaces.
If that was all there was to him, she could not consider him in the light of a husband.
Mr. Wilmot was cheerful and the most like Lord Pembroke in character.
But she simply did not know him or any of them well enough.
Servants brought drinks to the guests who sat or stood in pockets around the room.
None had as yet sat down at the green baize tables laid out.
Camilla had never met Abigail’s husband before, and she eyed him curiously now.
He had certainly been considered a catch last year when one examined his wealth and position.
However, he seemed less like a man newly wed and in love, and more like a husband who had married with cold purpose, for he showed signs of impatience with his wife.
Camilla knew a marriage like this was not something she wanted.
“Mr. Quarles, we are glad that your plans have changed and that you could join us.” Lady Milton went to the side of the room, where he seemed to be brooding, and brought him to the center.
“I am sure you were relieved, as well, for you must not like to be separated from your bride so early in your marriage.” As this was rather unanswerable, he replied what was expected of him in an expression that looked less than pleased.
Lady Milton turned to the guests. “We have the tables set out for whist, although we also have piquet cards if it should suit some of you to play in pairs.”
“I am sorry,” Miss Winkley was heard to say, though it had been meant for Abigail’s ears. “I am not skilled at whist.”
Mr. Pollard was the first to speak. “I think many of us will be just as happy to play commerce, if that suits you, Miss Winkley.”
Bernice had appeared happy when he arrived.
She was looking her best, with a becoming gown of pink crêpe that brought color to her cheeks and which fit her beautifully.
But her lips straightened at his show of gallantry, and Camilla suspected her tendre for Mr. Pollard was suffering a check.
She could readily understand her, for few could compete against a girl as lovely as Miss Winkley.
“Miss Milton?” Mr. Pollard now turned to Bernice. “What would you enjoy playing?”
Bernice went pink and her smile reached her eyes. “I think commerce is an excellent idea, for it does not require any skill and is fun besides.”
Camilla exchanged a glance with Joanna and guessed from her keen look that she had understood the subtleties of the exchange. Bernice was smitten, and her case did not seem hopeless. She was happy for her.
“And I will not disappoint any partner,” Miss Winkley said modestly.
“I cannot think you would disappoint any partner, for they have only to look at how lovely you are,” Abigail said with a titter. “Do you not think so, Mr. Pollard?”
“Hm?” Mr. Pollard wrenched his eyes away from Bernice and settled them on Abigail. He looked confused and tried to respond becomingly. “Why, of course anyone here must be delighted to have you as their partner.”
“Then you shall have her,” Abigail crowed. “I hereby declare Mr. Pollard and Miss Winkley to be partners for the evening.”
Joanna’s eyes narrowed at such obvious petty behavior, and Camilla began to suspect Abigail had invited a lovely woman for no other purpose than to draw away any attention her own sister might receive.
Like bringing a honey pot to attract every winged creature.
The only consolation was that Miss Winkley did not seem so unkind.
Camilla was angry on Bernice’s behalf. “There is more to a woman than her appearance,” she muttered under her breath. Pembroke had been standing beside her and he heard.
“I agree with you, Lady Camilla.”
She glanced quickly at him. Neither his tone nor expression held any mocking, but for reasons she could not explain to herself, she was unreasonably cross with him.
“Is that so? And yet, you always seem to set a great store by a pretty face, given how you flit from one to another at Society events.”
The words were out, and it was too late to retract them.
His face took on an expression of faint surprise, and she feared the look of hard irony that would follow.
Besides the fact that it was extremely improper of her to comment on any tendency he might have with the fairer sex, she had revealed her jealousy.
The hard look never came. Instead it was something akin to curiosity.
“You speak as though you have been observing me.” Suddenly a flash of his teasing returned, as if he wished to lift the heavy curtain that had come between them. “Have you been observing me, Lady Camilla?”
She would have apologized for her lapse had he not gone on to tease her. To do so now would bring the serious tone to the conversation back.
“I observe you as much as I might any other gentleman,” she assured him. “You must not imagine I am studying you any more than any other specimen of your race.”
His regard held, and she felt his lurking smile underneath. To her frustration, she wanted to smile back. Then he cut through the rumble of various conversations to address the crowd.
“Well, Mr. Pollard will have to enjoy the opportunity to partner with Miss Winkley at another time, for I do believe a game of commerce will permit everyone to play, and at any skill level.” He smiled at Bernice. “And, of course, it needs no partners.”