Chapter 11 #2
Camilla left the card party prey to mixed feelings.
On one hand, she had put Lord Pembroke in his place, and she was delighted with herself for her timely repartee.
However, she also had to own that he had won the bigger hand and the bigger display of wit.
He had also won points for causing her mask to slip when he leaned in to whisper in such an intimate way into her ear.
How could she not be affected by his nearness, which was all masculine scent and strength?
It was unfair, because he had not seemed affected by her at all.
Going forward, she had one choice before her, and that was to fix her mask firmly back in place and parry more efficiently, so he did not get through her guard again.
During the course of the party, Mr. Weatherby, his eyes directed to Miss Winkley, extended a general invitation for a day-long picnic at Beechcroft, his grandmother’s house in Hampstead.
He promised such treats as boating and archery, declaring that his grandmother longed to have young people about her and would provide everything needed for their pleasure excursion once they arrived.
He would find out when such a picnic would be possible.
Camilla had not really made much effort to distinguish Lord Pembroke’s friends before the card party, not having had enough occasion to do so.
She had seen that Mr. Pollard was rather shy, and showed pointed interest in Bernice.
As such, she must approve of him. Throughout the evening, she observed that Mr. Weatherby, who seemed rather serious, had a good laugh when he employed it and didn’t mind when people laughed at him.
And Mr. Wilmot, whom Pembroke called “Gerry,” was carefree and ready to engage in any lark.
Although she still thought he was the most like the earl, a bit in looks and much in temperament, she had no problem distinguishing the two of them, for Mr. Wilmot lacked that kind consideration Pembroke had when he was not breaking young ladies’ hearts all over London.
Not that he has broken your heart, Camilla.
A week had passed without a glimpse of Lord Pembroke or any of his friends, and it was a relief to be spared his presence.
It was also dull. Evo spent considerable time outside of the home with school friends who were also in London.
This was a first, and from what she could understand, they were engaged in unobjectionable pursuits of pleasure.
She was glad of it, for he was usually lonely when on break, and that only caused him to get into mischief.
Joanna still rode every morning with a groom in attendance, but she was spending more time with Tilly.
As for their mother, it seemed that Lady Poole had become a veritable socialite.
Her face had filled out in a lovely way and no longer looked haunted, and she occasionally went on social visits that did not include her daughters.
Camilla decided to bring the matter up when they were on their way to Almack’s.
“Mama, I wished to tell you that I find you to be in good looks lately. And you seem to be happy.” She stopped, glancing at her mother in the carriage, hoping her mother would explain what had changed.
“Thank you, my dear.” Lady Poole wore a becoming cap and a rather modish spencer.
Her hair had thinned but had been styled in a newer way with those shorter strands curled on the sides of her face that Camilla had not dared to attempt.
The whole presented a lovely image of one who—although having left youth behind—was still beautiful for her age.
Her mother smoothed her glove with her other hand.
“I am happy, although I had long since given up hope for such a thing.” She glanced anxiously at Camilla.
“I do not mean to say that I have been unhappy to be your mother. That is quite an honor. To have six healthy children is rather wondrous.” Camilla reflected on this and agreed it was indeed wondrous that her mother had brought six children into the world.
“When I was young, I remember you, or perhaps it was Father, declaring you were not strong, but I believe you were stronger than any of us thought,” Camilla said with an encouraging smile. “It is not every mother who can deliver so many children into the world and survive the ensuing chaos.”
“And chaos we knew.” Lady Poole chuckled, then her look turned thoughtful.
“But now, two of my daughters are happily settled with good husbands who treat them well. I own that I was concerned for Sophia with how shy she is. I feared she would never entertain a suitor or be able to return him an answer.”
“I am very happy for them.” In the pause that followed, a twinge of nerves seized Camilla, for she was about to ask her mother something she had long wished to know. “And do you fear for me? Do you fear I will be unable to make a match?”
Lady Poole brought her face around, surprise showing in her features. “Not in the least. Why, your match should be a simple matter of choosing whichever gentleman pleases you most.”
Now it was Camilla’s turn to stare, and she followed this with a laugh. “Do you think I have so many suitors waiting in line?”
“Do you not? You have Lord Pembroke, and that Mr. Laverock who came to visit. I believe Felix introduced you to Mr. Islip at Lord Wrexham’s party. And from what I hear, Mr. Islip has expressed interest in furthering the acquaintance.”
Camilla heard little of what her mother was saying, for her mind had come to a halt at the first name. “Why do you say Lord Pembroke is a suitor?”
“Oh, you and Pembroke have always had a special understanding, I think. And I’ve seen the way you look at him when he is in the room—and the way he always seeks you out as well.”
Camilla faced forward, hardly daring to breathe. “Lord Pembroke does not seek me out, Mama, I assure you. Or if he does, it is only because he has drawn near to me by accident and is acting in a friendly manner.”
“You may say so. But he does seem to appear in your vicinity by accident often enough.” Lady Poole smiled to herself, and Camilla did not dare to dwell on her mother’s words.
It was hard enough to pretend her former feelings for Pembroke had disappeared, especially when he did such things as he had the night before, whispering in her ear in such an intimate fashion.
They arrived at Almack’s and handed their vouchers before disposing of their cloaks and entering the hall where the dancing would soon begin. Mr. Islip spotted her and made a determined path in her direction.
“And there is one of them now,” her mother said pleasantly, as though Mr. Islip could be placed in the same category as Lord Pembroke.
No, Camilla was not interested in Mr. Islip and was unlikely ever to be. Truth be told, she had not thought of him again since the last time they had met. She had only viewed him as a gauge against Pembroke’s perfections. The way I formerly viewed his perfections, she corrected herself.
“Good evening, Lady Poole,” he said, bowing to the matron first. “Good evening, Lady Camilla. May I engage your hand for the first dance?”
“You may,” she replied, summoning a smile.
Beyond her vision was Mr. Laverock, who had also caught her eye and now dipped his head with a significant smile.
The message was clear. He would be seeking her out as well.
Goodness, the evening was settling into a sense of déjà vu, and still Pembroke had not come.
He likely would not, since he was not interested in marriage, and was it not for that purpose that people came to Almack’s?
She wished someone would challenge him on his stubborn refusal to care about the future of the earldom.
That, and his refusal to honor any of the season’s young ladies with his notice.
In fact, someone should give him a piece of her mind on how capricious a gentleman he truly was.
Maybe you should be the one. After all, you have given him up as an interest in your own right. So you would only be doing him a service—Pembroke, and whichever lady he finally sets his sights on. That would make it a selfless gesture, would it not?
She had no more occasion to give this any thought, for the musicians had finished warming up, and the couples were finding their places on the floor. Mr. Islip had not strayed far and was already bowing before her, ready to lead her out. It was a rather dull beginning to her night.