Chapter 22
To Camilla’s relief, her unescorted, and very likely disheveled, entrance brought forth no comment other than from the twins who asked if she had found the last token.
She held it up with feigned triumph as if she was concerned only with that.
“I have it. I went ahead of Lord Pembroke because his wet boots are troubling him.”
Tom inhaled with reverence as he took it from her and showed it to Henry then lifted it high. “Rafe, does that mean we win?”
Evo and Freddie ran into the room at that moment, and on their heels was Joanna. Tilly, Sophia, and Felix came two minutes afterwards.
Rafe glanced at Evo and Freddie before turning back to Tom. “Yes, you have won.” He turned to the room at large. “I declare Lord Pembroke’s team the winner of the Beechcroft Scavenger Hunt.”
The twins gave a loud cheer, their blankets slipping from their shoulders, and Mr. Moffat smiled at them with pride. Lady Mary went to pull the blankets back up again and came over to Camilla.
“It seems odd that Pembroke stayed behind just because of a pair of wet boots. He is not one to let such a trifle deter him.” Lady Mary stopped short of inquiring for details, but it was clear she suspected something and was searching for answers.
“With every step, his boots squelched,” Camilla explained, determined to stick to this story.
“I am afraid he is likely to have blisters after today,” she added, feeling that although she was inventing excuses for him, this detail at least was probably not far from the truth.
The actual truth was not something she would share with anyone, much less his sister.
“Well.” Lady Mary looked fondly at her sons who continued to rejoice over their win, waving a hastily made certificate that boasted their accomplishment. “Pembroke is a most devoted uncle. He did not spare a thought for his Hessians when his nephews were in danger.”
“Very true,” Camilla said, allowing Lady Mary to have her moment’s admiration for her own brother. It would do good for their relationship.
When at last Pembroke appeared at the entrance and strode into the drawing room, she succeeded in evading him by placing herself in situations where he could not easily apply to her for conversation.
She did not want him to have access to her, nor did she wish to explain herself until she could have time to think.
But she felt his eyes on her the short time they remained.
On the ride home, Camilla was mostly left to her thoughts.
Everyone was tired and spoke little, even Evo.
That night, dinner was a quiet affair, and she was given a few minutes of simple pleasure in playing with Augusta before her niece retired to the nursery for the night.
Then later in her bedchamber, Camilla sat on her armchair, closed her eyes, and revisited everything that had happened.
Her vision swayed as she remembered him leaning in to kiss her.
The memory of it caused a sensation in her stomach like a carriage going over a hill at a fast pace.
A swoop that almost tickled, like how a bird must feel when it dives down toward the earth, only to tilt up again and soar on a second wind.
The heartbreak of his admission broke the beauty of her happiness and brought its own pain.
He would only marry her for honor’s sake, not for love.
Since she would certainly refuse him if he asked again, he would be free from her.
It was likely Lord Pembroke would never marry, she thought.
He would never marry her, that was certain.
A man who announced his obligation to marry in a tone that portended doomsday would not ever wish for such a thing.
The next day, after returning from the morning visits with their mother, Camilla sat in the drawing room with Joanna. A book was open on her lap that she was not reading. Hidden in its pages was Lord Pembroke’s card that Turton said had been left for her while they were out.
“You have been silent today, and you were so last night. Are you well?”
Camilla sighed and closed her book. “I suppose the activities of the season are beginning to wear on me.”
“I do not wish to be presumptuous or force a confidence,” Joanna began. She stopped, and Camilla wondered if she knew, suspecting she might before Joanna confirmed it with her question. “Do you and Pembroke have an understanding of any kind?”
“No.” Camilla heard the mournful tone in the one word she uttered.
“Do you have a tendre for him?” Joanna’s earnest look inspired trust, but the history of their sisterhood was not always complicit. It made her hesitate to show any vulnerability.
“It is only recently that we have begun to get on together,” Camilla began, then brought her regard to Joanna’s to see if her sister understood.
“Not two years ago, you were still mocking me for my tendency to plumpness.” She stated the fact plainly, waiting to see what Joanna would say. Her sister’s face fell.
“I am sorry. I have no excuse for why I treated you as I did.” They were both quiet, and even the sounds in the house were muted and distant, especially with Evo having left for school again.
“I suppose it was our father’s way of speaking, always with sarcasm and belittling each of us.
It trickled down in the way we treated each other.
At least, that is the only excuse I can offer you besides my apologies.
We did not have an example that inspired us to goodness and therefore were not always good. ”
“Except Sophia,” Camilla said with a gentle smile.
“Except Sophia,” Joanna agreed.
Camilla decided to answer her truthfully. They needed to put aside who they had been before and trust that they could be made new at any moment—that even their relationships could be made new.
“I do not wish it to be known, although Sophia guessed some time ago and approached me with it then. Dorry doesn’t know, and I’d rather she not, considering that Miles is Pembroke’s cousin.
” She paused to catch her breath and damp down the flutter of nerves at her admission.
“I do have feelings for him. I suppose I have had since I first met him. Perhaps not in the all-consuming way Sophia had for Felix, but in the way that he seemed to me the masculine ideal. No one else ever measured up to him.”
“I can see what you mean by that. And I will keep your secret,” Joanna promised.
“However, I do not think it wise to continue to wear the willow for him, because I don’t think he will marry. Or at least if he does, it will not be for years and years. I will not wait for him.”
“Why—” Joanna stopped short, likely realizing that the question was a delicate one. She shifted course. “Has he not said anything to you?”
Camilla wouldn’t admit what had happened between them. Not to anyone. It was for her to treasure alone. Or grieve alone.
“He gives me confusing messages. One minute I think he has feelings for me, and they are most pointed. In the next, he is only treating me like a friend, or like the younger sister of his cousin’s wife.”
Joanna considered this. “I do not wish to give false hope and perhaps should not say anything at all. But it does seem to me that this season, he has paid you a particular attention he did not in the last. If you are inclined to hope, I would not give it up too quickly.”
“Thank you.” Camilla sent her sister a warm smile. “I am not sure it will be wise of me to hold out for him, but I do thank you for your encouragement.”
A knock sounded on the front door. Before Camilla could grow nervous wondering if it were Pembroke returning, Turton came in to say that Mr. Laverock had come to ask if they were at home to visitors.
“You may tell him we are at home,” Camilla said after a space. She was far from wishing to spend time with Mr. Laverock, but it might distract herself from thinking of another gentleman.
Mr. Laverock entered the room, offering them a grand smile, boisterous greeting, and a bow to both. He then turned his eyes to Camilla.
“I was hoping, Lady Camilla, that I might induce you to accompany me on a drive to Hyde Park. I know it is a little early for the fashionable hour, but there will still be people about, and I should greatly enjoy your company.”
Camilla did not particularly want to go, but the alternative of sitting at home and ruminating on what had happened the day before was not necessarily better.
“Thank you for the invitation. I will come.” Communicating to Joanna with a look, she left her to entertain Mr. Laverock while she went to get her bonnet and gloves.
Outside, a boy was holding the reins, and Mr. Laverock gave him a coin and helped her into the chaise.
As they rode off, Camilla allowed the silence and fresh air to soothe her spirits, and he did not force the conversation.
Mr. Laverock steered the carriage through the gates of Hyde Park on to Rotten Row, where there was the occasional carriage or rider to be seen, but it was indeed early for the fashionable hour.
It was rather nice to actually see the park and not the people, Camilla thought.
Even better if one had the right company.
“I am glad you agreed to my proposal to ride today. ’Tis is a fine day, is it not?”
She agreed and began to relax, grateful that he seemed to have formed no plans of falling at her feet and declaring his undying love—a fear that did not occur to her until she was following him out of the house.
Her heart couldn’t take it on that particular day.
They continued on, and she made efforts to bury her heavy spirits and carry her end of the conversation.
A familiar gentleman, mounted on a gelding and riding from the opposite direction, came into view. She recognized Pembroke at once and felt a mix of consternation at seeing him here and relief that she was driving out with another gentleman. He pulled on the reins, and so did Mr. Laverock.