Chapter 22 #2
“Good afternoon, Lady Camilla.” The look he then turned to Mr. Laverock was a hard one. “Afternoon, sir.”
With noticeable hesitation, Mr. Laverock returned the greeting.
Lord Pembroke was uncharacteristically hostile, and Camilla was at pains to understand it.
Apparently she was not alone in wondering, since Mr. Laverock left off his usual social niceties and waited for the earl to express whatever it was he wanted.
After an awkward silence, Pembroke touched his hat. “Well, I shall not keep you.”
He rode on, and Camilla knit her brows as Mr. Laverock watched him go. “Pembroke did not seem to be in an amiable mood today. Do you know what to make of it?”
“No. I am as confused as you are,” she said.
“Well, we will not allow him to ruin our afternoon, will we?”
“No, we will not.” The carriage jerked forward, and she played with the edge of her glove, wishing she were not riding with Mr. Laverock after all, but not knowing with whom she wished to ride instead. It was not Lord Pembroke.
“You seem uncommonly quiet today, my lady.”
“I apologize.” She looked up with a smile as guilt tapped at her. “I suppose I had thought a carriage ride to be just the thing I needed, but my fatigue seems to be greater than I anticipated. My family and I rode to Hampstead yesterday, and it was a long day.”
“I am sorry to hear you are feeling tired. Shall we turn back?” he asked with careful courtesy.
Camilla paused. The polite thing would be to say no and that they might continue on, but she suddenly wished to be alone, far from him and from everyone. Ideally in her bed under her counterpane. “Yes, I think it is perhaps better to return. I am sorry to be disobliging.”
“Not at all,” he replied with what sounded to her ears like forced gaiety. He turned the carriage to enter the road which ran parallel to Rotten Row. “We will return this way.”
She didn’t answer but felt his weighted look from the side and chastised herself for being so discourteous. After a brief pause, he spoke again in a hearty tone that did little to add to her comfort.
“This is a difficult subject to bring up when you are feeling under the weather, but I am hoping its essence will turn your mind in a more cheerful direction.”
She looked at him curiously, wondering what he could possibly be referring to. His smile appeared strained and she suddenly knew.
“I have long been an admirer of yours, Lady Camilla.”
Her heart sank. She had hoped to avoid such a declaration and been lulled into thinking it would not come so soon.
Certainly not today. Was she so dense that she could not see when an unwelcome proposal was about to occur so that she could avoid it?
Should she never accept to ride with a gentleman again?
Whether it was the proper thing or not, she would not make the same mistake as Mr. Islip and allow him to lay out the entirety of his proposal, only to have her reject him.
“Mr. Laverock, I have greatly appreciated our time becoming better acquainted,” she began.
He responded with a broad smile. “I must say how relieved—nay, how delighted—I am to hear it.”
“I have not finished,” she said quickly and, gathering her courage, forged on. “I am not in any way interested in a connection with you that goes beyond mere friendship.”
He was silent for so long, the air between them began to feel awkward. Dreadful. She forced herself to look at him. The quick glance was enough to inform her that the muscles in his jaw had gone tense.
“I see.” He picked up the pace, urging his horses forward, until he was going at a sharp trot down the road.
Camilla held on to her bonnet, wondering at his silence, and slightly ill at ease. She was not precisely afraid of being driven quickly but only when she knew the capacity of the driver.
“I wish you will slow down,” she ventured.
“As a gentleman, I am honor-bound to accompany you home, but to do so, requires sitting with a woman who has just rejected me. It is very unpleasant, I will have you know,” he spat out. “And I am attempting to get the business done with as quickly as possible.”
“Mr. Laverock, I assure you, there is no need to take me all the way to my house. I am capable of walking.”
“What? Leave you unescorted and risk having you accosted by some man with no scruples who chances by? Everyone will say I have behaved villainously toward you if they hear of it.”
Camilla wondered whether that would be worse than sitting prisoner in a carriage driven by a man whose temper was raised as soon as his will was crossed.
She insisted a second time in a calm voice.
“There is no need to go on at this pace. If my company is so disagreeable, you must simply set me down.” He did not respond, and just as she began to feel anxious that he might not comply—might not bring her home at all—a welcome sight met her eyes in the distance.
It was Pembroke again, riding in the opposite direction and coming back toward them. How had he known she would be here?
“It is Lord Pembroke,” she said. “Why do you not set me down that I may walk with him? He is a family friend, and I will be quite safe in his presence.” Her heart gave a thud inside of her, reminding her that even if her person would be safe, her heart might not.
Mr. Laverock did not look as though he would obey, but at the last minute reined in, as did Pembroke.
“Lady Camilla wishes to walk with you, my lord, if you are at liberty to escort her home.”
“I am absolutely at liberty to do so.” Pembroke swung down from his horse as though he was only waiting for the invitation. He led his gelding over to her and reached up his hand to help her to alight. She did so eagerly and stepped behind the earl, so she was partially shielded by him.
Choosing to be civil, she peered around Pembroke to address Mr. Laverock. “Good day, sir.”
If he returned a response, it was lost in the clatter of the wheels on the road as he urged his horses forward. Then Mr. Laverock was gone, and it was just Camilla and Lord Pembroke. He held out his arm for her.