Page 17 of Wit, Wiles and Courtship

“Do introduce me to this enchanting creature you are standing with.” He smiled, which only increased his attractiveness—and Camilla’s surprise at his noticing her at all.

“Ah. Mr. Laverock.” Her partner didn’t appear pleased to have been obliged to make the introduction. “Allow me to present to you Lady Camilla Rowlandson, sister to the Earl of Poole.”

“Lady Camilla, is it?” Mr. Laverock said, as though committing it to memory. She had the strangest feeling that she had seen him before, but she would most certainly have remembered him if she had.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Laverock.” She dipped into a curtsy, pleased at his attention—at the combined attention of two gentlemen paying her court. Across the room she caught sight of Pembroke and could not help but to look at him. He stood beside another gentleman, watching her.

Mr. Islip dismissed Mr. Laverock with a polite bow. “As a matter of fact, we are about to join this set. Will you excuse us?”

“Only if you will promise me the next one,” Mr. Laverock said, addressing her.

“Certainly,” Camilla replied, bemused. Why had he singled her out? He expressed his pleasure before leaving, and she turned inquiring eyes to Mr. Islip.

“I know Mr. Laverock from the clubs and would put you on your guard. Though he is accepted everywhere, there is a whiff of scandal about him.” Mr. Islip led her into the center of the floor. “Nobody knows where his wealth comes from, though there are hints of winning it on a turn of the cards. I am only sorry I was obliged to make the introduction.”

“I see.” Camilla glanced after Mr. Laverock, then turned her attention back to her partner. She didn’t think it proper of him to speak that way about another gentleman. It was not as though it was his place to warn her against an imprudent connection. “Well, there is no harm in partnering with him for a dance.”

The music started, and he bowed with a noticeable flourish, his arm in front of him. The gesture caught her by surprise, and she had to suppress her laughter. He didn’t appear to notice, and assured her, “Now that you are forewarned, you will be perfectly safe.”

The lively manner in which he danced the jig called attention to them both. Clamping down the urge to laugh, she tried to match his enthusiasm without reaching his level of theatrics. Too little, and the disparity would be noticeable. Too much, and she would look as ridiculous as he. My, but it took one’s breath away to dance with such vigor. When the steps brought her again in the direction of Pembroke, she found him watching her still. Only this time he seemed to be laughing. The fact irritated her to no small degree, and she turned her attention back to her partner, who smiled in all readiness to extend his compliments.

“You dance very well. You seem to enjoy the livelier sets, as I do,” Mr. Islip said.

Nothing was further from the truth. Camilla attempted to catch her breath enough to speak. “Quite. The livelier, the better,” she fabricated. A stitch began to form in her side.

For the rest of the dance, she did not even attempt to respond to his conversation, nor did he seem to require answers anyway since his were observations rather than questions put to her. When the first dance mercifully came to an end, she was thankful to make her way to the side of the room—and even more thankful when he proposed they take a glass of refreshments.

“I am not often blessed with such a delightful partner as you,” he said, as he handed her a glass of chilled ratafia. She took it gratefully. His words caught up to her, and she struggled to understand what had caused him to utter them. She was not delightful; she was not anyone special, and he hardly knew her. Perhaps it was this that caused her to question him.

“I am pleased to hear you say so, Mr. Islip. If you will forgive my plain speaking, for I certainly do not intend to fish for compliments… What is it about me that you admire?

“You are able to hold an intelligent conversation, and you dance well, my lady.”

“But isn’t that what every lady of quality is taught to do?” She smiled to remove any hint of criticism in her voice.

“Not everyone is so skilled in these arts.” He seemed sincere, and it touched her that he had found something in her to esteem. It was unfortunate that he had such a theatrical approach to dancing, for it quite destroyed her comfort. And it was almost time to perform the next act.

The second dance was similar to the first, but she had the element of knowing what was to come and bore it better. Breathless at the end of it, she was smoothly passed into the hands of her next partner with the whispered admonition of, “Remember what I told you.” She did not acknowledge it.

Mr. Laverock, for all he might have whispers of scandal trailing in his wake, did not have theatrical airs when it came to dancing. The dance was also more sedate, and they were able to carry on a conversation in between turns around other partners. She wished she could ask him why he had singled her out, but she had already been rather too forward in her conversation with Mr. Islip. Instead, she let him lead the conversation and was content to allow silence to settle between them when natural. She should have done more of that with Pembroke when she had still harbored hopes in his direction. Then she wouldn’t have made such a cake of herself, even if it was only in her own eyes. After all, it wasn’t that hard to stay silent.

“Lady Camilla, you will wonder at my seeking an introduction so pointedly,” Mr. Laverock said, calling her back to the present.

“I did wonder at it, for you do not seem on close enough terms with Mr. Islip to have requested it. Besides, his standing at my side made it clear we were engaged for the next dance.”

“You are very right,” Mr. Laverock acknowledged. “But I did not wish for him to have all of the luck where charming dance partners are concerned.”

They were separated by the steps, so she was not able to satisfy her curiosity immediately. As soon as she was given the chance, she did so. “It is kind of you to say, but you could hardly have known how charming a dance partner I could be since we have never danced together, nor even met.”

“Ah, now that is where you are mistaken.” Mr. Laverock’s laughing eyes brought out her smile, though she knit her brows. Whatever could he mean?

“Am I? I cannot hazard a guess as to when we might have.” As soon as she spoke the words, she inhaled sharply with her answer and looked at his eyes more closely. There had been a masquerade ball in Vauxhall at the end of last season, and she had danced with an unknown gentleman in a loo mask and domino who could only be distinguished by his voice, his stature, and his eyes. The latter bore a marked resemblance to the man now standing before her.

“You are correct, Lady Minerva,” he replied, addressing her by the character she had assumed at the masquerade. “Now we have met face to face, allow me to tell you what an enchanting one you have.”

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.