Page 19 of Wit, Wiles and Courtship

He was once again obliged to wait before speaking. “And here I was attempting to protect your younger siblings from all of Vauxhall’s vices, while you were partaking in them.” He had meant those words in a humorous vein, but the effort fell short. It came out as a reproach which provoked an uncharacteristic crease between her brows.

“I am sorry you feel yourself to have wasted time on my siblings, my lord.”

They separated as they moved to the end of the line, the dance came to an end, and he was bowing before her. “No, it is not that. I cannot regret how I spent my evening. I am just surprised by your revelation. But I suppose I have no claim over you.”

“Precisely.” This time she smiled more softly. “Shall we have something to drink?”

“Yes, you must be thirsty.” He uttered the words by rote, but he was far from feeling in his element. Usually he was the one to propose refreshments to a partner, and he was the one to be reproached by some discontented female. It was not the other way around.

By the time they reached the table of refreshments, he suggested they go and join Sophia and Felix. She agreed to it, and he led her in that direction. He would see how she behaved in her sister’s company and fully expected to find the Camilla he was accustomed to. Surely she could not have changed that much.

“Pembroke, I see you are dancing tonight instead of hiding in the card room,” Felix said. “You must have set many a heart beating, for the maidens will now hope to receive an invitation from you as well.” He was teasing, but Rowe had no humor for it.

Just what he wished for. To be the knight-errant of every woman attending the ball who had the misfortune to be overlooked. But then, he supposed there was no reason he had to stay at the ball after all. “There is time enough for that later. Lady Camilla, shall we have our second dance?”

That night, as Camilla readied herself for bed, she ran the events of the evening through her mind. The most significant of them had happened at the beginning of the ball. She relegated Mr. Islip to the category of acquaintance, for she could not reconcile herself to his style of dancing. Even his conversation left much to be desired. However, she was glad enough to have met and danced with him, rather than occupy a chair on the side of the room.

And Mr. Laverock was an interesting addition to her circle, even if he was not universally liked by men. She would make up her own mind about him. He was a flattering addition to her coterie as well. He had recognized her, had even sought her out. She was surprised he had noticed her at all. When she asked him what had inspired his invitation to dance at Vauxhall, he answered that she had stood out to him with her owl’s feathers.

When pressed on how he was able to recognize her again without a costume, he replied that he had been given a glimpse of her hair when her domino had fallen back and had also recognized her form. She did not know how to receive this second piece of information. What did he mean by form? Did he distinguish her because she was larger than everyone else? But then, he could not have been very put off by her form, since he had decided to approach her again. She could not make heads or tails of his intentions.

Despite her confusion over his motives, he was an amusing gentleman. Easy to converse with, able to make her laugh, and pleasing to look upon. It had felt like a coup. But the greater triumph was in having resisted Pembroke’s charm. She had truly been able to keep to her decision not to fawn all over him, and she could see that it unsettled him. She must simply hold to her decision where he was concerned.

One thing she was missing at these balls was a friend. Dorothea had begun her season friendless but quickly managed to make one of Anne. Sophia had Marie Mowbray from Surrey who had been in London with her. And of course, she and Dorry had each other. Camilla had come to the conclusion that Bernice Milton, her neighbor from Surrey, might be her best chance for a friendship in London. After all, they had met on more than one occasion over the winter and conversed comfortably.

Joanna tapped on the door to her bedroom and entered without waiting. “You had better rise. Perhaps there will be callers today.”

Camilla blinked up at her. “It is not like you to anticipate callers. You may be right, but will you be there to receive them with me if there are?”

“Certainly, if you wish it.”

Camilla raised both knees to her chest bringing her blankets with her. “Do you know, I was just thinking that it might be a lonely season having to attend all of the balls on my own.”

“But you are not alone. You have Mama and you have Sophia.” Joanna came and sat beside her on the bed.

“Yes, but it is not the same. They spend their time talking to the married women. I wish I had a friend to stand with me. You will see what I mean when you are out, and will wish for it too.” She laughed suddenly. “However, I will surely be standing beside you next year, since I am unlikely to secure a match in my first season.”

“Why do you think you will not?” Joanna asked.

Camilla was not ready to be so vulnerable, so she settled for a generality. “Many young ladies far more beautiful than I do not find husbands in their first season. It is therefore unlikely that I will.”

Joanna didn’t look convinced, then asked suddenly, “Do you care so much about being married?”

“Well yes, as a matter of fact.” Camilla had always wanted to be married, to be loved, but it wouldn’t do to talk about that. “It is the only path for us women if we don’t wish to end our career as a servant to someone else or living alone as an eccentric.”

“Hm.” Joanna looked down at her fingers. “For all that, I am not sure I wish to marry.”

“Truly?” Camilla could hardly believe it, even coming from Joanna. “Is it because our parents provided such a poor model? You shouldn’t set too much store by it.”

“Partially. And also because I do not want to resign myself to living at home with a packet full of babies while my portly husband goes off to the club to smoke and dine. I think I will go mad with such a life.”

Camilla did not know how to respond. She wanted her sister to find happiness, but knew it was difficult for a lady who wished to swim against the stream. “Well, perhaps you will find a gentleman who wants the kind of life that you do. It is always possible, isn’t it?”

Joanna shrugged. “In any case, it is not something I have to worry about right away. You on the other hand”—she threw the blankets off of Camilla’s legs—“are having your season now. And you must go and eat breakfast and wait for all those flowers to come, as Dorry did in her season.”

“Yes. Though if I remember correctly, the only person to give her any was Miles.”

“She had others, but Miles was the only one she cared about.” Joanna sat on the bed watching Camilla as she went over to the wardrobe. “But I did not ask you how the evening was, and you said nothing about it apart from feeling lonely.”