Page 3 of Wit, Wiles and Courtship

“Even if you have not held your niece above two times, you spend hours practicing for the occasion by holding the cats.”

Joanna scowled at him as everyone laughed.

“It must be Sophia,” Camilla said, turning the conversation from Joanna’s embarrassment. “She is the most devoted at everything.”

“Oh no!” Sophia dipped her head to hide her natural blush. “It is Dorry who is devoted, for she cares for everyone.” Then, in a flurry of confusion, added, “Except that she cannot count since she is the mother and not an aunt.” This statement was met with mirth, although gentler this time. Sophia seemed to inspire that in others.

“Then it must be Camilla,” Evo said, looking at her in a way that warned her of what was coming. She would not be so foolish to ask him why and merely sipped her water.

“You surprise me.” Pembroke brought his napkin to his mouth, his sparkling eyes on her before he spun his gaze over to Evo. “Not that Lady Camilla would be devoted, but that you would notice it.”

More laughter came—it was easy when they were with Miles and his cousin. Camilla remained frozen from the compliment he had paid her, for he had seemed to speak with sincerity.

“It is a hard thing to miss when you see something so out of character,” Evo retorted. “But she is certainly practicing at playing the doting aunt more than anyone. You must know it is only because she is next up for barter on the Marriage Mart.” There it was. Camilla would expect nothing less from Evo, but she refused to be cowed and leveled her gaze on him.

“If qualities can be practiced, Evo, perhaps you might practice at being a gentleman.”

Her comment provoked a bout of laughter close to guffaws, wholly inappropriate for the dining table, but which shot darts of pleasure through her heart. Miles lifted his fork and pointed it at the young earl. “Evo, I recommend against attempting to cross swords with your sister until you have had more training.”

“Even with training, I doubt him skilled enough to break through her guard.” Pembroke raised a glass in Camilla’s direction, and it was all she could do to smile and nod her thanks. The spears of happiness she had felt a moment ago were nothing to this bubble of euphoria inside, and she fought to keep her exhilaration hidden. He had never paid her such an open compliment before. It seemed… Could it be that he had seen her at last?

Chapter 2

The morning light was not yet strong enough to break through the patterned white curtains pulled across the windows. Camilla was awake but too comfortable to move out of bed. Flashes of the dinner conversation from the night before paraded deliciously before her eyes, daring her to believe she had been wrong about Pembroke being completely indifferent to her. After all, he had seemed pleased when she praised him, appreciative when she teased him, and he had defended her against her brother.

From the first time she had met Lord Pembroke at the start of Dorothea’s Season—the Viscount Throckmorton he had been at the time—he had seemed to notice her in a way others had not. Of course, he had only been giving polite attention to a plump, awkward creature, scarcely entered into womanhood. There was not a chance he would have admired her then—but he had noticed her. And he had gone so far as to show her special distinction a number of other times, but it was never enough to let her believe he saw her as anything other than his cousin’s sister by marriage. After all, he had once saved her from disgrace by inviting her to attend the opera under his escort after another gentleman had publicly snubbed her. But then he had spoiled the evening by flirting with each of the ladies who approached him, although Camilla was standing beside Dorothea near enough to witness it.

He had also told her she looked very pretty at a masquerade in Vauxhall but didn’t ask her to dance, though he had asked other women. As he alternated between teasing familiarity, warmth, and indifference, she could hardly believe him smitten. But surely last night gave proof of his altered sentiments, did it not?

Joanna burst into her room with only a semblance of a knock. “Do not tell me you are still sleeping? You must get out of bed. It is looking to be a scorchingly hot day, and we don’t want the horses out once the sun is high overhead.”

“The horses?” Camilla stretched and yawned. “You are worried about the horses being uncomfortable?”

“Of course. What else is there to worry about?” Joanna went over to the wardrobe and opened it in search of Camilla’s riding habit.

“The brown is of a lighter cloth than the gray. Bring me that one.” Camilla rose from her bed and went over to sit before the mirror and pull a brush through her hair. Her sister was shaking out the gown and rambling on about Briar needing to be ridden since she had not gone out in two days. Camilla stared at her reflection only half listening, heartened to see that her face seemed thinner and her eyes larger. In fact, she thought she might almost be declared pretty. Taking herself to task for such vanity, she quickly pinned up her hair in a simple style that would be mostly hidden under her hat until the maid could redo it later.

“I hope you don’t mean for me to ride Briar if she needs to shake out her fidgets,” Camilla replied, knowing that was precisely what her sister meant.

“Well, you cannot ride Flea. You wouldn’t be able to handle him. And I don’t mean for you to ride Basil, for he is a slug and I will have to wait for you, which I don’t intend to do.”

“I am so pleased you’ve asked me to join you,” Camilla remarked drily, allowing her sister to tie her stays before she slipped into her riding habit. She tossed the train over one arm and took the riding crop that Joanna handed her and went over to the door. “At least allow me to swallow a sip of tea and a bite of toast before we leave.”

“Of course. Only do hurry.”

Inside the stables, the groom greeted the sisters, signaling for the stable lad to come and assist him to ready the horses. There were empty stalls where Miles’s hunters usually were. She wondered if Pembroke had gone out with Miles and whether they would meet during the ride.

Joanna’s chestnut gelding was led out first, and she went to his head, running her hand down his nose to greet him. The groom put the bit in the horse’s mouth and with a practiced air, Joanna checked the harness. She led her gelding over to the mounting block, refusing assistance, and leapt nimbly on his back. The stable lad had Camilla’s dark bay mare ready, and she allowed him to assist her to mount, then followed her sister out of the stable. Joanna kept the restless gelding at a steady pace until Camilla was beside her.

She sat straight, her leg curled around the pommel, then leaned forward to stroke Briar’s neck. It was early enough that dew clung to the grass, and the morning air could still be described as fresh. But Joanna had been right in predicting a sultry day, for there were hints of it in the light breeze.

“Shall we pick up our pace?” Joanna called out and spurred her gelding on without waiting for an answer.

Briar was a lady’s horse and served for all of the sisters except Joanna. Still, the mare was accustomed to keeping pace with more spirited horses, and they went at a brisk trot as Camilla breathed in deeply, smiling in contentment. It was indeed a pleasure to be outdoors and to move at a faster pace than a walk could offer. She could even find it in her to be grateful to Joanna for having forced her out. In addition to these pleasant reflections, the flush of triumph from last night danced back into her mind. She had disconcerted Evo, which was no great victory in itself. But Pembroke had praised her aloud, and that was something to celebrate.

Even with training, I doubt him skilled enough to break through her guard.

She did not know how long his stay at Elmscote was to be, but perhaps it would be long enough for his appreciation of her to turn into something deeper.