Page 55 of Wit, Wiles and Courtship

“So your work was half done. That is good.”

“After we spoke,” Gerry continued, “I convinced him to open the budget with his father. Told him it was the only thing to do. Fortunately, he’s not in quite as deep as Miss Eubank has feared. Said he’s out to the tune of twenty-five thousand pounds.”

Rowe whistled, causing Gerry to add, “I should say so. However, he said that for his father, it was only a drop in the bucket. It was the scold he wished to avoid.”

“Then he should avoid being a nodcock,” Rowe said heartlessly.

“Just so. A scold is nothing to family ruin, I reminded him, which will undoubtedly happen if Eubank continues on at this pace.”

“I am beginning to better understand my mother’s reasons for throwing Miss Eubank at my feet if they are as comfortable as that.”

Gerry swiveled on his saddle to study him for a moment. “Change your mind about Miss Eubank?”

With the feeling still so present of Camilla in his arms, the thought of anyone else in her place sent a spirit of revulsion through him. He shook his head. “No. She is not the one for me.”

“Glad to hear it.” Gerry looked up as they traveled once again under the alley of stately linden trees. “For as odd as the request seemed to me, I did meet with Miss Eubank, and I must say that she is a woman of sense and easy to talk to. Easy on the eyes too,” he admitted.

Now it was Rowe’s turn to look at Gerry. “She has enough spirit for you?”

A soft chuckle escaped Gerry’s lips. “Yes, I suppose she does. Oh, it may not seem like much to someone else, but her request for me to grant her an interview was courageous. She confided that she merely wished to spare her father a great shock by learning the worst of it herself first. And she did not ask me for details about her brother that I could not in good conscience give.” He shrugged. “I suppose that’s enough spirit for me.”

“I am glad to hear you’ve had your reward for doing a good deed.” Rowe’s lips quivered in amusement. “I needn’t have sold you my bays after all. Therefore⁠—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence, Pembroke. You will only waste your breath.”

The sounds of Tom and Henry playing, and given the way the coach rocked on its wheels, likely climbing over their parents, emanated from the carriage in front of them. One of the twins—Tom, he thought—peered through the window that faced him and waved. Rowe smiled and used his finger to indicate that his nephew should turn around and sit like a properly behaved young man. The face disappeared, and they rode in silence for a little longer.

“So…wedding plans?” he asked him.

“A courtship,” Gerry said cautiously. “Let us start with a courtship.”

Rowe smiled to himself, thinking it an excellent bit of advice and one he should probably take. The truth of the matter, though, was that he hadn’t the heart to settle for a long courtship. He wanted marriage.

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.