Page 56 of Wit, Wiles and Courtship

The next day, after returning from the morning visits with their mother, Camilla sat in the drawing room with Joanna. A book was open on her lap that she was not reading. Hidden in its pages was Lord Pembroke’s card that Turton said had been left for her while they were out.

“You have been silent today, and you were so last night. Are you well?”

Camilla sighed and closed her book. “I suppose the activities of the season are beginning to wear on me.”

“I do not wish to be presumptuous or force a confidence,” Joanna began. She stopped, and Camilla wondered if she knew, suspecting she might before Joanna confirmed it with her question. “Do you and Pembroke have an understanding of any kind?”

“No.” Camilla heard the mournful tone in the one word she uttered.

“Do you have a tendre for him?” Joanna’s earnest look inspired trust, but the history of their sisterhood was not always complicit. It made her hesitate to show any vulnerability.

“It is only recently that we have begun to get on together,” Camilla began, then brought her regard to Joanna’s to see if her sister understood. “Not two years ago, you were still mocking me for my tendency to plumpness.” She stated the fact plainly, waiting to see what Joanna would say. Her sister’s face fell.

“I am sorry. I have no excuse for why I treated you as I did.” They were both quiet, and even the sounds in the house were muted and distant, especially with Evo having left for school again. “I suppose it was our father’s way of speaking, always with sarcasm and belittling each of us. It trickled down in the way we treated each other. At least, that is the only excuse I can offer you besides my apologies. We did not have an example that inspired us to goodness and therefore were not always good.”

“Except Sophia,” Camilla said with a gentle smile.

“Except Sophia,” Joanna agreed.

Camilla decided to answer her truthfully. They needed to put aside who they had been before and trust that they could be made new at any moment—that even their relationships could be made new.

“I do not wish it to be known, although Sophia guessed some time ago and approached me with it then. Dorry doesn’t know, and I’d rather she not, considering that Miles is Pembroke’s cousin.” She paused to catch her breath and damp down the flutter of nerves at her admission. “I do have feelings for him. I suppose I have had since I first met him. Perhaps not in the all-consuming way Sophia had for Felix, but in the way that he seemed to me the masculine ideal. No one else ever measured up to him.”

“I can see what you mean by that. And I will keep your secret,” Joanna promised.

“However, I do not think it wise to continue to wear the willow for him, because I don’t think he will marry. Or at least if he does, it will not be for years and years. I will not wait for him.”

“Why—” Joanna stopped short, likely realizing that the question was a delicate one. She shifted course. “Has he not said anything to you?”

Camilla wouldn’t admit what had happened between them. Not to anyone. It was for her to treasure alone. Or grieve alone.

“He gives me confusing messages. One minute I think he has feelings for me, and they are most pointed. In the next, he is only treating me like a friend, or like the younger sister of his cousin’s wife.”

Joanna considered this. “I do not wish to give false hope and perhaps should not say anything at all. But it does seem to me that this season, he has paid you a particular attention he did not in the last. If you are inclined to hope, I would not give it up too quickly.”

“Thank you.” Camilla sent her sister a warm smile. “I am not sure it will be wise of me to hold out for him, but I do thank you for your encouragement.”

A knock sounded on the front door. Before Camilla could grow nervous wondering if it were Pembroke returning, Turton came in to say that Mr. Laverock had come to ask if they were at home to visitors.

“You may tell him we are at home,” Camilla said after a space. She was far from wishing to spend time with Mr. Laverock, but it might distract herself from thinking of another gentleman.

Mr. Laverock entered the room, offering them a grand smile, boisterous greeting, and a bow to both. He then turned his eyes to Camilla.

“I was hoping, Lady Camilla, that I might induce you to accompany me on a drive to Hyde Park. I know it is a little early for the fashionable hour, but there will still be people about, and I should greatly enjoy your company.”

Camilla did not particularly want to go, but the alternative of sitting at home and ruminating on what had happened the day before was not necessarily better.

“Thank you for the invitation. I will come.” Communicating to Joanna with a look, she left her to entertain Mr. Laverock while she went to get her bonnet and gloves.

Outside, a boy was holding the reins, and Mr. Laverock gave him a coin and helped her into the chaise. As they rode off, Camilla allowed the silence and fresh air to soothe her spirits, and he did not force the conversation. Mr. Laverock steered the carriage through the gates of Hyde Park on to Rotten Row, where there was the occasional carriage or rider to be seen, but it was indeed early for the fashionable hour. It was rather nice to actually see the park and not the people, Camilla thought. Even better if one had the right company.

“I am glad you agreed to my proposal to ride today. ’Tis is a fine day, is it not?”

She agreed and began to relax, grateful that he seemed to have formed no plans of falling at her feet and declaring his undying love—a fear that did not occur to her until she was following him out of the house. Her heart couldn’t take it on that particular day. They continued on, and she made efforts to bury her heavy spirits and carry her end of the conversation.

A familiar gentleman, mounted on a gelding and riding from the opposite direction, came into view. She recognized Pembroke at once and felt a mix of consternation at seeing him here and relief that she was driving out with another gentleman. He pulled on the reins, and so did Mr. Laverock.

“Good afternoon, Lady Camilla.” The look he then turned to Mr. Laverock was a hard one. “Afternoon, sir.”