Page 79 of Yielding to Love

“We are. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Marianne said. Camellia only nodded agreement.

“And I, yours,” the viscountess said. She frowned and focused on Camellia. “I do hope you’ll forgive me my intrusion, but my footman has asked to speak with you. He says it is important, or I would never presume.”

“Important?” she echoed. Her knees weakened. So the footman had named her to the viscountess. But surely he would not spill her secrets here.

“He is not given to impertinence. But if this is too great an imposition, I understand.”

Marianne looked horrified, but Camellia said, “I’ll speak with him if it is important.”

“And private,” the lady said. “Lady Stirling, I have some questions about the orphanage.”

As the two moved away, the footman came nearer. He bowed to Camellia. “My lady, I apologize for my breach of manners.”

“What did you need to say?” He had practically thrown her from the major’s doorstep. She could not possibly be more mortified than to stand here and have him address her.

“The letter you gave me to give to the major—he would not take it.”

Blood pulsed in her neck. “What do you mean?”

“You said it was crucial that he read it. I tried to give it to him. But he…” The man wrung his hands. “I should not be betraying the major’s privacy. And he specifically told me not to say that he was ill.”

“He was ill?” Camellia’s blood chilled.

“I should be sacked for telling you. But yes, he was deathly ill. And drugged with laudanum. I tried—”

“Did he recover?” She couldn’t bear it if he told her that the major, too, had died.

“He did, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “But the letter…he didn’t read it. He had me put it in the fire.”

Camellia caught her breath. If he hadn’t read the letter, he couldn’t have known. “In the fire?” All this time, in her heart, she had been accusing him of dishonor. Of spitefully abandoning his own baby. But he hadn’t known?

Still, he’d burned the letter. Unread. What kind of man would do such a thing?

“Yes, my lady. He wasn’t rational.” He spoke in a rush as though determined to say his piece. “You said it was crucial, and I promised to deliver it. I’m sorry that I could not. Please believe that I have regretted it ever since.” He stared down at his fingers, twisted together. Then he took a step back. His shoulders seemed to relax as though he were free of a burden.

“One moment. You said he recovered. Did he…do you know if he was at Waterloo?”

“He was. I believe he survived. But truly, I should not say more. It is not my place. I merely wanted to confess that I failed to honor my promise to you.”

She nodded. Thoughts and emotions crowded her brain, and she couldn’t sort them. She managed, “Thank you for telling me.”

He bowed and retreated quickly. The major hadn’t known about their son. She walked the short distance to Marianne and Lady Haslet in a haze.

“Thank you, my lady,” Camellia said.

A smile of relief crossed the viscountess’s face. “Oh, is it settled then?”

“Yes.”

The lady reached out and pressed her hand. “Then I am glad. Marianne has asked me to tea next week. I know what a painful time this is for you, but I hope you will join us. And that you will call me Alice.” A tiny grin slipped onto her face as she let go. “My husband is fortunate to be called everywhere ‘Hazard.’ When I complained that I was saddled with an unwieldy title he suggested I go by ‘Hazardess.’”

Marianne laughed. Camellia managed a smile. “Tea at Marianne’s house would be lovely. And please, call me Camellia.”

“Good. Very good.” She brushed her hands together, as if to say that is that.

Marianne said, “This is my carriage. We must go. Until next week?”

They exchanged goodbyes and were helped by grooms into the Stirlings’ coach. As they rode away, Marianne gave Camellia a questioning frown.