Page 88 of Yielding to Love

“Lord Stirling, you might want to have your gardener look at the paving stones by the roses.” He indicated his knees. “One of them felled me.”

Philip looked startled. “Major, I apologize. I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“It’s nothing. But if it had been one of the ladies…”

Flushing, Philip stammered another apology. It was unfair of Crispin, so Camellia laughed. Then she slapped her hand over her mouth and continued laughing behind it. When all eyes turned to her, she said, “But you should have seen him. He toppled over like a tree in a strong wind.”

Hazard joined her, laughing at Crispin. Then Alice did too.

“I’m sorry.” Camellia looked to Crispin with a very slight attempt at looking regretful. “I shouldn’t have laughed, but I haven’t felt like laughing in so long.”

There was a glint in his eyes before he turned back to Philip. “It was only my pride injured. And Lady Bod—excuse me, Camellia—is not helping.” Then he laughed too, dispelling any tension. “And I should apologize for bursting in as I did, and insisting to speak with her. I didn’t want to embarrass her, but I fear my attempt at discretion made it worse.”

Camellia could not guess where he was going, so she merely put on a disturbed expression and waited.

“I had a very fine pair of dueling pistols that I accidentally left in Tonbridge with the colonel. I wrote to the cousin—”

“Alexander Pritchard,” Camellia put in. “A dreadful man.”

“Who denied possessing ‘anything that was not his own.’ He intimated that Camellia might have sold them.” Reddening, he appeared sincerely abashed. It was disconcerting how easily he lied. “I didn’t come to accuse her. Only to ask if she might know what happened to them. I would not have blamed her if she had sold them. I left them behind, after all, and they could well have been Neville’s.”

“Had I opportunity, I might well have sold them,” Camellia said. It wasn’t hard to feign anger. “Alexander claimed everything in the house, whether it be Manfred’s or Neville’s.”

A chorus of support arose. Crispin interjected, “Haz, if you are not going to Tunbridge Wells with Alice and her father, would you object to me playing escort?”

Hazard tapped his quizzing glass. Camellia had no time to wonder why Crispin thought Hazard would not escort his own wife, before the man said, “I have no objection if Alice does not. So long as you are not planning to put those dueling pistols to use, should you find them.”

“In truth, I don’t care much about the pistols. I was only going to give them to Jasper as a jest.”

Hazard and Alice laughed at what was evidently a private joke.

“But I may pay a call on this Mr. Pritchard.”

Something in his tone caused a chill to run down Camellia’s spine. Everyone went silent.

Crispin smiled. “Alice, if you would like a companion, may I suggest Camellia? She knows the area well.”

“What are you plotting, Crispin?” Hazard said, narrowing his eyes. “My wife is not one of your pawns.”

Camellia tensed. One of his pawns?

“I’m not plotting anything,” he answered with a touch of offense. “And even if I were, you can’t think I would involve Alice. Especially not—” he halted. “I would not involve Alice. I just thought Camellia might like the opportunity to visit her loved ones’ graves.”

Hazard was still giving Crispin a studying look. Then he let out a long sigh. “I trust you know what you are doing?”

Crispin turned to Alice. “Have you any objection, Alice?”

“Of course not. It will be a great deal more enjoyable with you there. And Camellia, please say you will come, too. I would love to have your company.”

“Well, yes, of course. Thank you.” She tilted her head. “And thank you for thinking of me. You’re very considerate.”

She saw what he had done. He’d raised everyone’s suspicions. But no one knew what they were suspicious of. And no one bothered to question her inclusion at all.