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Chapter Four
Cam kept the corner of his eye trained on his companion even as he feigned paying attention to his servant guiding his horses skillfully through the traffic in the popular park. Hilaria didn’t seem overly impressed with his knowledge of the meaning of her name. But surely she was used to people remarking upon it. Hilaria was far from a common name, after all. And she really hadn’t struck him as the cheerful sort upon early acquaintance. The sour expression upon her face at the moment led him to think his first impression had been far more accurate. Still, he hadn’t hated their time together that afternoon. But her disposition reassured him that he had chosen wisely when he had thought of her for his scheme.
The fact that he wouldn’t hate the time they spent together was just the bright side of an awkward situation. He couldn’t wait for his mother to find out.
Camden Eastwood was well aware that he was unnatural toward his mother. While most gentlemen were uncomfortable with their mother’s interference, he didn’t know of any that would actively scheme against their mother. But none of his acquaintances had a mother like his. The fact that he had reached adulthood with only a slightly twisted view of the world was in no small part due to Wexford’s mother, not his own. His cousin’s family had made him very welcome in their home, and he had been able to witness a healthier mother-son relationship than the one he experienced. Of course, according to Lady Eastwood, he should have been Wexford. But she clearly didn’t understand biology or inheritance laws, Cam thought with an inward smirk.
He realized he had become lost in his own thoughts when the silence had stretched for some moments. Cam was surprised the lady didn’t chatter. He glanced at her again as soon as they had manoeuvred through the main entrance gate. She didn’t appear dismayed or anything. In fact, she was wearing an almost completely neutral expression. It was strange. Perhaps she was slightly unhinged as he had originally suspected.
“You didn’t tell me which balls or entertainments you would be attending this week,” he reminded her.
“Didn’t I?” she asked with a blink. “My apologies. I’ll try to remember.”
Cam couldn’t interpret her expression, but the pink staining her cheeks led him to believe she was embarrassed, but he couldn’t fathom why. He had forgotten about his question of their whereabouts, too, as the conversation had steered itself elsewhere. It was nothing to be embarrassed about. Before he could ask her about it, though, she had begun to rattle off a list of balls and routs. He was sure he had received invitations to all of the events she was mentioning.
“I’ll have to write it down, as I surely won’t remember all of that.”
“I’ll make you a list and have it ready for you when you come by the day after tomorrow.”
“I’d rather not wait that long to set our plans in motion,” Cam countered. “Tell me again where you’ll be tonight and tomorrow.”
The puff of air that escaped her audibly could have been a sigh or a laugh, Cam wasn’t as experienced with females as he had thought and couldn’t interpret what this particular one might be demonstrating or hiding. When he glanced at her, she was watching him through a slightly narrowed gaze, as though trying to understand him. Before he could question her about it, she began to recite her schedule once more, slower this time and a much shorter list.
“Very well, save me a waltz tonight. That will give us the most visibility.”
Again, her cheeks heated. This time, though, she didn’t leave him wondering what she was thinking.
“Are you any good as a dancer, Eastwood? We have never partnered before. I have no intention of telling my family that this is a ploy of sorts. They would never believe I would allow a bad dancer to court me.”
“Well, it’s good to know your family is well aware of your shallow standards.”
Cam grinned when the girl at his side actually snorted.
“They are aware,” she replied with a curious inflection in her tone, as though she weren’t convinced completely of their awareness.
“Why aren’t you going to tell them? Wouldn’t it be better to manage their expectations?”
“If your plan works, it won’t matter. If it doesn’t, I would prefer that no one was ever the wiser. So, you had best keep it to yourself as well.”
“Of course. It wouldn’t do to have my mother hear of it. That would completely defeat the purpose.”
“My thoughts exactly,” she replied with a satisfied tone. Silence arose between them once more for a time. Suddenly, they were back in front of her house, and Cam was surprisingly disappointed to part with her. He dismissed the thought and reminded himself it was just a relief that she wasn’t the worst companion ever. He had committed to spending considerable time with her for at least the next week or two; it was good it wouldn’t be completely dreadful.
“I will see you tonight at Chorley Park,” he murmured to her as he handed her down from his carriage.
The rapid blinking of her gaze puzzled him, but she quickly recovered herself and nodded.
“Very well, my lord, until tonight, then.” And without a backward glance she hurried into her house.
Camden sat and stared as the door closed behind her, surprised by a touch of pique that she hadn’t looked back. With a shake of his head, he rejected the silly notion and urged his driver to take him home. He couldn’t bear to sit in the antiquated carriage any longer now that he was alone. And there was paperwork to be seen to before his evening’s activities. His mother might look down her nose at the viscountcy, but he had plenty of property and investments to see to. Besides, she didn’t mind the allowance that was allotted to her.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and before he knew it, his valet was holding a pile of neck cloths at the ready for him, watching anxiously as Cam concentrated on the intricate knot he was attempting. Every time he thought of Hilaria’s derisive stare at his attire that afternoon, it felt as though every finger turned into a thumb, and he couldn’t for the life of him achieve his usual style. With a muttered epithet, he hurled the crushed fabric across the room and accepted another strip from the valet.
“Perhaps you ought to allow me, my lord,” the valet offered hesitantly.
“One more try, Albert. I should be able to do this. I’ve managed plenty of times before.”
“It seems to me that you are preoccupied.”
