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Cam’s smile widened. “I didn’t say I wasn’t invited.”
“I was under the impression that you were active in the House of Lords.”
He frowned a little in confusion, prompting her to further explain. “Both my father and Wexford have mentioned that much of their negotiations are done in ballrooms rather than on the floor of the House.”
Cam shrugged once more before catching himself. It wasn’t very eloquent to keep shrugging. He shook his head instead.
“That might be true. And I do try to take my duty seriously. But I cannot be bothered to allow it to drag me into Society. My involvement tends to end with supporting the ideas of others that I consider worthy.”
“The ideas or the people?”
Cam was surprised by the question and the directness of her gaze.
“Do I consider worthy?” he asked, needing to clarify what she was asking. When she nodded, he answered her. “Both, I suppose. But I meant that I would support worthy ideas. Unworthy people almost never come up with worthy ideas.”
Her elevated eyebrows and wry expression made him laugh.
“Are you thinking of my idea? You considered it a worthy idea, but I’m not a worthy person?”
Hilaria smiled but turned away without answering.
“Thank you for the dance, my lord. Perhaps, in the spirit of our cooperation, you might come to collect me for the late supper.”
Cam nodded, confused by her managing ways. She was such a strange mixture of insecurities and competencies. He had to remind himself once more that he wasn’t interested in what was behind it all.
