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Chapter Ten
When Cam arrived home from his walk with Hilaria, he was surprised to encounter a flurry of activity in his foyer.
“Eastwood, good, you’re finally home.”
“Mother, I wasn’t expecting you.” He bowed over the hand she imperiously held out to him, but there was little warmth in their greeting. His stomach was sinking. He had known she would come quickly, but this was even faster than he could have expected. Clearly, his mother’s friends’ couriers had been working diligently.
“Did you not receive my message?” She asked the question without bothering to await an answer, turning back to direct his servants. “Just those two need to go to my room, the rest can be sent to my own house.”
Cam did his best not to be rude to his mother, but he couldn’t prevent his eyebrows from rising toward his hairline. “Speaking of your own house, I’m rather surprised to find you moving in here.”
“Well, this did used to be mine, Eastwood, so you needn’t be so starchy about it. Surely, you don’t begrudge your mother some hospitality for a couple days. My servants aren’t nearly as efficient as yours are. You must have kept all the best ones.” Her complaint was petulant, and Cam ignored it.
“Of course, you are welcome here whenever you’d like.” He was lying, but there was nothing else he could say. “I was just surprised, as you haven’t enjoyed my home as much as your own in the past.”
“Well, I suppose you have a point there, Eastwood, but I made such good time getting here that my house isn’t ready for me. It was quite a sudden impulse to come up to Town, and I cannot be expected to stay in an unprepared house.”
Cam bowed again, not bothering to argue with her. It might be to his advantage to have her under his own roof anyway. All the better to make sure she was aware of what he was up to, although there was no doubt in his mind that it was Hilaria that caused her sudden appearance.
“Can I be of service to you, or are my servants taking care of you?”
“Well, they are doing their best, I suppose.”
Cam met his butler’s gaze and smiled at him to take the sting out of Lady Eastwood’s complaining tone. Cam knew with certainty that his servants were efficient and responsive to whatever needed to be done within the household. His mother just liked to complain. She wasn’t happy unless there was something to complain about. It was the strangest quality.
“Will you be resting for the remainder of the day, or have you any commitments this evening? Since you’ve arrived earlier than you expected, you probably haven’t any arrangements.” He could hear the tentative nature of his inquiry and inwardly cringed. Why did he turn into a prepubescent boy whenever he encountered his overbearing mother? He wondered with something bordering on despair.
“Oh no, I have places to be. Provided, of course, that my maid has managed to shake out my gowns sufficiently. I do hope the styles haven’t changed overly. I will have to freshen my wardrobe now that I’m here, but I should be sufficiently supplied for my first couple of days.”
Cam tried not to flinch over the bills that would soon be crossing his desk. It was unfortunate his mother hadn’t seen fit to remarry. But, of course, she, like Hilaria, couldn’t find a suitably well placed gentleman to have her. He bowed again to her as he made his excuses.
“I will allow you to get settled, in that case. Will you join me for supper before you leave for the evening?”
“Of course,” she accepted even as she dismissed him.
Making good his escape to the library, Cam breathed a sigh of relief before taking himself to task. He was a grown man. This was his mother. He ought to be pleased she had arrived safely. And if not that, he ought to be pleased that his plan was obviously working so well that she had arrived even faster than he had anticipated.
Suddenly, Cam wondered if he ought to warn Hilaria of his mother’s early arrival. But there was no way of doing so discretely. Besides, the girl had tried to convince him that she was prepared for his mother’s arrival. He ought to trust her at her word, he reminded himself. She had agreed to their scheme. She would do well.
But why did he keep worrying about it?
Cam pushed his concerns to the side, concentrating instead on the report his secretary had compiled about his tenants’ crops. As he did so, though, at the back of his mind he was remembering when Hilaria had so eagerly asked him about his estate and how he ran it. He had promised to discuss it with her and had then forgotten to bring it up again. She hadn’t either, he tried to console himself, but he also hadn’t taken her driving again. That is when he had promised to discuss it – on their next drive.
With a sigh, Cam put down the pencil he was holding. His concentration was clearly disordered. Perhaps he ought to swing around to one of his clubs, or perhaps go a round with Gentleman Jack, or even find someone to have a fencing match. Surely, the physical activity would straighten him back around to his usual equanimity. He stood decisively to his feet, leaving the house as quickly and quietly as possible. He excused himself that he didn’t wish to disturb his mother but really, he didn’t want her to disturb him.
He was disturbed enough on his own without any more input from her.
He had found multiple partners willing to practice their sword play, and he was sufficiently exercised to feel he could face whatever the evening held as he climbed the stairs to his townhome and asked his servants to order him a bath. It would certainly not do to arrive at the table malodorous.
As he scrubbed the exertions from his flesh, Cam wondered how his mother would bring up the subject of his courtship of Lady Hilaria. He wasn’t left to wonder for long.
“I understand you have been making a cake of yourself over one of the Sherton chits,” she began as the footman served the soup. The servant was the newest member of Cam’s household and hadn’t yet met Lady Eastwood. While Camden was satisfied with the young man’s performance to date, he didn’t appreciate the look of shock spreading across his face nor the way his hands trembled with the hot pot of soup. Another footman quickly took over as the younger one left the room.
“A cake of myself, Mother? Surely not.”
“You wouldn’t believe the number of notes and letters I’ve received on the subject. I have it on very good authority. I’m inclined to think you haven’t yet reached the level of maturity needed to choose your wife. If you will not allow me to do so, perhaps you ought to wait a while before setting up your nursery.”
“What makes you think I’m thinking of setting up my nursery?”
