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Chapter Sixteen
After more bantering and an entirely far too enjoyable afternoon, Cam finally returned Hilaria home and returned to his own house to catch up on his responsibilities before making the social rounds that evening. It was a shock to encounter his mother immediately upon entering the front door.
“Where have you been?”
Cam kept his calm veneer as he removed his hat and gloves, handing them to a waiting footman. It was on the tip of his tongue to question why his mother was once again in his home, but he wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation.
“I was out for a drive,” he managed to reply without growling or insulting her.
“With the Sherton chit?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Cam wasn’t going to lie, and there was nothing shameful about his afternoon’s activities, whatever his mother might think.
“You’re making a mistake, Eastwood.” His mother’s tone sounded ominous and almost threatening.
“No, Mother, I’m fairly certain it is you who is making the mistake. If you have any interest in developing a relationship of any sort with future grandchildren, it would be in your best interests to maintain at least a veneer of pleasantries with their parents.”
Lady Eastwood stared at him while her expression shifted between thinking he had lost his mind and realizing he might have a point. She no longer appeared quite so haughty and very obviously had no reply. With a disdainful sniff, she started to turn away, but his words stopped her.
“I’m quite serious, Mother. You have been trying to pressure me into marrying for a few years. Now that I have actually found a young lady who appeals to me, you find fault with my choice. A choice that any other Society matron would consider not only acceptable, but actually commendable.”
“Are you saying you are actually courting the Sherton girl?” Lady Eastwood managed to not sound completely disdainful as she asked the question. “I suspected it was merely a stunt to confound me.”
Cam almost choked on his shock but managed to sound almost bored as he dismissed her words. “The ideas you come up with, Mother, would put my father to the blush.”
Finally, she smiled for the first time since her arrival in his home. “You are right about that.” She sounded delighted that he would say so. “Your father might have been only a viscount, but he was a great man.”
For a moment, Cam felt as though he had wandered into a different world than the one he knew. Perhaps he was still sleeping and this entire day was only in his imagination. His mother’s dissatisfied sigh brought him back to a realization of his reality.
“Your children’s lives would be easier if you marry as well as possible. You know, I’m only thinking of your, and their, best interests.”
Cam stared at her for a moment as he pondered his interlude with Hilaria that day. Her reasons for wishing to wed a duke had been a trifle convoluted, but they weren’t vain or haughty. Perhaps he had been wrong about his mother’s reasons.
“Why are you so convinced that being a viscount is unworthy? You married one yourself.”
“Your father was a lovely man. It was such an unfortunate circumstance that he was merely a viscount.”
“Do you realize how insulting you sound?” He tried to keep accusation from his tone as he asked the question.
She actually shrugged. “I was a daughter of the House of Wexford.”
“I’m afraid you’ll need to provide a little more explanation than that.”
“I could have married royalty.”
“Perhaps. But you didn’t. I am reasonably certain no one forced you to marry my father.”
“But don’t you see? Being Lady Eastwood is not nearly so glamorous as being Lady Barbara was.”
“As a duke’s daughter, you could have retained your address as Lady Barbara.” Cam frowned, confused by his mother’s contradictory expressions. “In fact, given how adamantly you feel on the subject, I’m quite surprised you didn’t.”
“I was young, foolish, and in love. I didn’t want to so insult your father and keep insisting upon my proper address at first.”
“So, you merely insulted him for the rest of his life by looking down your nose at him and his measly rank of viscount.”
“As I said, I was young and foolish and had no idea how terribly important it all was.”
“But really, Mother, it isn’t so very important.” He tried to be kind as he explained it to her. “Do you not realize how very rarified even being a viscount truly is? Yes, I know, there are far more viscounts than dukes, but there are thousands, even millions, of people with no title or lands or wealth. We are blessed in our circumstances and ought to be grateful, rather than wishing for what we cannot have. And I can assure you, I do not covet Wexford his holdings or titles.”
