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The evening was winding down and Mother had shot me multiple loaded glances throughout the past hour which clearly said, “I should like to go home now.”
I did my best to pretend not to see them, thoroughly enjoying the card games and company of my dearest friends. We lost Rosalynn to Lord McGregor not long after she arrived, but Freya and I were able to partner a few times and had since been reunited with our third.
“I haven’t mentioned yet how stunning your gown is,” Rosalynn said, leaning back in her chair slightly to survey me. We had finished a round of cards and lost our fourth player, Cecily, to Mr. Fenton. “Odd choice to pick something so breathtaking for a night of cards. And I don’t believe I’ve seen that necklace before.”
My fingers immediately went to the cameo necklace, and the reason I had chosen my gown—it matched the necklace so perfectly. “It was my grandmother’s,” I said, trying to ignore Lord Cameron’s approach to our table. He pulled out a chair and sat across from me.
“Whist?” he said, beginning to shuffle the cards Cecily had left behind.
Freya leaned forward and picked up my necklace, squinting her eyes and tilting her head slightly. “It is gorgeous,” she said.
“So lovely,” Rosalynn agreed.
“Aunt Georgina gave it to me.” I picked up my cards and began to sort them into proper order. “I’m not sure if my father even knew of it before.” In fact, he probably still didn’t, since he chose not to accompany us that evening in lieu of a night at his club. Again. But I kept that to myself.
“Did he not know her well?”
I glanced up from my cards to see what Lord Cameron had played. “She died on the day of his birth.”
“Tragic,” Freya said sadly. “I cannot imagine not knowing one’s mother.”
“I very well could,” Lord Cameron said wryly.
Rosalynn shot him a glare. “You speak as though Mother is a nuisance.”
“No, darling Rosie.” He leveled her with a look. “She would have to be around much to earn that title.”
“Of course she is not around much,” she snapped. “And do you blame her?”
Freya shot me a discreet look and I played my turn, hoping for the conversation to shift with it. I was not in luck.
Lord Cameron’s mouth hung slack, his eyebrows inching higher. “You think her blameless?”
Rosalynn straightened her already perfect posture, her gaze trained on her cards. “I find I can sympathize with her, yes.”
He laid his cards on the table, not heeding the need for secrecy. Standing up, he did not take his eyes from his sister’s face. “We shall never agree on this subject and I will ask you to complete your business and be ready to leave when our carriage is brought around.”
He strode out the door in long, fluid motions, Rosalynn staring after him as though he’d gone mad.
Perhaps he had.
“What was the meaning of that?” Freya asked, braver than I.
Her gaze remained fixed on the door while she answered the question softly. “My mother has left for home, putting my brothers in charge of squiring me about for the remainder of the Season. Evidently, Cameron is bothered by the responsibility.”
Lord Cameron had escorted Rosalynn to more functions so far than her mother had, so that was not entirely believable. I had only seen Lady Clifton a handful of times, myself, the majority of those in her own home. The root of their disagreement clearly had something to do with their taking sides. Though I’d no idea what it could be about.
Freya wrinkled her softly freckled nose. “I was under the impression that he enjoyed social activities.”
“They are a necessary evil,” she countered. Standing, she dropped her cards on the table and exhaled in frustration. “I suppose I must obey.”
She left to take leave of Aunt Georgina and I stood. “Would you like more lemonade?” I asked Freya.
She glanced up from collecting the cards. “Yes, I would.”
A footman, standing at the ready, poured the beverages and I took them, narrowly avoiding dropping them when I turned around and nearly ran into a man’s black jacket. “Forgive me,” I said, hurriedly setting the glasses on the table and pulling out my handkerchief to wipe the drops of lemonade that sprinkled his jacket.
“It is nothing,” Lord Cameron said, immediately stepping out of my reach.
My cheeks went hot and I slipped the handkerchief back into my reticule. Why had I attempted to wipe the man clean? I could not believe I had touched him like that.
“I apologize,” he said, his voice oddly formal, “for the outbreak a moment ago. It was uncivilized.”
“I do not find emotion uncivil, Lord Cameron. We all feel it, even when we’d rather not.”
His gaze focused on me and I felt the odd sensation that he knew my mind. I stepped back slightly and he opened his mouth to speak, only to clear his throat and glance away instead. “Nevertheless, it was impolite.”
I had no response for that. I could not contradict his truth, but was it equally crass to admit it had not bothered me?
Picking up the lemonade glasses again I prepared to turn away when a sharp elbow in between my shoulder blades shoved me forward and the contents of both glasses arched in the air and landed squarely in Lord Cameron’s face.
Sputtering, he wiped at his eyes with his fingers while I pulled my handkerchief out again and pushed it into his hand. He seemed to jump at my forceful connection, but I did not care. For all I knew the lemon was severely burning his unopened eyes. I would not be responsible for blinding a lord.
He wiped at his eyes, producing his own handkerchief when mine grew sodden. By the time he finished his ministrations, I became aware of the distinct quiet in the room and all eyes on me. A slow blush crept up my neck and into my cheeks when Lord Cameron met my gaze.
He seemed disturbed, though not upset. He appeared frustrated, but not angry with me. I could not quite understand how I had reached that conclusion and even when he turned to listen to the footman who came to probably tell him his carriage was waiting outside, I could not tear my eyes away from him. He gave me a slight nod, smiled genially to the room at large and then swept out the door, Rosalynn soon behind him.
“We are leaving now,” Mother said into my ear between clenched teeth. I startled softly and then meekly followed her from the room, keeping my gaze lowered, careful not to draw further attention to myself.
In the carriage on the way home, mother spoke softly into the darkness. “I cannot wait to see what is said about you in the papers tomorrow.” She sighed, long and drawn out. “Or perhaps it is better left unknown.”
“It was hardly my fault someone bumped into me,” I defended.
Mother was unconvinced. Shaking her head, she muttered, “I just don’t know what we are ever going to do with you.”