Camilla didn’t contribute much to the conversation during dinner, although her quietness wasn’t particularly noticed because Sophie had so much to say. The czar’s ward’s mood had brightened considerably, and the change heightened her companions’ suspicion that she not only knew William was somewhere nearby, but would also soon see him again. If this was so, and Mary was the lovers’ messenger, Dominic had instructed his man Thomas to follow the maid when she left for the village.
Sophie’s voice tinkled constantly in the elegant dining room, where the pale green walls were painted with white dragons and the table and chairs were richly embellished with bamboo and ivory. French windows opened into the adjoining conservatory, where a billiard table stood among the luxuriant tropical shrubs that flourished beneath the south-facing glass.
Sophie, who looked enchanting in a bluebell satin gown, revealed an unexpected talent for mimicry, especially when it came to mocking the Prince Regent, whose eccentricities made him an ideal target. She hadn’t been at Carlton House for more than a few hours, but had observed him very sharply indeed, much to Dominic’s amusement.
Camilla wished she could join in the humor, but couldn’t shake off the uneasy memories that pervaded everything now Dominic was in the house again. The room was warm, but she felt cold in her thin jonquil silk gown. His closeness affected her, forcing her to recall the good times as well as the bad. She glanced at him as the meal progressed.
The candlelight caught the jeweled pin in his lacy neckcloth, and shone with shades of purple on his indigo velvet coat. His eyes were lazily amused as he smiled at Sophie, and there was little sign of the hauteur and aloofness for which he had recently become known, nor did he seem in the least concerned to be beneath Sir Harry Summerton’s roof once more.
The meal came to an end, but as Camilla and Dominic prepared to adjourn to the drawing room, Sophie held back. “Please may we play billiards?” she asked, glancing through into the conservatory.
Dominic was prepared to humor her. “As you wish, mademoiselle.” He looked at Camilla. “Is that in order, my lady?”
“Certainly, although I will not join you. I—I wish to write to Elizabeth,” she replied as Sophie went eagerly into the conservatory. She didn’t want to write a letter at all, she merely saw an opportunity to avoid his company.
“Ah, yes, the loyal Lady Elizabeth,” he murmured.
“She’s a good friend.”
His blue eyes were disdainful. “There are some things one is better off without, madam, and a friend like Lady Elizabeth Oxforth is one.”
“I’m sure she feels the same toward you, sir.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it, but then she has good reason to be uncomfortable where I’m concerned.”
Irritation flashed through Camilla. “Yet another equivocal remark, sir? I wish you would either explain in full or stop doing it, for I’m getting tired of your continuous mysterious sniping toward Elizabeth, and indeed toward her brother. You’re a guest who has been forced upon me, but that doesn’t mean I’m obliged to put up with everything you choose to say or do.”
“The noble martyr? Is that how you see yourself?” he murmured.
Color rushed into her cheeks. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, sir.”
“And hair shirts are the least becoming form of apparel, madam.” With a cool nod, he went to join Sophie.
Camilla tossed a look of loathing after him, and then gathered her skirts to hurry up to the drawing room.
* * *
Dominic’s lace-trimmed shirt was very white in the lamplight as he watched Sophie at the billiard table. He could see she was only pretending to have her mind on the game, for her glance was too frequently averted toward the darkness outside. He would have laid odds she was waiting for Mary to return from the village. The maid would cross the terrace outside the conservatory, and that was why Sophie had this sudden urge to play billiards.
At last he saw her pause as something caught her attention through the glass. Just as he expected, Mary’s shadowy figure hurried past.
Sophie put her cue down suddenly. “I—I have a headache, Lord Ennismount.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, mademoiselle.”
“It is so bad I think I must lie down.”
“Of course. Good night, mademoiselle.”
“Good night, milord.”
He didn’t follow when she hurried out, but chalked the tip of his cue and then took aim on one of the balls. The ivory chinked satisfyingly, and the ball rolled into the far pocket. He hummed to himself as he carefully potted each ball on the table, and he was just setting them all up again when he heard the step he’d been expecting behind him.
“Yes, Thomas?” He straightened and turned.
His man was dressed in a warm cloak and had hastily removed his hat. He was a little stout, with receding hair and a pointed nose, and he was out of breath. “I did everything you said, my lord. I followed the maid into the village and waited while she called on her family. When she left, she didn’t take the same path as before, but went to a crossroad by the church. There’s a hollow oak tree there, and she took out a note that had been hidden inside.”
“There was no sign of de Marne himself?”
“No, my lord, just the note.”
“Then what?”
“She came straight back here, and as soon as she got back Mam’selle came to her.”
“Was anything said?”
“Not really. Mam’selle just seemed very excited to get the note. She didn’t say who it was from or what it said. Then she went up to her room and Mary stayed in the kitchens to have a bite of supper before attending Lady Camilla and Mam’selle later on.”
“Thank you, Thomas, you’ve been a great help.”
“My lord.” Thomas wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
Dominic smiled. “I see you aren’t accustomed to so much exercise.”
“I haven’t walked so far since I was courting Betty Jenkins, my lord,” Thomas replied with feeling.
“I can imagine. Well, your efforts tonight are appreciated, and I’ll see you’re rewarded for your pains, but in the meantime I wish you to continue keeping a close eye on Mary. I want to hear anything that might be pertinent.”
“My lord.”
“That will be all.”
“Sir.” Thomas bowed and withdrew.
Dominic put his cue back on the rack and turned to pick up his coat. He was thoughtful. Did the czar’s defiant little ward intend to meet her lover tonight? Somehow he didn’t think so, but there was always the chance. That being the case, he had no option but to warn Camilla things were already on the move.
As he donned the coat he found himself recalling another time when he’d done the same thing in this conservatory. It had been during the summer of Harry’s disagreeable conduct, and then as now, he’d been whiling away the minutes at the billiard table. He was waiting for Camilla and Harry to return from calling upon the vicar of Summerton, when they were all to go for a picnic in the Chinese garden.
At last the open landau bowled along the drive, and he could see Camilla’s blue parasol twirling as she sat at Harry’s side. But it wasn’t twirling lightheartedly, and the closer the landau drew, the more clearly he could see the strained look on her face. She wore a white muslin gown with a blue sash, and her dark hair was pinned up beneath a dainty blue silk hat.
Harry was unsmiling beside her. He’d flung himself on the seat, with one arm resting along the carriage door and the other lying idly behind his wife, and even from a distance the awkward atmosphere between them was almost tangible. Harry was to blame, as he had been all through the visit, and Camilla was being brought quite low on account of it. Dominic remembered his own growing contempt for his old friend, but then he had guessed what lay behind Harry’s changed character.
The landau halted and Harry alighted to hold his hand out to his wife. The breeze tugged her hat as she stepped down, loosening her hairpins so much that she removed the hat altogether and allowed her dark curls to tumble down over her shoulders.
Harry didn’t respond to her quick smile, and her eyes were downcast as they proceeded into the house. Then the bitter past faded into oblivion again, taking the summer sunshine with it and leaving the night-darkened glass of the present.
Dominic’s smile was ironic. “Deceit and deception, all is deceit and deception,” he murmured, straightening his coat collar and then leaving the conservatory to go up to the drawing room. But as he reached the top of the staircase, Sophie emerged from her apartment.
She halted on seeing him. “Lord Ennismount, I was just coming down to see you.”
“How is your headache, mademoiselle?”
She lowered her eyes. “It—it is still there, milord.”
“I’m sure it will benefit from a good night’s sleep.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will too, and I was just going to retire, but then I remembered I hadn’t asked you something.”
“How may I help you, mademoiselle?” he inquired.
“I would like to go for a ride in the park tomorrow morning.”
“I see. Well, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to ask Lady Camilla? After all, this is her house, and the horses are in her stables.”
“If I ask her she will feel obliged to accompany me, but I like to ride alone. I was allowed to at St. Petersburg,” Sophie added quickly.
Dominic doubted very much if the czar’s ward, at the age of only thirteen or fourteen, which is what she had been when last in Russia, would have been permitted such liberty, but he didn’t argue. “Very well, mademoiselle, I will ask Lady Camilla for you, but I’m certain it will be in order.”
Sophie’s lilac eyes brightened. “Oh, thank you, Lord Ennismount. Good night.”
“Good night, mademoiselle.”
“Please, will you call me Sophie? Lady Camilla does, and it is so much more friendly, n’est-ce pas?”
“As you wish, Sophie.”
“À demain, milord.”
“Until tomorrow, Sophie.”
He watched as she returned to her apartment. If she wished to ride alone in the park, he could only conclude she probably intended to meet de Marne then. Well, the czar’s ward might plan an expedition on her own, but she’d be discreetly accompanied, for he and Camilla would follow at a distance. His decision made, he continued his way to the drawing room.