Edith Layton (15 page)

She ducked her head and fumbled in a pocket. Not finding a handkerchief, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. He quickly handed her his handkerchief. “No,” she managed to say as she buried her face in the sail-sized handkerchief, “no one ever has, because I’m not.”

“That’s absurd! Why, of course, you’re beautiful. I’m not a poetic fellow, but anyone can see you’ve got the most wonderful eyes, so big and brown. And curls—I love your hair. And you have the most amazing figure. It really is…damme, but I wish I had the words.”

She slowly lowered the handkerchief. He saw her pink nose, reddened eyes, and newborn smile, and thought she looked adorable.

“Wonderful?” she asked, believing his doting expression more than his words, “and amazing? Well, it isn’t a patch on some of the poetry I’ve heard spouted to other girls, but it will do for a start. Do you really mean it?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“No, you don’t,” she said with rising joy.

“So let’s go see Miles.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’d never feel good about it if you did that right now. Give it time, a few days or more, and then if you still feel the same way, fine. No, better than fine, because I do love you, Eric. But I believe in fair play, and I’d never be happy if I ever thought your hand had been forced into mine.”

She’d said it gruffly, the way a well brought up young man might if he felt he’d compromised a young woman.

Eric grinned. That was part of her charm, her uniqueness, that absolute sense of integrity. He nodded. “A few days? Three’s a lucky number. Will that be enough to suit you?”

“If that’s enough for you.”

“Oh, I don’t need three minutes, but fair enough. And maybe by then I can even come up with some proper, or even improper, poetry for you. Let’s see. There was a young girl named Camille, whose manner was far from genteel.”

She giggled.

“I’ll work on it,” he promised. “For now, it is time to go in. If you don’t worry about your reputation, I do about mine.”

She picked up the hem of her skirt and took his arm. Just feeling that strong, hard arm under hers thrilled her. She didn’t know how she’d be able to keep his declaration a secret. She wanted to share her news with the world. But she had to give him a chance to change his mind. Then if he came to her and asked her to be his wife, her celebration would know no end. She eyed him and felt her senses bubbling again. He’d be hers! She’d sleep next to his big body every night, she’d be able to kiss him whenever she felt like it, and she’d…

“There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” he said as they strolled down the alley to the front of the house. “Why did you say you couldn’t look at me after what Nell said?”

Camille stumbled and was glad of the strong arm that held her upright. “It was nothing, really,” she said quickly, feeling her cheeks growing hot again.

He paused. “You know, another reason I love you is…”

“You love me,” she cried, clutching his arm hard.

“Well, of course I do. Why else…? Oh, the words. Yes, I ought to have said them.” He took her back in his arms and smiled down at her. “I love you,” he whispered, and kissed her.

Too soon for them both, and with both of them breathing hard, he reluctantly released her. He took her arm again. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying,” he said as they began walking again, “another reason I love you is that you’re the worst liar I ever met. Which is not to say that you lie all the time, but that you do it so badly. What did Nell say? I regret the day I found her. I don’t think she’s the right sort of companion for you. As for that, when’s her cousin coming to take her away? As for
that,
how do you feel about him?”

“He’s a charming man,” she said, tugging at him to get him walking again, “and I’m grateful if you’re at all jealous.”

It was like tugging a boulder. “What was it Nell said?” he persisted.

Camille looked at the toes of her riding boots. “What does it matter?”

“It mattered enough to keep you from looking at me. Come, keeping secrets? You wouldn’t like it if I did the same.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. And told him.

It took him a long time to stop laughing. She had to give him his handkerchief back so he could wipe his eyes. But when he finally sobered, he was very sober indeed.

“Stare at a man’s trousers instead of into his eyes if you want to win his heart? That’s outrageous,” he said, “but for all I know it may be true. For other fellows, that is. As for me, you may look all you like. I’d be flattered. Though I’d be more puzzled than thrilled if it was anyone else goggling at me.” He frowned. “That’s not the point. She doesn’t belong in your house. The girl’s hell-bent on becoming a Cyprian, and that’s her affair. But I don’t want her influencing you.”

“Afraid I’ll take up the trade?” she joked.

He didn’t smile.

“Actually,” she added with a saucy grin, “some of the things she told me can be helpful to you.”

“I’m not a prude and neither are you or we wouldn’t have so much to laugh about together,” he said seriously. “And I trust your good sense. But she’s headed for danger, and I don’t want her involving you in it.”

“How could she?” Camille said blithely.

“Oh, love,” he said, “never tempt the fates by saying such things.”

So she tempted him by grinning up at him, and it was a while before they could walk on.

C
amille didn’t know how she could keep her feelings to herself now, and she didn’t want to. She wanted to keep holding Eric’s hand, she wanted to kiss him again, she wanted to simply lean against the warm, solid strength of the man. But she said she’d give him more time and so was determined to do the impossible. She walked back into the house with him, fighting to keep her expression impassive and her hands off him. But she couldn’t and wouldn’t even try to stop the incredible joy she felt suffusing her.

She had Eric’s love! She didn’t need anything else—except the restraint to keep it to herself for just a few more days.

“I see you had a good ride, Cammie,” Miles
commented, looking up as they entered the salon. “Did you meet anyone we know?”

She hadn’t seen anyone. She hadn’t even seen Eric when they were riding this morning, because she’d been so busy trying to avoid his eyes and so concentrated on avoiding looking at any other part of him that she’d kept her head down. She’d memorized every hair on her horse’s neck, but she wouldn’t have noticed anyone in the park even if she’d run into—or over—the king himself.

“The usual crowd of park saunterers,” Eric said smoothly, saving Camille the necessity of speaking. “But we were too busy galloping to stop and chat with anyone. It was cold, just right for riding. The sun was bright. You should have joined us.”

“So I should have,” Miles said, looking at Camille curiously. “You must have had quite a gallop. My sister’s glowing and, come to think of it, so are you. Maybe I’ll join you tomorrow.”

“Maybe you will not,” his wife said quickly, looking from Camille to Eric. “You promised to take me to Madame Celeste so I could have my last fitting for the new gown I’ll be wearing at our soiree. Did you forget? We’re hosting a party on Saturday, and I have to look superb.”

“I confess, I forgot,” Miles said, taking her hand. “Possibly because I can’t see how anything could make you look better.”

She beamed at him; he stared at her. They stood gazing at each other until Eric cleared his throat.

“I must be going,” Eric said, “I’ll see you again soon.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Camille said, and left her brother and sister-in-law and went into the front hall with Eric.

“Then, until tonight?” Eric asked her when they stood by the door.

She frowned. “Tonight?”

“The Shipleys’ dinner party. I thought everyone was going.”

“Oh,” Camille said in frustration. “No. I promised Belle we’d go to the theater tonight.”

Now Eric frowned. “I’m promised to the Shipleys. I thought you’d be there. There’s no way I can politely get out of it. Still, we’ll ride tomorrow morning as usual? And tomorrow night you’ll be at the concert?”

Camille nodded. “But I promised Dana I’d go there with him and Nell. Miles and Annabelle have to be home to take care of last minute details to do with their party.”

Eric frowned.

“It’s only a concert,” she said, laughing. “And I’ll see you there. I’ll only be with him for the ride to and fro.”

“A fellow can get up to a lot in a carriage,” he said.

“How interesting. Really?” she asked, grinning. “You must tell me about it one day.”

“I’d be happy to do more,” he whispered, bowing.

“You don’t have to see me every minute,” she told him as softly, when he took her hand.

“Of course, I do,” he said, taking her hand to his lips.

She wished he could take more than her hand. But a footman stood at the door. “I mean,” she said quietly, so they wouldn’t be overheard, “you must have some distance so you can make up your mind fairly and dispassionately.”

“
I
mean I have to see you, plain and simple,” he said, “and there’s nothing fair about not being able to. And believe me, there’s not one thing I feel that’s the least dispassionate. Take care. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Camille stood at the open door, watching him leave. She wore a silly smile until the footman coughed to remind her how cold it was getting in the hall. She reluctantly let him shut the door. If she hurried, she could get upstairs in time to watch Eric ride away. She fairly flew up the stairs, but when she got there, all she could see was his broad back as he and his horse disappeared up the street. He was gone, and she wouldn’t see him again until tomorrow.

Her first impulse was to go to her room, jump back into bed, and sleep until the next morning, when she’d see him again. She consoled herself by thinking that there was just one more afternoon then one more night to get through. Then her world would be right again—if he didn’t change his mind, she warned herself.

But even though she earnestly tried to keep her
hopes down, when she skipped down the stair to go back to her brother and sister-in-law, it was very hard to stop smiling.

“Oh, good,” Camille said as Nell slid into the seat beside hers in the theater. “You’re back. You were gone so long, I thought you might miss the pantomime. That’s always your favorite.”

“The ladies convenience was so crowded,” Nell whispered, “I thought I might miss it too.”

No whisper was too low for Belle’s ears. She glanced at Nell. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I wasn’t in the one for the ladies,” Nell said softly. “I used the one for the servants.”

“Oh, but there was no need of that!” Camille said.

“But the other was too crowded,” Nell said, casting her gaze down. “Have I made a mistake?”

“No, you were clever,” Camille said in chagrin. “I had to wait forever.”

“One goes,” Belle said in awful tones, “where one is expected to.”

Camille giggled until Belle had to smile at her inadvertent pun.

“And where’s your cousin?” Miles asked Nell, looking at the empty seat Dana had occupied until the intermission.

“Yes,” Camille said, “I’d hate for him to miss the pantomime.”

“Why, thank you,” Dana said, as he parted the curtain and came into the box. “Thank you for
your concern. It’s just that there was such a crush in the hallway. You know,” he said to Nell, “I saw you there.”

Nell sat up straighter. “Did you?”

Dana took his seat. “Of course,” he said softly. “Remember, I watch over you.”

She turned her head and stared straight ahead, although if anyone had been watching, they would have seen she paid little attention to what was happening on the stage. But no one noticed. The pantomime was hilarious, and everyone else in the party seemed in a good mood when it was over and they got up to leave the theater.

“That was fun,” Camille declared, though her heart wasn’t in it. The pantomime, funny as it was, had seemed never-ending. Or was it just that she couldn’t wait for the night to be over? Nothing could be amusing to her tonight. She kept thinking about Eric. She hoped he was having a good time at his dinner party—no, she didn’t. She wanted him to find the food tasteless and the company flat because she wasn’t there. It wasn’t very loverlike to wish that on him, she knew. But she couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

“That gown looks very well on you,” Belle remarked as they waited for the crowds to thin so they could make their way down to the lobby and their waiting carriage. She eyed her sister-in-law critically. “I wasn’t sure salmon was your color, but you look radiant in it.”

“Thank you,” Camille said with a grin, because
she did feel as if she was glowing, but it had nothing to do with her gown.

They said good night to Dana in the lobby. He said a brief private good-bye to Nell and then bowed to Miles and Belle. Then, while Miles and Belle were occupied with a friend they’d met, he took Camille’s hand.

He held it a second longer than was proper. “Until tomorrow night,” he said.

“Tomorrow night?” Camille asked absently.

“Why, yes. The concert. Nell asked me to come get her, and you said you’d ride there with us. You forgot?”

“Oh,” Camille said in a small voice, “I suppose I did.” She had, she realized, because she really didn’t want to go anywhere with him. He’d been bland company before, bordering on boring, but now she wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to him even if he’d been fascinating. Not with Eric on her mind and in her heart. But Dana looked so hurt and surprised that she added, “But I am looking forward to it.”

He smiled, and she was relieved. Except, she thought, as she watched him walk off into the night, she’d have felt a lot better if she hadn’t made the appointment in the first place. Although it had been fun to tease Eric about it, she keenly regretted missing any opportunity to be with him, even for a few minutes in a carriage. Still, it was true that Eric couldn’t monopolize her company
unless he wanted everyone to know they’d reached an understanding.

But they had, hadn’t they? That thought made Camille feel as though she’d just downed three of the many champagne toasts that would soon be made to her. Because wouldn’t Miles and Belle be happy? And Drum? And Rafe and all her friends? Most of them were also Eric’s friends. They’d all want to celebrate. Camille wanted to turn cartwheels.

She knew it as though Eric were there at her side, telling her. He’d declare for her the minute the three days she’d asked him to take were up. Saturday night. It was the perfect time and perfect place: at the party Miles and Belle were giving. With their friends there, what better time for such a declaration?

She clasped her hands together in her fur muff and hugged it to her breast, trying to keep her happiness inside. Eric Ford, big, handsome, capable, entirely lovable Eric Ford,
her
Eric, was going to be her husband!

“Are you feeling all right?” Belle asked her, eyeing her curiously.

“Oh. Yes, better than all right,” Camille sang.

Belle glanced at Dana’s retreating back. Her eyes narrowed. “Has anything happened that I should know about, or rather, that your brother and I should know?”

“Oh, no, believe me, when that something hap
pens, you’ll be the first to know!” Camille said with a secret and growing smile.

Belle’s eyes widened.

The house was dark, the hour was late, but Camille wasn’t sleeping. She’d come home from the concert full of glee, but once she’d gone to bed all her doubts assailed her and murdered any thought of sleep. She was too fearful and too joyful and wished she could catch hold of one emotion long enough to study it.

Eric might change his mind. He might not.

She could picture him bringing her a single rose on Saturday night and whispering, “Can I tempt you to be my bride?”

No. He was not so modest.

She could almost hear him saying, “You are mine.”

She pounded her pillow and turned it over yet again. What would he say? She could hardly wait to hear it.

Camille sat up and stared into the darkness. Oh, why had she given him three days to make up his mind? That wasn’t what feminine, confident, intelligent women did. That alone might make him reconsider his offer!

She just wouldn’t sleep until Saturday, then, she decided glumly as she rose from bed. She lit a lamp, but there was nothing she wanted to read or write. She was heartily tired of herself, so she rose and
went to the window. This was a fashionable district near the park, well lit by the new gaslights, so there was always something to see, even at night. She might spy a troop of young bloods staggering home after a night on the town or the old watchman making his solemn patrol down the street or carriages bringing travelers, physicians, or partygoers to and fro. Anything would be better than her own tedious company.

She moved back the curtain and looked out.

There was a man standing directly opposite beneath the gaslight. He was looking up at her window. He must have seen the light bloom in her room when she lit her lamp. She couldn’t see his face from this distance, but there was no mistaking that monumental figure.

Camille gasped. She ran back into the room, threw on her dressing gown, and started to race to the door. She stopped. She glanced at herself in the looking glass. It was such a ratty old dressing gown, one of those that Belle despaired of, and with good reason. But she couldn’t wake Belle to borrow another. And she certainly couldn’t wait a moment more.

She ran to her door, went out into the hall, and tiptoed down the stairs, wincing at every creak of the wood under her feet. Her bare feet, she realized, as the cold floor registered under her toes. There was no time to turn back to get slippers. She flew to the wardrobe in the hall, pulled out a long velvet cape, and permitted herself a satisfied grin as
> she threw it over her shoulders. This was more fitting for a heroine’s midnight meeting.

Her grin slipped as she fumbled with the door latch. This might be the beginning of the worst moment of her life. Something clearly had to be amiss if he was pacing under her window at midnight, and he not even knowing if she was awake!

At least, she thought, heart racing as she opened the door, he wasn’t ill. He wouldn’t be here if he was sick, would he?

She threw open the door.

Eric caught her up in his arms and kissed her so thoroughly that she staggered when he released her at last. He was breathless too. She might have been surprised, but she’d have had to be dead not to return his kiss as completely as he’d given it.

They stood looking at each other in the flickering light of the lantern over the door. She licked her lips, as though trying to taste his kiss again.

Eric took her hand, his eyes fastened on her lips. His expression was grave and pained. “You must marry me,” he said. “I cannot be such a fool as to wait a moment more.” He bent his head and kissed her again, his mouth and his tongue saying everything she’d ever wanted to hear from him without his saying a word. But when he did speak again, it was everything else she’d wanted to hear. “Not just because of that,” he breathed against her hair, “though God knows that’s a fine reason. For more than that, though I don’t know how I can live without that for much longer.”

He leaned back and met her eyes, his own stark and sincere. “You asked me to think, to consider. You asked too much. I have thought. I wouldn’t have proposed if I had not. I know my mind and my heart. How could I go to a dinner party and think of you somewhere else? You ruined my dinner, little wretch. As you’d ruin my life if you didn’t spend yours with me. I think I must have willed you awake. I couldn’t sleep until we spoke. We must marry, and that is that—and everything else.”