Malcolm shook his head. “It is I who should apologize for any inconvenience my wife and I have put you through.”
Lady Burwell laughed. “Nonsense.”
Malcolm took Lady Burwell’s hand and placed a proper kiss on her knuckles. “Lady Burwell, may I say you look very fetching, making the sunshine envious of you for taking away its brightness.”
The woman giggled like a girl, and Camilla held back a laugh. Malcolm certainly knew how to captivate a lady.
“Oh, you are a charmer, Mr. Worthington,” the older woman cooed.
Camilla had to agree. That man was irresistibly charming.
Malcolm turned to the colonel and bowed slightly. “Thank you, for the generous invitation. I commend you for the remarkable additions you have made to this property since the last occupants owned it.”
George Burwell chuckled. “Yes, it was a mere shack until we made the proper accommodations. But I heard you were the one who designed the manor. Is that correct?”
“Indeed, sir.”
Lady Burwell gasped. “Are you jesting?”
Malcolm shook his head. “I would not jest about matters so important, my lady.”
“Well, then I shall have to hire you to build me more.”
“You wish to add on another wing, perhaps?”
“Oh, no.” She laughed. “This manor suits my needs for the moment, but I wish to have a different stable. The one we have is too small.”
“I shall be more than happy to draw up the plans for you.”
Camilla kept silent as her husband conversed with the couple. There was an underlying tone to his answers, almost as if he lied through his teeth. Outwardly, his expression held a pleasant look, but she could read him well. His behavior wasn’t quite right, and the nerve on his cheek twitched. This had happened before when he tried to hold his anger.
When more guests arrived, the Burwells excused themselves. Malcolm hooked her hand around his elbow again and walked away. She tried not to ponder the doubts creeping into her mind and instead concentrated on the furnishings.
“I think this manor is immaculately decorated,” she said.
“Take a good look, my dear,” Malcolm whispered, and leaned closer. “This is funded by the hardworking people of Dorchester. Their taxes pay for Lady Burwell’s furnishings.”
She gasped, turning her head to meet his narrowed gaze. “You cannot be serious.”
“Can’t I?” His eyebrow rose. “Where do you think the money goes, but to the soldiers and their families? Have you not noticed that all the higher-ranking soldiers live almost as wealthily as the royals?”
Different doubts filled her now. The more she thought about this, the more she realized Malcolm was correct.
“These are difficult times, thanks to Napoleon trying to take over Britain,” he told her. “However, I don’t believe the prince regent is handling things correctly.”
She nodded. “You are probably right.”
“I know I am,” he answered with sadness in his voice.
A servant joined them, interrupting her errant thoughts on the political matter.
“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Worthington,” the younger woman began. “Lady Burwell has asked me to show you to your room. I’m certain you’ll want to freshen up before the garden luncheon.”
Camilla smiled. “Oh, yes. That would be wonderful, thank you.”
She and Malcolm followed the maid up the grand staircase. When they stepped into the room, Camilla inhaled sharply. Hers and Malcolm’s trunks sat side by side. Her heart jumped to her throat with the mere thought of their sharing a bed.
“Excuse me,” Malcolm said. “Why are my trunks in my wife’s room?”
