“You know, my lady, it is terribly crowded on the lawn, a credit to Lord Quickner’s and your renowned hospitality.”
The lady bobbed her head in silent appreciation for the compliment, her eyes sharp. She whipped open her fan and made a good show of fanning herself in irritation. “Crowded is right.” She raised her voice for the closest couples to hear. “So hard to have any kind of civil conversation with an amiable young lady with all this noise.” She glanced towards the lake in the distance. “But you know, no one would be walking the path this early in the day. And seeing as how it is so visible and public, no one would utter a word about impropriety. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?”
Renard smiled, finding he enjoyed a bit of meddling. The lady’s reaction verified one thing: More than Charlotte must be unaware of the nighttime activities. “I think I may do as you suggest. It is a fine day, after all, and your groundsareso well maintained.”
Lady Quickner folded her fan and tapped his shoulder once again, her smile wide. “To be young again. Go on, then.” Her attention went to the crowd, but her next words were for his ears only. “I’ll have Lord Quickner start the archery tournament early. That should give you plenty of ‘quiet’ time to walk.”
Renard bowed over the lady’s gloved hand and gave her a wink. “Any of these puppies utters so much as a grumble in your direction, and I will set them straight.”
The lady’s dazzling smile was that of a younger woman. “I will watch over Lady Charlotte while you are away.” Her gaze went to where his sister stood off to one side, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Lady Quickner’s expression softened. “A sweet girl. And wonderfully curious, though of a different variety than I expected. Asked me about the local insect population not two seconds after arriving.” Her attention returned to him. “Have no fear, Your Grace. She is in good hands and far too innocent to be the subject of prey for anyone here.”
Renard’s shoulders relaxed as he bowed again. His words were wholly sincere when he said, “Thank you, my lady.”
“Make sure to write her a note, begging for her to slip away to meet you,” Lady Quickner said with a sigh. “It’s more romantic.”
Renard thought of his poor penmanship and winced. Then he remembered how Camille had teased him for his bad handwriting the night they’d met. Deciding her humor at his expense was well worth another round of his humiliation if it put him one step closer to her forgiveness, he made his way towards the house in search of writing supplies.
Chapter Twenty
Camille looked downat the note the servant had handed her a moment ago, the words so mangled and such an eyesore, the sender had to be Renard. She glanced at the partygoers around her in their ridiculous, cheery patterns and top hats and searched for one particular man with fair hair and desert eyes.
Syd’s scrunched face appeared over her shoulder, telling Camille her friend had had no luck reading Renard’s message, either.
“Did a child write that? Is it code?” she asked.
“Code for what, exactly?”
“Another lawn game, or a clue to a scavenger hunt... or perhaps directions to a secret rendezvous from a handsome duke? No use feigning shock.” Syd put a hand on her hip. “You should realize by now I know everything that goes on with you. I knew Mr. Lover was here the minute you returned last night and didn’t balk when I ate the rest of the food on your plate. Did he follow you here?”
“It is a coincidence.” Though it felt anything but.
“It’s fate!” Syd’s younger age made an annoying appearance as she clutched her chest in a dramatic gesture of adolescence. “It’s a love letter? What does it say?”
Camille bit her lip and shook her head. “I have no idea.” Really, this message was more illegible than the last he’d written for her to read.
“Never mind.” Syd nodded towards the treeline. “I caught a glimpse of fair hair heading in the direction of the lake a minute ago. Go. I’ll cover for you.”
Camille glanced around at the dozens of elegantly dressed ladies in their wide-brimmed hats, and then at herself and Syd, hatless and in simple day dresses.
“You sure you’ll be all right ‘rubbing elbows with the elite’?”
“No need to worry, friend.” Syd’s grin was not comforting. “I’ve always wanted to shoot a bow and arrow at a crowd of peacocks.”
Camille groaned. “Be civil, please.”
“I’m always civil when threatening fowl.”
Camille headed off in the direction of the lake, fearing a very real conversation with Pops on why his daughter had been detained by the local magistrate for misuse of sports equipment.
Following a well-trekked path in the lawn, Camille came to the lake in no time and used the shade of a large willow to survey the lakeside for Renard. Short cattails framed the lake’s edge, and she leaned against the tree’s trunk and breathed in the country air. He must have taken a less direct route.
The breeze was slight, leaving the lake’s surface glassy as it reflected a sky of cloudless blue. A pair of iridescent green-and-blue-headed mallards splashed in the shallows, ducking their heads under the water and sticking white feathered rear ends in the air.
Camille watched in wonder, the brilliance of color like nothing she’d seen in the city—aside from some rather ostentatious gowns and vests worn in the newest fashions.
“Enjoying the view?”
Camille pushed off the tree, expecting to find Renard. But when she turned, it was to find a different gentleman, the golden curls on his head wild when he tipped his hat.
