Amelia’s entire lifetime.
But he’d written his sister every day, and his aunt read Amelia his letters, even when Amelia was too young to understand them. To Amelia, it was as if he’d always been there, and Cam had his Aunt Mary to thank for that.
“She looks just like your mother,” Julian said, with that uncanny ability he had of reading Cam’s mind. “The fair hair, and the shape of her nose and mouth—”
“Not her eyes, though.” Cam’s voice was hoarse.
Julian didn’t try to deny it. He couldn’t. “Shall we ride over to Berkley Square and meet them? You can buy Amelia another ice and ruin her appetite for dinner. It will drive my mother mad.”
Cam took a deep breath to work the pang from his chest, then smiled at his cousin. “Let’s take the carriage. I’ll go straight from Gunter’s to collect Lady Eleanor for our drive.”
Julian’s smile dimmed. “It’s not too late to put a stop to this, Cam.”
Cam’s jaw went hard. “But it is too late, cousin. Eleven years too late.”
Chapter Five
Camden West arrived at the Sutherland townhouse just as the long-case clock on the first floor landing struck five.
Eleanor swept down the stairs at precisely one minute after five, wearing a demure blue carriage dress that flattered her trim waist. “Good afternoon, Mr. West. My, you’re prompt.”
She’d hadn’t chosen the dress to entice Mr. West—she’d chosen it because the matching hat was so large it looked like a ship heaving into port. If Mr. West wished to see her face, he’d have to tread water to get under the brim.
Clever idea, accessories that both flattered and disguised a lady at once.
He bowed. “I said five o’clock. You’ll find, Lady Eleanor, once I’ve decided on a course of action, I pursue it through to the end, no matter what.”
Eleanor hovered two steps above the bottom of the staircase. A warning, already? For goodness’ sake, they hadn’t even left the entryway yet. “What a fascinating personal philosophy, Mr. West, but a simple, ‘Yes, Iamprompt,’ would have been sufficient.”
He stiffened. “I think it best we understand each other from the start.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. She understood him already, far better than he suspected she did. “All right, then. What would you have me understand from that speech, Mr. West?”
He observed her through narrowed eyes. “That I pay close attention to details, my lady.”
“Do you, indeed? How reassuring.” She took care to sound bored, but Eleanor ducked back under her hat to hide her uneasiness. There was no denying Mr. West was wilier than her previous suitors. He’d skirted the problem of Alec rather neatly, and she and Charlotte had fallen right into the trap he and his loathsome cousin had set at the Foster’s ball.
Then again, anyone could stumble into a trap they didn’t know was there. He’d have a much harder time of it when he tried to stuff and mount his trophy.
He might be clever, but her task was a simple one—discover what he wanted, and make it difficult for him to get it. And after all, his motives were transparent enough. He wanted her because she’d eluded everyone else. No doubt he expected to find a shallow, pliable female—one he could easily manipulate. He didn’t seem to understand she’d become rather an expert at dodging unwanted suitors over the past two seasons. He’d give up soon enough when he found she wouldn’t be led meekly down the aisle. No, she’d kick and scream the entire way, and by the end of it, Mr. West would be relieved to be rid of her.
After all, stubbornness wassuchan unbecoming trait in a woman, particularly a wife.
He held out his arm. “Shall we go?”
She frowned at him. “Why no, of course not. You can’t imagine I’ll ride in the park with you without a chaperone, can you?”
“A chaperone? That’s not necessary, Lady Eleanor—”
“But of course it is, Mr. West. My goodness. I wouldn’tdreamof venturing out the door with a gentleman without a proper chaperone.” She gave him a sweet smile. “Now, wherever has Tilly got to? Can you fetch her please, Rylands? Mr. West is anxious to be off.”
Rylands bowed and disappeared down the hallway.
“Tilly, is it?” The faintest hint of a smile touched one corner of his mouth.
Eleanor’s own smile wavered. If he was furious about her trick, he showed no sign of it. He even looked amused, in a tolerant sort of way, as if she were a child who’d hid in plain sight during a game of hide and seek.
Well, no matter. He wouldn’t be quite so amused when he met Tilly.
