“Is that so? Why don’t you go find out for yourself? At one point I think my ears began to bleed.”
Julian didn’t look in the least sympathetic. “You know I’d love nothing more than to assist you, cousin, but the lady won’t speak to me. You saw the welcome she gave me when Amelia and I arrived. I almost mistook her for a piece of sculpture, she was so cold and stiff.”
“She has the wit of a piece of sculpture,” Cam muttered. “I thought she had a least a passable intelligence, but I was wrong.”
He hadn’t expected a great deal of wit from a spoiledtonbelle, but he’d begun to wonder how Lady Eleanor managed to get her slippers on the correct feet.
“I can’t understand why she’s accounted so clever.” Julian glanced toward the other end of the hallway, where Lady Eleanor was bent over Amelia’s shoulder, watching her sketch. “She looks animated enough now.”
Cam gave an indifferent shrug. “She must be blathering on about Lady Leicester’s gown. She’s done nothing but babble incoherently about the paintings, but she did manage to go on at tedious length about the trim on some lady’s bonnet.”
He followed Julian’s gaze without interest and saw Lady Eleanor standing in front of Lady Leicester’s portrait with Amelia. He swept a disparaging eye over her, and as quickly dismissed her to return to his study of the Duke.
“Quite animated, in fact,” Julian said in a surprised tone.
“She’s only going on about—” Cam began, turning to glance at her again, but he fell silent, watching her. Something about her expression, the liveliness in her face, caught his attention.
Julian was right. She did look animated. Her cheeks were flushed, and even from this distance he could see her eyes were bright and alert. She leaned over Amelia’s shoulder to point to something on the page, then they both looked up at the painting of Lady Leicester. Cam couldn’t hear what she said, but he could see by the movement of her lips her words were rapid and earnest. Amelia nodded, as if in understanding.
Cam’s eyes narrowed to slits. It didn’t look as if they were talking about Lady Leicester’s gown. He abandoned his study of the Duke of York and started toward them. “They look as thick as two pickpockets. What the devil do you suppose they’re discussing?”
Julian didn’t move. “Lady Charlotte.”
Cam turned back to him impatiently. “Lady Charlotte? Why would Lady Eleanor discuss her sister with Amelia?”
Julian seemed to be rooted to the floor, but he jerked his chin toward the other end of the hall. “No. Lady Charlotte is here.”
Cam looked over his shoulder. By God, she was, and Lady Carlisle with her. “Come on, then.” He tugged on Julian in an attempt to break the hold the floor seemed to have on his cousin’s feet.
“Lady Charlotte,” Cam said with a polite bow as he joined them.
She ignored him entirely. At first he thought she intended to give him the cut direct, but then he realized she was so focused on Julian, who stood beside him, she hadn’t even noticed he was there.
“Lady Charlotte,” Julian murmured, a trifle hoarsely.
His tone and his bow were as polite as Cam’s, but Lady Charlotte must have heard the husky note in his voice, for she turned scarlet, her expression both defiant and mortified at once.
Lady Eleanor rushed forward and hastened to smooth over the moment. “Ah, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Carlisle. This,” she added, with a touch to Amelia’s shoulder, “is Miss Amelia West. I believe you know Mr. Julian West, Lady Carlisle. This gentleman is his cousin, Mr. Camden West.”
Lady Carlisle couldn’t help but notice Lady Eleanor’s cool tone when she introduced him, but she was far too well bred to reveal any surprise. “How do you do?” She curtsied to the gentlemen, then held out her hand to Amelia. “It’s a particular pleasure to meet such an enthusiastic young artist, Miss West.”
Amelia curtsied. “Thank you, Lady Carlisle. Lady Eleanor has been telling me all about Mr. L—”
“You must promise to show me your sketch next time we meet, Amelia,” Lady Eleanor interrupted, with an anxious glance at Cam. “Especially her gown.”
“Next time we meet?” Cam asked. “Are you leaving?”
She nodded. “I thought to save you the trouble of escorting me home. I’m already fatigued, and you’ve hardly had a look at the paintings yet. I’ll only slow you down, and my sisters are just leaving.”
Cam frowned. For a half-wit, she was quick to take advantage of an escape route. He couldn’t protest without appearing rude, however. “Very well. I’ll see you this afternoon at five, for our drive.”
Her mouth tightened, as if she’d tasted something sour. “Our drive. Of course. Lovely.” She gave Amelia one last smile, and then, before he could say another word, she walked away.
High-handed chit.
Cam turned to say as much to Julian, but closed his mouth without bothering when he saw his cousin gawking after Lady Charlotte, like a famished dog denied a juicy bit of meat.
Cam turned to Amelia with a sigh instead. “Well, minx, what did you think of Lady Eleanor?”
