Amelia dimpled. “Oh, I like her very much. She’s clever, especially about art. She knows a lot about Mr. Lawrence’s paintings.”
Cam stared at his sister.Clever? Knows about paintings?Perhaps Amelia had misunderstood.“I—what? What does she know?”
“Oh, all kinds of things, but she mostly told me about Mr. Lawrence, and why he’s considered a Romantic.”
Julian, who’d snapped out of his trance, asked, “You mean she said he was a Romantic painter?”
Amelia nodded. “Yes, that’s it. She said it means he’s talented at expressing emotions in his paintings. He painted Queen Charlotte, you know. Lady Eleanor said if I want to learn I should copy the great paintings, like Mr. Lawrence did when he was a child, and—what’s so funny, Uncle Julian?”
Julian made a series of choking noises, but he couldn’t quite smother his glee. “Well, well, not so dim-witted after all, is she?”
Cam glared at the archway through which Lady Eleanor had disappeared moments before, and his hands curled into fists.
No. Not so dim-witted, after all.
Chapter Seven
“Have you made up your mind yet, my lady?”
Cam arrived on Lady Eleanor’s doorstep promptly at five o’clock, bowed, and escorted her with polite attention to the carriage. To all outward appearances, their drive began much as every other afternoon drive they’d taken over the past three days.
But it wasn’t. Not this time. This time, he was ready for her.
“The Ring?” he asked, as they entered Hyde Park. “Or a stroll around the Serpentine?”
Lady Eleanor tapped her gloved fingertips anxiously against her lips. “Oh, dear. I’m just not sure.”
Cam smothered a snort. “Take your time, my lady.”
She turned wide, troubled eyes on him, as if he’d asked her to explain a complicated mathematical theory instead of whether they should turn left or right. Her performance was spot on. If the carriage hadn’t been in motion, he might have risen to his feet to give her a standing ovation.
The empty smile was inspired. She was good enough to tread the boards alongside Mrs. Siddons. Sooner or later, though, she’d discover her theatrical talents were wasted on him, and she’d move on to her next scheme. That therewouldbe a next scheme went without saying. A gambling addiction, perhaps? Madness in the family?
He should be furious at her antics, outraged by her charade. He should launch oranges at the stage, hiss, whistle and brawl drunkenly like the rest of the spectators in the pit. Instead, he was looking forward to her next act with painful anticipation. When she realized she played to an empty theater and gave up her game, some small part of him would be disappointed.
After their illuminating visit to the Royal Academy, he’d spent the entire afternoon closeted in his study, determined to strip away Lady Eleanor’s disguises until he’d bared her to the skin. He peeled each layer, one by one—her gestures, her expressions, her conversation. He studied them, played them over and over in his mind until at last he arrived at one inescapable conclusion.
She’d whittled, carved and honed her natural intelligence to an extraordinarily fine, sharp point, and she wielded it like a rapier. She was clever, yes—intriguingly so, and not only because he’d been fooled by her charade. No, what stunned him was how well she’d read him, as if he were a character in a play she knew by heart. She’d cast him as the villain, and memorized all his lines before he even realized he was on the stage at all. She saw at once he thought her a vain, silly, feeble-witted belle, and she presented him with exactly that.
It shouldn’t have worked. Now he looked back on it, he couldn’t understand how he’d ever believed her a half-wit. From the start, he’d seen evidence to the contrary, but he’d dismissed it with a snap of his fingers the minute she offered another version of herself.
An easier version. A more believable one. The version of her heexpected to see.
Well, now he wanted to see past it, straight to the raw, tender skin underneath, and he would. This very afternoon. “Have you made a decision yet, my lady? The Ring, or the Serpentine?”
She darted a look around them as if trying to decide, but Cam suspected she was looking for the least crowded part of the park. Thetonwas gossiping about them, and she wouldn’t want to feed their speculation by being seen in public with him again.
“The Ring!” she announced, then smiled proudly at him.
Cam tried for an indulgent look, and an air of congratulations. “Very good, my lady.”
They hadn’t gone more than ten paces before she began to fret and wring her hands, however.
“Is something amiss, Lady Eleanor?”
“No. That is, yes. I fear I’ve made a mistake, Mr. West. I believe I’d prefer a stroll, after all.”
The dark eyes seemed about to fill, and her lower lip trembled.Good Lord. Was it possible she could squeeze out an actual tear? “I beg you not to distress yourself. It’s no trouble to turn the carriage around.”
