I knowall about you.
A slight tightening of her fingers on his arm indicated she’d understood his warning, but otherwise she remained calm, controlled. “My. Youdolisten to gossip.”
“Perhaps gossip exaggerates in your case? Or have you really declined five suitors?”
“Hmmm.” She tapped her fingers one by one against his arm, as if counting them off. “It’s so difficult to recall, you see. There was one, two. . . oh, bother! Shall we just say five, and allow the gossip to be correct? It usually is in these cases.”
It would be so simple to dismiss this speech as nothing more than a stream of nonsense from a frivolous belle, but Cam heard the scorn underlying the carelessness—scorn for theton’svicious gossip, and for him, for listening to it.
He couldn’t help but admire such a brilliantly played game, but her intelligence made no difference at all in his plans, any more than her stupidity would have, had it been real. “Do you count Lord Tidmarsh among the five? I don’t believe he got as far an actual offer, so perhaps not.”
She sighed. “Poor Lord Tidmarsh. He didn’t seem to understand in the least what he’d got himself into.” She tapped her finger against her bottom lip regretfully, but Cam knew her words for what they were.
Another warning.
“If you mean he was surprised to find his heart crushed under your slipper and handed back to him at the end of the quadrille, then I’d have to agree with you. What can have made him believe your affections were engaged? Him, or any of your five suitors?”
She stilled. The expression on her face didn’t change, but Cam sensed a sudden anger spark to life under her cool facade. Ah. He’d struck a nerve. Justified or not, thetonthought Lady Eleanor a tease. She knew it, and she resented it.
She waved a careless hand in the air. “Oh well, as to that, Mr. West, I suppose Imusthave encouraged Lord Tidmarsh, and all my suitors, without realizing I did so. It’s excessively mortifying.”
She’d gone breathless partway through this speech. Not from mortification, as she’d have him believe, but from anger. “It’s just the gentlemen are so impressive, you see, and so worthy of my regard. I suppose they believed my affections were engaged when they weren’t, and so my brother was compelled to refuse his permission on my account.”
“How unfortunate.” He lapsed back into silence.
Was it possible she hadn’t encouraged any of her five suitors, but their arrogance had led them to pursue her? He could believe it of Lord Tidmarsh, but what of the others, the gentlemen who’d made her legitimate offers of marriage? Mr. Fitzsimmons? Hadn’t Lord Ponsonby also made her an offer?
Five suitors, all mistaken in her affections? Unlikely.
“Your brother obliged you each time. You’re fortunate, Lady Eleanor, that Lord Carlisle is so concerned with your happiness.”
For the first time that day, she looked him straight in the eye. “Perhaps my brother wishes to ensure I won’t marry beneath myself, Mr. West.”
Cam stiffened. Ah, there it was—that Sutherland arrogance. In this, at least, she fulfilled his expectations. “There are many, many ways a woman can marry beneath herself, Lady Eleanor.”
“Yes. There are.” Her voice was flat. “We’ve come a long way, sir, much farther than I intended. I’m sure Tilly is fatigued. Tilly?” She dropped his arm and turned toward her servant, who’d now fallen some distance behind. “We’ll return to the carriage now.”
Tilly turned and began to walk back in the direction from which they’d come. Lady Eleanor followed after her without a backward glance at Cam.
That was it, then. He wouldn’t get any more out of her today, except perhaps another observation on the preciousness of the ducks. He caught up to her to escort her back to the carriage, but didn’t attempt to take her arm again.
He’d pushed Lady Eleanor as far as she would go this afternoon, but tomorrow, well . . .
That was another thing entirely.
Chapter Eight
“Lady Abernathy’s roses are lovely, aren’t they?” Ellie laid a hand on Charlotte’s wrist. “See? Just there. She’s famous for the yellow ones.”
Charlotte turned obediently in the direction Eleanor indicated, but her expression remained absent. “Hmmm. Yes. Lovely.”
“She grows nettles, as well. Did you know? Perhaps you’d care to take a stroll with me among the nettles, Charlotte?”
“A stroll? Yes. That would be lovely.”
Eleanor gave her skirts an irritated jerk and the pile of daisies in her lap spilled to the ground. “Lady Abernathy keeps the poisonous plants well hidden, of course—behind the roses, in the shady area just by the terrace steps. But then you’ve heard the tales about how she poisoned Lord Abernathy, I’m sure.”
“Shady area?” Charlotte murmured. “What a lovely place for plants.”
