“Very well, Mr. West—that is, Camden.”
He stilled at the sound of his name on her lips, aware of a strange leap in his lower belly.
“In celebration of this new intimacy between us,” she continued, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “Allow me to pay you a compliment. How clever you are to invite my family to your estate to hunt. It will be far more difficult for me to avoid you when I’m a guest in your house, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
It had crossed his mind.
But only after he’d extended the invitation. “Now, Eleanor.” He paused to savor the taste of her name in his mouth. “That was mere luck, not design on my part. You were there. You know I couldn’t avoid the invitation.”
“Well, Mr. West—”
“Camden. Or Cam, if you prefer.”
She drew in a long, patient breath. “Well, Camden, you were quick to take advantage of the opportunity.”
He shrugged. “Of course I was. But if you’re worried about my having, ah . . . unfettered access to you, you can always remain at home.”
Another faint blush rose in her cheeks at the innuendo. “Leave you alone with my family for days on end? I think not. My brothers seem far more eager than I am to accommodate you. I can’t account for it at all, in fact. Another rare stroke of luck for you?”
He gave her an angelic smile. “The virtuous are favored with luck.”
“Virtuous?You can’t be serious—”
She began to sputter with indignation, but stopped when she noticed his wide grin. “Virtuous now, are you?” An unwilling smile touched the corners of her lips.
He leaned back against the settee. “Yes, and virtue should be rewarded. Don’t you agree?”
“No. Virtue is supposed to be its own reward.”
“Not this time. So I’ll beg another favor of you, Eleanor.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve used up all your favors, Mr. West.”
“Camden. This favor benefits us both.”
She shook her head. “Impossible. We’re on opposing sides.”
“At the moment, yes, but can’t we play together for the duration of the hunting party at Lindenhurst?”
She eyed him as if she were waiting for some trick—for him to pull a card from his sleeve or a hidden rabbit from his coat. “What, a truce? How does that benefit me?”
“Well, it would make things much pleasanter between us, for one.”
She jerked up in her seat, her eyes wary. “I don’twantthings to be pleasant between us.” She plucked at her skirts again, avoiding his eyes. “It will only make this harder.”
Cam stared at her, unable to say a word as realization dawned on him.
I’m makinga mess of this.
She’d told him the day after the Foster’s ball that gossips always exaggerated. He should have listened to her, but instead he’d listened to the gossip, to every whisper and rumor about Lady Eleanor Sutherland, the haughty, proudtondarling, the tease, so cold, so arrogant she’d already rejected five suitors.
Nothing had been good enough for Hart Sutherland, either. It stood to reason any child of his must be formed from the same clay her father had been.
Except she wasn’t.
He never imagined she’d have such fight in her, such spirit, or such intelligence. He never expected to be fascinated by her. To want her, to want to unravel her, to turn her inside out, to see her from every angle. He never expected he’d want to know her.
He never expected her at all.
