She looked down and saw his hand at his side, close to his pocket. The knife from the park flashed in her eyes. She didn’t think. She covered his hand with her own.
The look he gave her made her take her hand back. She didn’t even feel like she was looking at a man anymore. Camilla’s chest hurt, but she took his hand again. She gripped it hard.
Someone called him and he turned away. He started to take back his hand, but she kept it.
He glanced at her and then spoke to the lady who’d asked him a question. She felt him calm just as much as she witnessed the aggression leave his eyes.
He leaned back and she kept his hand. He eventually grinned at something someone said and Camilla smiled.
“But I haven’t even told you the best news yet,” Luke called from the front of the table. Then he looked at Will. “Shall you inform the table or shall I?”
∫ ∫ ∫
1 9
* * *
Will had felt it long before he’d stepped over the threshold of Tolkin’s home.
There was something wrong, something strange about the eagerness with which Tolkin had welcomed Will into his home. The last time he’d come, the man couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
Then he’d had Will walk Camilla into the dining room, giving him a position higher than his mother at the table. He should have noticed all of this, but once he’d seen Camilla, his thoughts had scattered.
She’d been anxious from the beginning. He’d felt her despair and her wish to get away from him. He shouldn’t have come, even after she’d grabbed his hand, he’d known it to be true.
How kind of her to try and comfort him when he was the reason for her own fears.
Tolkin was grinning at him, and Willian took pleasure in one fact and one fact alone. He could no longer be arrested for hitting a peer. He was one himself.
Just in case, Will said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be so modest… my lord.”
Will cursed.
Camilla stiffened. She must have heard him.
He stroked her hand and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t respond. Her cheeks reddened. He took his hand away from her slowly.
“My lord?” Lady Hornstein asked. “What does that mean? What is he saying?” Camilla looked like her. Their faces were mirrors of one another, though Lady Hornstein was a much older and darker version.
Camilla and Tolkin shared the same light eyes and hair, but when Will looked at the marchioness, he saw an older, sadder version of Camilla.
“I’m to be made earl,” he said.
“He is an earl,” Tolkin said. “He has been for over a week.” He pointed at William accusingly. “You didn’t introduce yourself properly the other day, Lord Sencio.”
The table went into hysterics once more, however, the atmosphere was different. He was still studied like an animal, but there was now some respect in their eyes. He was no longer simply exotic in nature; they now saw his power.
Which was foolish, considering he’d been just as dangerous five minutes ago as he was now.
“You’re an earl?” Camilla asked.
He didn’t look at her.
The main course finally came and the noise decreased while people enjoyed their meals.
Every now and again, someone asked Will a question or lifted their wine glass in a toast to him.
The women were watching him differently now.
He didn’t want to look at Camilla. He didn’t want to know if she was looking at him differently, if she now considered him worthy of her presence.
Her brother did. He could see it in Tolkin’s eyes. He understood creatures like him well. He wanted the best for his sister and by definition of the ton, there was no better attribute to a man than a title. He had little desire to be one of these people.
“Excuse me.” He didn’t stay for the last course. He didn’t bother to make an excuse for his swift departure. He simply left. He didn’t even bother to ask Tolkin for his informant. It could be anyone. It could have been someone from the records office or even Landcastle himself. It didn’t matter. The secret was out.
He was done with Tolkin, Hornstein, and Camilla.
He was especially done with Camilla.
Earl or not, he would complete his mission. So that was what he set his mind on, e
ven as his hand that had been in Camilla’s grip still tingled.
He was stopped in the foyer by Tolkin. The gentleman was grinning as he came forward. “My lord, give me a chance to bid you farewell.”
Will opened his mouth but stopped at the sight of Camilla behind him. She was followed by Lady Tolkin. The family met him at the door.
“Camilla wishes to speak to you,” Tolkin said.
Will looked at Camilla. Her eyes widened in shock. Her brother continued, “Lady Tolkin and I only came out for propriety. She’ll remain to give you both a few minutes alone, but I must return to my guests.” Then, without another word—without asking Will if he wished to speak to his sister—Tolkin took his speechless wife into the nearby drawing room and disappeared beyond the wall before reappearing and all but skipping down the hall and back into the dining room.
Will waited for Lady Tolkin to come back out. She didn’t. He
grunted and then chuckled. Just a week ago, Tolkin wouldn’t dare leave him with his sister. He’d had a fit about standing on the other side of the room.
“I didn’t ask…” Camilla pressed a finger to her lips as she thought. She stared at his chest and dropped her hands to her side. “I didn’t ask him to arrange this.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” He’d wondered if his newfound title would mean anything to her. He was glad it didn’t.
She looked up. Her dress was white. It made her skin seem less pale and her eyes more so. They reminded him of glass, and he watched them shatter in frustration. “I don’t like knives.”
He hadn’t suspected those words.
She cleared her throat. “I mean, I use them to eat with, but otherwise...” Camilla placed a hand at her throat and her eyes dropped again. But he could tell she wasn’t seeing his shirt or coat. She’d closed herself away in her mind and Will tried to imagine the scene from the park with Mr. Nast.
He knew he’d frightened her and he couldn’t blame her for her feelings. Will floated between the two realms of Society. The light and the darkness. The latter had a system that functioned under different laws—deadly laws.
The most dangerous thing Camilla ever did was likely kiss a boy in an alley, yet once you knew the other world existed, you could never stop seeing it.
She shook her head yet remained in her memories. They seemed to hold her captive. Her voice was quiet. “I don’t like knives.”
His sinking suspicion that the day in the park wasn't the only memory playing in her thoughts had anxiety tightening the muscles in his stomach. He grasped her small chin and she gasped but didn’t pull away. She didn’t fight him as he lifted her face toward his and forced her to meet his gaze. “Did someone hurt you?”
“No.”
“But you’ve seen a knife used on someone?” What darkness had this girl experienced?
She frowned. “No one was… hurt. But there were threats.” She moved out of his hold and took a step back. She wrapped her arms around herself. With a glare, she asked, “Why did you tell me?”
“About?”
“Your title?” She looked betrayed, which didn’t make sense being that they barely knew one another.
Yet the reasoning didn’t alleviate his own guilt.
“Does it matter?” Then he shook his head. “No, don’t answer that.”
She didn’t, and he sighed with relief.
He didn’t want it to matter. It shouldn’t matter at all, because there was nothing between them but a few pages of description of a hero he was certain she’d changed. To prove his point, he asked, “How is your book coming along?”
Her eyes
fell again. “It’s… I’m having trouble...”
“You’re having trouble finding another muse, you mean?”
She swallowed, yet he saw the moment her discomfort vanished. She dropped her arms once more and lifted her chin. “Where’s Mr. Nast?”
“He’s run to his estate to warn his family that something terrible is about to befall them. I didn’t touch him. I won’t have to. The man made poor decisions in the past and like the past is known to do, it’s coming back in a way he’ll regret.” Even Will had been forced to live with the foolish choices he’d made as a young man. He had no remorse for Nast.
She said nothing. And that troubled him.
He wanted to leave, but he didn’t know how to. He was stuck until she released him. He could walk out on her brother all he wished, but he couldn’t seem to escape her, not when he was intent to know where he stood. “Say something.”
She jumped at his hard tone. “It should have been a normal day. I saw you in the park. We had a chat. We made plans to meet again.” She looked away. “Then I’d have gone my separate way and you yours. That was what was supposed to happen.”
But instead, she’d witnessed him interrogate a man known for a whole slew of crimes.
“Is that how it works in your mind?” he asked, now more curious than angry. “Do you have the story of your life all planned out? Every minute of every day set in its rightful place?”
Her eyes returned to him. “It isn’t so much about plans as it is...”
“Hopes?” he asked. “Dreams? Beliefs?”
She nodded. “I mean, one should plan their day, shouldn’t they?”
“Plan, yes, but also be prepared for change you can’t control. Be prepared for anything.”
“Anything?” She laughed and covered her cheeks. “Days ago, to be prepared for anything meant to take an umbrella from home and carry an extra coin in my pocket. At the very worst, a lady experiences a pickpocket.”
“Ladies experience far worse than that.” Will knew a few, but they were women who not only knew about the ton’s darker realm but had lived through the worst it could offer them and made it to the other side.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing.” And then, after another long pause, he said, “Be well, Lady Camilla.”
Then he left.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 0
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Camilla asked after all the guests had left. She and her mother remained and would leave together but first, she needed to speak to Luke.
Emily looked lost as she sat in the corner of the office. Their mother was in the parlor. She’d been pouring a glass of brandy when Camilla last saw her.
Haughtiness and his own inflated sense of superiority curled Luke’s lips. “The man thought me a fool, but I showed him, didn’t I?”
“What do you mean?” Camilla asked.
Luke leaned forward. “He came into my house and announced himself falsely. Then he had the nerve to follow you to the park.”
“He did not follow me—”
“I was not about to let some fiend have you, Cammie. You deserve an earl at the least.” He smacked his hand on the desk and smiled. “Now, you have one. You’re welcome.”
Camilla scoffed. “Luke, I don’t know what it is you think you know about me, but you’re wrong. Will and I are… no longer on good terms. We don’t like each other.” She took a breath. “He isn’t even helping me with my book anymore.”
His farewell still troubled her, and she doubted she’d sleep when she got home.
Luke’s smile fell. “You’re no longer on good terms? When did this happen?” He looked at Emily accusingly. “Did you know this?”
Emily nodded and straightened. “Yes, she told me.” Camilla had also told her about her conversation with Will but not about what happened in the park and why there seemed to be a wall between her and the former knight whenever they spoke.
A wall made of stained glass. She could barely see him, couldn’t touch him, but she sensed him just there. A shadow, a tall foreboding shapeless figure that spoke of strength and dared her to walk around the wall or run away.
“Go.” He’d told her that twice now.
It was likely she’d never hear it again.
“You knew and you didn’t think to tell me?” Luke asked his wife.
Emily blinked. “I could say the same about you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that Sir William was an earl.”
Luke fell silent. “Why would it matter what that man was or wasn’t? That man is none of your concern, wife.”
Emily’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth.
“Not now, Emily.” Luke rubbed his head. “I’ll speak to you later. Leave me with my sister.”
Emily stood and left the room.
Camilla turned on her brother.
“Don’t,” he warned. “I allow you to speak your thoughts because I am fond of you, but you’ll not speak to me about how I run my own house.”
Camilla tried again.
“I’m warning you, Camilla. Don’t test me tonight.” Luke leaned over the desk. “Don’t.”
Camilla sighed. Sometimes, her brother could be very trying, but she knew better than to push. If he wanted to, he could stop her book from ever being published. The publishers themselves wouldn’t speak to her without her brother or father there and since her father was never inclined to go with her...
She asked him instead, “Why didn’t you say anything to me when you found out the truth about Sir Will?”
“Sencio… and wasn’t it more fun this way?” He smiled again. “Actually, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”
“He never said a word.” Why?
“Why do you think that is?” he asked her curiously. “It makes no sense if his plans were to take advantage of you.”
Camilla crossed her arms. “I refuse to believe all men think that way.”
“And that’s why you’re a woman. How is your book coming along?”
It wasn’t. “I might change the direction… Romance is not for me.”
“Nonsense. You’ll do the romance, and you’ll get Sencio to help you.”
Sencio. She’d have to work to remember that. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Camilla’s head began to ache. “We… had a disagreement.”
“About?”
She said nothing.
Her brother glared. “When and where?”
“The park… the duchess was there.”
Her brother nodded. “I like him.”
Camilla scoffed. “You like his connections, you like his people.”
“Camilla, it’s the same thing, and it’s time you started to consider what this could mean for you. Earls are hard to come by. We’re like jewels, very rare.”
“And easily bought. Sold to the wealthiest bidder!” She smiled.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’ll go over to Van Dero’s home tomorrow and apologize for whatever it is you did to upset Lord Sencio.”
“Me? You’re the one who upset him tonight.”
“I did him a favor.” Her brother pointed at her. “And you’ll do well to remind him of that. You’re a prize, Camilla. You’re the daughter of a marquess. A famous author and you’re pretty. He’s much to thank me for.”
“Are you…?” Her eyes widened. “I’m not marrying him and either way, you have no right to arrange this. You’re not my father.”
Her brother shrugged. “Tell that to Mr. Reevas… and besides, if we left this up to our father, you’d die a spinster. Someone has to move you in the right direction.”
Camilla crossed her arms. “I can’t go tomorrow.” Her heart fluttered with the only good news she’d received as of late. She couldn’t help but smile. “Father plans to visit.”
Her brother lifted his brow. “At home?”
“Mother is going to visit Lady Belcher tomorrow.” She was the on
ly friend their mother still had, a friendship that had been formed in her early childhood. “He will come while she is away.” Camilla had arranged it all just after her father’s letter arrived.
Luke nodded. “Well, we’ll go after then.”
“I suspect I’ll be with Father for most of the day. Perhaps we can go another time.” She only hoped her brother would forget the idea by then.
“Camilla…”
“Don’t you dare ask me to find a way to cut Father’s visit short.”
Luke lifted his hand. “I wasn’t going to ask you to do that. I would never, because… I doubt it will be necessary.”
She knew what he was saying and what his thoughts were. He thought the visit would be short. He likely thought Father didn’t actually want to see her at all. But it wasn’t true. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d written and asked to see her.
She’d already arranged for the perfect day. She’d had the cook gather all the ingredients she’d need for his favorite treats and would take care to see that the air in the room was clean and sweet with the scent of apples, just as he preferred.
She’d brought flowers to brighten the space. She was ready for him. He’d stay. They’d have a wonderful time.
Her heart raced, and her throat felt tight. She tried to keep her thoughts positive, yet even still, her words came out strained. “I won’t have time for anything else tomorrow.”
And as she stared into his eyes, Will’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Be prepared for anything.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 1
* * *
Camilla should have taken Will’s advice. Even worse was having to share her embarrassment with her brother, because he’d ask and she’d have to answer him. He’d pull the whole ugly story out of her and then he’d tell her, “I told you so,” just as he always did.
She sat in the drawing room by the window the next day and watched the busy road. Her neck was sore from whipping her head around at every time she heard the approaching wheels of a carriage or the voice of man.
The Exception of an Earl Page 10
