by Sandra Heath
“Yes?” Sophie’s response was surprised, but they both knew Elizabeth’s words had been plainly audible through the door.
“You say you were in school in Bath?” Camilla went on.
“Oui, at Miss Simmonds’ Academy. I was there for three years. The czar heard such excellent reports of Miss Simmonds that he invited her to teach me in St. Petersburg, but she would not leave England. So I was sent here instead.” This last was said with more than a touch of resentment.
The czar’s ward was clearly an exceedingly proud and spirited young woman who had rightly been described as difficult, Camilla thought, pondering the prodigious stir recent goings-on in this very room could cause. The czar’s formidable sister was about to descend on the capital, and her fury could only be imagined if she learned how Mlle Arenburg had been permitted to get into such a compromising situation beneath the Prince Regent’s very roof.
The prince himself would be horrified, and as for Dominic and Lady Cayne, their dereliction of duty beggared belief. On the very eve of the grand duchess’s arrival, and with Alexander himself expected in June, how could they have been so remiss as to allow their charge to wander about unchaperoned?
But while these dire thoughts were passing through Camilla’s head, Sophie was still thinking about the much more mundane matter of the school in Bath. “I did not like Miss Simmonds,” she murmured.
Camilla smiled. “She can be quite a dragon,” she agreed.
“You know her?”
“I was once at the same academy.”
“I’m glad I do not have to go back there again, for she treated me like a small child and said I was too naughty.”
Camilla didn’t reply, for her experience so far of Sophie Arenburg suggested the headmistress was probably justified.
Sophie smiled then. “I like London, though, even if it does mean having to stay at Ennismount House.”
“Ah, yes, I understand Lord Ennismount and Lady Cayne are in charge of you at present.”
Sophie pulled a face. “Yes.”
“Perhaps you should be with them now, instead of being in here on your own?”
Sophie shifted her position slightly. “Yes, I suppose so, but I do not like them. They are both so—so stuffy—and Lord Ennismount behaves as if he is as old as his aunt.”
Camilla hid her amusement, for it was true, although there had been a time when Dominic had been the very opposite. She could remember the early days, when he’d been renowned for his roguish sense of humor, his dashing gallantry, and his willingness to flout any convention. Not now, however. Oh, certainly not now.
At that moment there was a slight scuffling behind the sofa, and Sophie showed great presence of mind by immediately pretending to sneeze. “Oh, pardon, madame,” she said, searching for a handkerchief in her spangled reticule.
Camilla affected not to notice anything odd. “It’s a little cool in here, and since we’ve already agreed you should go back to Lord Ennismount and Lady Cayne, perhaps we should leave now.” She got up purposefully.
But before Sophie had time to follow suit, the door opened and none other than Dominic himself came in.
Sophie’s face fell. “Lord Ennismount!”
“Mademoiselle,” he replied tersely, according her a brief but courteous bow. The fifth Earl of Ennismount was tall and coldly handsome, with penetrating blue eyes and thick coal-black hair that he always wore just a little longer than fashion dictated.
At nearly forty, he was acknowledged to be not only one of London’s most handsome lords but also one of its most eligible, and it was well known that the betting book at White’s contained numerous wagers as to when and who he would eventually marry. But these days his name was so rarely associated with any suitable lady that it was beginning to be felt he would remain unwed.
Camilla had stiffened defensively the moment he entered. The past, already so close tonight, was suddenly almost tangible. Her heartbeats quickened as conflicting emotions tumbled almost uncontrollably through her. They were the old emotions that had beset her almost from the very beginning where he was concerned, and the years hadn’t blunted their edge.
He affected her as much now as he had when she was only twenty. It was as if he wielded some immense power and was able to reach into her soul no matter how far apart they were. Elizabeth was so right. There had always been an atmosphere between them. But they’d never been lovers, never true lovers...
He was equally as startled to see her, and after a moment’s hesitation gave her a cool bow. “Good evening, Lady Camilla,” he murmured, before returning his rather irritated attention to Sophie. “Mademoiselle, your absence has been noted, and we’ve been searching everywhere for you. You should not have left Lady Cayne without permission.”
Sophie’s chin came up mutinously. “I do not have to tell you everything I do,” she declared.
“Yes, you do, Mademoiselle Arenburg. I like the situation as little as you, but the Prince Regent and the prime minister have decided my aunt and I shall have custody of you until the grand duchess arrives. That means we are responsible for you, and you are answerable to us, so the very least you can do is conduct yourself correctly. You should certainly accord my aunt the respect she is due.”
Sophie had the grace to look a little contrite. “I am sorry, milord, but I—I had a headache and came in here to be a little quiet.”
On the spur of the moment Camilla decided to back her up. “Yes, it’s true, sir. She told me she felt unwell, and I accompanied her here.”
Sophie was startled, and Dominic pursed his lips disbelievingly. “Did you indeed?” he murmured.
“Yes, I did indeed, sir.” When he spoke in that patronizing tone, Camilla would have supported even Old Nick against him.
“Well, if you’ve been with her, it’s clear she cannot have come to any harm, Lady Camilla.” He held her gaze for a moment, and then returned his attention to Sophie. “Please return to Lady Cayne, mademoiselle.”
“Oui, milord,” Sophie replied obediently. She glanced at Camilla. “Thank you so much for taking care of me, my lady.”
“It was nothing, mademoiselle,” Camilla replied, deliberately looking at the sofa so the girl realized the gentleman’s hidden presence had been known all along.
Sophie gasped. “I—I will go to Lady Cayne now, milord,” she said swiftly, then gathered her skirts to flee the room.
Dominic lingered. “Lady Camilla, do you still insist you’ve been with her all along?” he asked bluntly.
“Of course.”
“Yes, for no doubt you’d do anything you thought would confound me, wouldn’t you?”
“You flatter yourself, sirrah.”
“No, madam, I merely speak the truth.” He searched her cold face. “How long ago now the old days, hmm? How far away those countless hours of close and happy friendship?”
“My lord, I find it distasteful in the extreme that you, of all men, should attempt to remind me of how it once was.”
He smiled thinly. “Yes, I’m sure you do, for guilty conscience is a dreadful thing.”
She colored. “That is something of which you’d know a great deal, sir.”
“Possibly, but it is also something with which you are personally acquainted, madam.” Inclining his head, he followed Sophie from the room.
For a long moment Camilla could neither speak nor move, but at last she turned slowly toward the sofa.
“You can come out now, sir, whoever you are,” she said.
There wasn’t a sound from behind the sofa, and so she spoke again. “Sirrah, if you do not come out, I shall raise the alarm.”
Someone began to move then, and very slowly a sheepish young gentleman emerged. Camilla stared, for it was Elizabeth’s newly betrothed brother, William, Lord de Marne, the future Earl of Highnam.
“William?” She gasped.
He was of medium height, with a shock of chestnut curls and wide green eyes, and he avoided her startled gaze by making much of brus
hing some dust from his elegant evening clothes.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” she asked. “You’re engaged to Lord Penshill’s daughter!”
He looked at her at last. “Maybe so, but I don’t wish to be.”
“Nevertheless, you are! How could you be so foolish as to make advances to Mlle Arenburg?”
He pressed his lips together and looked guiltily at the floor.
“William, you must stop this immediately. Mlle Arenburg is the czar’s ward.”
“I love her, and she loves me.”
“William, she’s only seventeen.”
“Seventeen and three months exactly.”
“And the three months makes the difference, I suppose.” Camilla replied dryly. Then she gave him a cross look. “You, on the other hand, are old enough to know better. Apart from anything else, I understand your father’s threatening to disinherit you unless you do right by the Penshill match.”
“Only because he has a fancy to be a marquess,” William replied savagely.
“And because he and Lord Penshill are old friends.”
“My sister shouldn’t have told you all this. Sophie and I could hear everything she said.”
“Elizabeth and I go back a long way, and we’re still good friends, even though I’ve been out of town for some time. If she were to find out about his—”
“What would Elizabeth know of love?” he cried softly. “She’s too profligate for heartfelt emotion! I doubt she can even count the number of lovers she’s had. I, on the other hand, love Sophie, I mean really love her!”
“And you imagine such fine sentiments will persuade the czar to give his ward to you? You’re in Cloud-Cuckoo-Land if that’s what you hope. Pursue this affair and you’ll be penniless, for your father won’t finance you if you ruin his chance of becoming a marquess, or if you turn down the Penshill match.”
Camilla sat down, and tapped her closed fan in her palm. “I covered for you a moment ago, which is more than you deserve. Your conduct is reprehensible in the extreme. Have you any idea of the furor this will cause if it gets out? The czar’s sister is expected here at any moment, and the czar himself arrives in June, the last thing the Prince Regent and the government want is a scandal involving Mlle Arenburg!”
“But Sophie and I are deeply and truly in love, Camilla,” William protested urgently.
“I seem to recall that during one of your many visits to Summerton Park, you once said the same thing about my gamekeeper’s daughter,” Camilla retorted a little unfairly, for he’d been fifteen at the time.
“I was a child then! This is hardly the same thing!” William replied indignantly.
“William, you’re always head over heels in love with someone. You’re sighing over a new sweetheart each time I see you, so why should I accept this as different?”
“Because it is.”
Camilla’s fan continued to tap, and then she sighed. “So you keep saying, but I’m afraid the reality of the thing is less romantic. There’s far too much at stake here, so you must stop this affair immediately.”
“Camilla—”
“Immediately, William.” Camilla drew a long breath. “I want you to promise me you won’t see Mlle Arenburg again.”
“Would you have stopped seeing your late husband?” William challenged defiantly.
“That was different, Harry and I were free to marry each other.”
“But—”
“It’s no good arguing, William. You’re in the wrong, and nothing will make it right. It’s out of the question you should pay court to anyone other than Alice Penshill, and it’s even more out of the question you should think of pursuing Czar Alexander’s ward when the Grand Duchess Catherine is about to arrive in London. The international repercussions could be dreadful, as even I can see.”
William gave an ironic laugh. “Ah, yes, the international repercussions.”
Camilla caught an inflection in his tone. “Is there something you’re not telling me, William?”
“No.” He met her eyes.
“Then that is the end of the matter. You must forget Sophie Arenburg.”
“It’s damnably unfair,” he muttered.
“No doubt, but I trust you see I’m right?”
For a moment he looked stubborn, but then nodded.
“And you promise not to see her again?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Camilla got up. “Shall we rejoin the ball?”
Summoning the vestiges of good grace, he offered her his arm, and together they left the music room. But as they emerged they found Dominic waiting, and the dark look on his face was ample warning that he knew he’d been misled earlier.
Chapter 3
Acute embarrassment swept over Camilla as she realized he’d guessed she’d been less than honest with him.
William was dismayed. “Oh, lord ...” he muttered under his breath.
Dominic advanced. “I thought as much,” he breathed, giving William a furious look. “I’ll have words with you in due course, sir, but for the moment I suggest you make yourself scarce, before I forget my manners and give you the physical drubbing you deserve as well as the verbal one you’re going to get!”
“Lord Ennismount, I—”
“I trust I don’t have to remind you it’s in everyone’s interest to keep this unfortunate business quiet, not least your own, unless you wish your father to find out. Now get out of my sight, and stay away from a certain young lady, or it will be the worst for you!”
Without further ado, William hurried away in the direction of the ballroom.
Camilla made to follow, but Dominic caught her arm. “Not so fast, madam, for I haven’t finished with you yet.” He steered her back into the music room and closed the door. “Your conduct tonight has been questionable in the extreme, Lady Camilla. It seems the two years you spent cooling your heels in the country have affected your judgment.”
“How dare you!”
“No, madam, how dare you!” He replied acidly. “It ill becomes you to connive at an illicit affair between a seventeen-year-old girl and a fool like de Marne!”
“Connive? I haven’t connived at anything,” she fired back, loathing him so much that she could hardly refrain from striking him. Her indignation wasn’t made any better by knowing he was right, for she had indeed connived. To a certain extent, anyway.
“Then how would you describe your actions?” he challenged, his blue eyes as hard as flint. “You knew Mlle Arenburg was meeting de Marne in that room, and you lied to me to protect them both. I find that totally unacceptable behavior.”
“How can you, of all men, preach to me about unacceptable behavior?”
“My, how assiduously you cling to old imagined grudges,” he breathed.
“I imagine nothing where you’re concerned, sirrah,” she replied softly, the last word uttered almost in a hiss.
“And I’m under no illusions about the sweetness of your nature either, madam, or about your incredible ability to remember only half the truth when it suits you. But we’re wandering somewhat off course here, for we were talking of Mlle Arenburg. Maybe you refuse to admit that by assisting in any way in her dealings with de Marne you’ve been at best ill-advised, at worst downright lacking in principle, but perhaps you can be persuaded that you’ve been acting against the national interest.”
Camilla blinked. “Because she is the czar’s ward? Oh, come now—”
But he interrupted. “Yes, she’s the czar’s ward, but she’s also about to be betrothed to Prince Ludwig of Prussia, nephew of King Frederick.”
Camilla was aghast.
“So neither de Marne nor Mlle Arenburg chose to mention this to you?” he went on.
“No.” She was shaken. So that was what William had nearly spoken of when she’d mentioned international repercussions! It was too much of the young lovers. Not only was William already betrothed, but Sophie knew her own future had been mapped out as well.
Domini
c saw how stunned she was. “The official betrothal between Prince Ludwig and Mlle Arenburg is to take place here in London when the czar and King Frederick arrive in June, but the prince will be here in a day or so with the Grand Duchess Catherine. The grand duchess is the force behind the match, it’s entirely her idea, and her word is law with the czar, who dotes on her to an extraordinary extent. Offend her and you offend Russia itself.”
“I—I understand that, sir, but confess to being a little surprised that a mere mademoiselle, albeit one who is the czar’s ward, should warrant such a lofty match.”
He hesitated. “I know the reason, Lady Camilla, but cannot tell you.”
“By which you mean you don’t trust me?”
“By which I mean it’s better I don’t say anything.”
Camilla studied him. “Then I will draw my own conclusion. Putting two and two together, I suspect Mlle Arenburg of being rather more than just the czar’s ward, in fact I hazard to guess she might be his daughter, albeit on the wrong side of the blanket.”
Dominic didn’t comment.
She raised an eyebrow. “So I’m correct. Well, that would certainly explain the imperial family’s interest in her, especially as the czar as yet has no legitimate children.” She paused, her eyebrow still raised as she waited for him to answer.
“Madam, if you think I’m about to confirm or deny anything you’ve just said, you’ll have a very long wait.”
“Everything about you confirms what I’ve just said,” she replied. “Besides, she has the look of the Romanovs, and is haughty enough to be one when she chooses.” Camilla thought for a moment. “She obviously doesn’t know who her father is,” she said then.
“What prompts that comment?”
“Sir, if Mlle Arenburg knew Czar Alexander was her father, she’d be unbearably imperious.”
“As the Grand Duchess Catherine already is,” he observed. “She’s opinionated, mischievous, meddling, and much given to intrigue, and our government doesn’t in the least relish her presence here. It’s through intrigue that she happened upon Ludwig. He’s a minor princeling who frittered away his fortune and is in need of a suitable wife.
