But none of that had been selfless. He’d wanted to dance with Prue.
Badly.
Her expression when she saw him made him wish he was a better man than he was, that he could be deserving of such a look. There was not much he could do about that now, but he was trying all the same.
Impossibly, he was changed for having been bound to Prue during the party at Tinley. His manners were much the same as they’d ever been, but he found himself doing fewer and fewer things that would bring another stain to his reputation.
Why, he’d even gone so far as to consider making amends with some of his former friends!
Considered and had started, though he hadn’t done very well there, but progress was being made. What had come over him, he couldn’t fathom, but something about the shy girl who felt comfortable with him made him wish for former associations he had once known. They had always done him credit, though he had done little enough to deserve it, and reengaging them would undoubtedly do him a world of good.
The list was not a long one, but it seemed to catalogue his faults well enough.
The reminder was not a pleasant one.
But at least he had no amends to make with Prue. He’d done everything right by her, as far as things went, and helping her to overcome her anxieties last night had been yet another brick he could lay at the foundation of their friendship.
He smiled to himself now as he slowly walked through the relatively quiet London streets.
It had been surprisingly natural to be with Prue again. He’d not seen her in weeks, not since their farewells at Tinley, and seeing her across the theater, in far more splendor than he’d ever seen her, had taken his breath away. She had looked regal and elegant, ideally suited to the finery adorning her, and the same spark of life danced in her fair eyes. Her lips curving in a hint of a smile as he applauded the lackluster tenor… The candor in her gaze…
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until that moment.
And then to dance with her? After finding her nature so unaltered?
If it were a sin for one to be gleeful at the distress of another, not for mercenary reasons but for the opportunity it provided, then he would be burning in hell for quite some time.
Once Prudence Westfall realized her own strength and overcame her demons and anxieties, she would have no need for saving, or for a man like him in her life. She would slay her own dragons and save herself, if not others around her.
Until then, he rather liked saving her and looked forward to doing so again.
While he could.
“Camden, where are you off to?”
He turned in surprise to see Phillip Turner crossing the street in his direction, and he smiled at the sight, which was a rarity of late. He’d made it a point to avoid Phillip for the last four months or so since their fight, finding it too taxing to his pride to maintain a friendship so tremulous as theirs apparently had been. But after Tinley, he had sought out the Turners, swallowed whatever pride he’d thought himself in possession of, and found that his apprehensions about that moment had been entirely unfounded.
They had renewed the friendship with enthusiasm, and somehow it was as if the past had never happened.
Camden would never tell Phillip how much it meant to him to have that connection once more, as he was hardly the sort to express such sentiments, and Phillip would undoubtedly have been mortified to hear it, but he could not deny that he was grateful.
Phillip gave him a sardonic look, no doubt wondering at the smile Camden wore. “Well?”
Camden shrugged easily, continuing on his way as Phillip fell into step beside him. “I thought I’d call upon Prudence Westfall.”
“Really?” Phillip asked, his deep voice laced with interest.
“Yes,” Camden clipped with a scowl. He fixed his gaze ahead and maintained as calm a demeanor as he could. “We became acquainted at Tinley House.”
“And your sweeping in to dance with her last night after she nearly caught fire was purely to maintain such an acquaintance?”
Camden closed his eyes, biting back a groan. Perhaps not having friends would be a better alternative after all. He’d forgotten about this part of it.
“I don’t know much about her,” Phillip went on, ignoring Camden, “but after last night, I was curious, and Mariah tells me…”
“Oh, Lord…” Camden rolled his eyes heavenward, unsure if he were praying or not.
“…that she’s remarkably shy and stammers incessantly.” Phillip looked over at Camden in speculation. “You had a stammering cousin. Can you understand her?”
Camden sighed, wistfully recalling how thoroughly he had thrashed Phillip months ago. “She does not stammer incessantly, and yes, I can understand her, as would anyone who gave it any sort of effort.”
Phillip considered that and seemed to be fighting a smile. “So, last night…?”
“Anyone could see that Miss Westfall was distressed.” Camden shrugged again. “I simply saw fit to do something about it.”
“Yes, because being with you is so much of a comfort.”
Camden stopped and turned to his friend, raising a daring brow. “Are you curious about my intentions, or indignant at what your wife thinks I’m doing? Because this feels like a very familiar path we are on, only you were not so amused last time.”
Now Phillip grinned outright. “I am perishing with curiosity, and so is Mariah. I don’t know if you know this, Cam, but she rather likes you.”
That was a hilarious thought, and Camden laughed accordingly.
Mr. Turner did not find the thought nearly so amusing. “She does!”
“I highly doubt that,” Camden assured him, shaking his head. “She likes cataloguing my faults, and she likes having you in my presence, so you might somehow become amusing, but that is all.”
Phillip chortled beside him. “If you say so, Cam. But she insisted I invite you to dinner tomorrow if I saw you.”
“No doubt she has a line of questioning prepared for me,” Camden muttered.
“Of course, she does. It’s Mariah.”
“I have no idea why you married such a demanding woman.”
“I fell in love.”
“That’s your problem.”
“So, you’ll come?”
“Of course.”
They shared a smile, all teasing aside, and then Phillip looked the slightest bit uneasy. “In the interest of full disclosure…”
Camden slowed his step, reluctance suddenly weighing upon him. “Yes?”
Phillip winced. “She’s invited Dartmouth, too.”
Camden stopped completely and turned around, beginning to walk the other way. “No.”
“Cam, come on,” Phillip begged. “It’s been a year!”
“No,” he said again. “Not after… No.”
Phillip grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “He’s been trying to apologize for months, and you will not allow it.”
Camden looked at Phillip’s hand and then into his face. “You would think a man with the education of Dartmouth would understand.”
Phillip gave him a reprimanding look. “He’s at fault, and he knows it. You’re the one maintaining distance, though. Why are you pushing everyone away?”
Cam yanked his arm out of his friend’s hold. “It’s amazing how inconvenient friends are.”
“Cam, you didn’t even attend his wedding.”
He scowled at the reminder. “He wouldn’t have wanted me.”
“And yet, you were invited.”
Camden looked away, eyes narrowing as he peered off into the distance. “Formality.”
“You sure?”
Of course, he was sure. Dartmouth had thrown away twenty years of friendship over a speculation that Camden had refused to join him on, and the fallout from such an apparent betrayal had been great indeed. Rumors had increased, and invitations had decreased, and when the speculation had failed, Camden had been without any of the significant losses of t
he others, yet he had still been the one labeled at fault.
Dartmouth hadn’t been ruined by any stretch, but it ought to have been enough to humble him sufficiently.
Yet their distance remained, and Camden hadn’t even considered altering the arrangement.
And yet…
“No,” he finally said on a rough exhale. “No, I’m not.” He looked over at Phillip, whose expression was all too knowing. “Fine, I’ll come. But I cannot guarantee that I won’t destroy something if Dartmouth says something wrong.”
Phillip nodded once. “I’ll tell Mariah to use the second-best china.”
Camden rolled his eyes dramatically and turned back towards Prue’s house. “Spare me the domestications you have undergone. If I inspected your rooms, no doubt I’d find lace handkerchiefs.”
“Only if Mariah left hers in there.”
“Good lord, why would she be in your rooms?”
Phillip’s rather frank and superior look was enough to make Camden ill, and he did not bother hiding his disgust.
“You’ll get there, friend,” Phillip assured him. “Perhaps Miss Westfall…”
“Shut your mouth,” Camden snarled before he could finish the thought. “If you think that’s what this is…”
Phillip was laughing too hard to comment, and Camden pushed him off the sidewalk, but unfortunately, no carriage was rolling by to trample him.
“I’ll leave off Miss Westfall,” Phillip assured him as he returned to his side. “I’ve just never seen you actually call on anyone, let alone play the hero. Why exert yourself?”
“I’m no hero,” Camden replied in a low tone, “but I’ll exert myself for my friends, particularly if it’s the right thing to do.”
Phillip made a noise of assent beside him, but no other comment came forth.
Camden looked at him in anticipation. “That’s it?”
Phillip shrugged. “If it’s the right thing to do, why question you?”
“Because it’s you. And you’re still following me.”
“Accompanying you. But only because it’s on the way to where I was going anyway.”
Camden paused before adding, “And because you want to see where she lives, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“You cannot possibly be serious!”
“What on earth were you thinking?”
“Do you even know how much of a bad idea that is? Because I can tell you just exactly how bad. In detail.”
Prue sighed and looked over at Elinor. “N-no, thank you. I don’t want to kn-know.”
Elinor looked scandalized. “But that’s what I do!”
“Camden Vale?” Grace sputtered, looking almost as indignant as Charlotte and Elinor were. “He could not be more inappropriate a candidate for you.”
Prue’s cheeks colored quickly, but she kept her gaze steady on her friend. “I did not s-say he was a candidate.”
Grace reared back a little, then looked around at the rest. “Then what are we saying?”
“As far as I can tell,” Edith mused in her natural brogue, sipping slowly on the tea she’d just finished preparing for herself, “we are opposed to the idea of him for anything in general.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I have no idea who he is or why this is so terrible, or what even happened. I’ve only come for the tea.” She sipped it again and nodded in appreciation. “Much better than at my house.”
“Your house doesn’t have two sticks to rub together,” Charlotte snapped as she flicked a dark look to her.
“It does so,” Edith shot back. “What do you think the tea is made from?”
Prue coughed a laugh and put a hand to her heated face.
The Spinsters had descended upon her unexpectedly this morning, and launched into a campaign against Camden, though they had yet to actually tell her what they were protesting or why. She had only danced with him last night, and only once. He had saved her from what could have been a disastrous evening, stormed back into her life in the most wonderful way, and her friends protested it.
It hardly seemed fair.
It was not as though he had become a permanent fixture at her side after their dance. He had returned her to her seat, and actually maintained a safe distance from her. Nobody would have known he was intentionally standing near her, nor could Prue have described the relief at having him there. He would have saved her again if need be, but his presence had ensured that it was unnecessary.
No one had questioned her last night, and even her mother hadn’t said anything on the subject. She was too upset that Prue had looked so ill when dancing to make any sort of comment on her choice of partner.
Eliza would have something to say about it, but she had yet to call.
That would probably come later.
“… and she’s not even listening!”
Prue looked up into Charlotte’s distraught expression and sighed again. “What, Charlotte?” she asked patiently. “What have I done?”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You danced with him!”
“I did. And not for the first time.”
Charlotte made a peculiar squawking sound and flopped into a chair while Elinor screeched as though Prue had developed an odd rash.
Izzy, who had joined in the protests, albeit to a lesser degree, watched Prue with wide eyes. “I think you had better explain yourself a little, dear. When have you danced with him before?”
Prue shook her head slowly and related to them the rest of the stories from Tinley House, this time including Camden in the details. She told them about the terrace, the dancing, the riding, the drawing… She revealed everything.
Except for the theater.
There was no explaining that.
“You were alone with him,” Charlotte replied faintly when Prue had finished. She put a hand over her eyes and sunk further into the chair. “You could have been ruined.”
“Shh!” Izzy hissed, looking unsettled herself. “Don’t say that!”
Edith looked Prue over in assessment. “She doesn’t look ruined to me…”
Prue smiled at her with all the warmth she possessed.
“It’s only because he didn’t do anything he usually does!” Elinor insisted hotly. “If you knew what I know…”
“No!” Prue interrupted loudly.
Elinor clamped down on her bottom lip, positively livid.
“Prue,” Grace prodded gently, her dark eyes round. “Last night… when he asked you to dance…”
“He was saving me from the rest,” Prue told her wearily. “He could see that I was growing overwhelmed and agitated, and he knew that dancing with him would put me at ease.”
“Nothing about him should put you at ease!” Charlotte protested as she flung a hand out.
Prue shrugged a shoulder and reached for her tea. “It does. I don’t even stammer with him.”
Charlotte gaped at that, her mouth working soundlessly.
It was enough to make Prue wish she felt like smiling.
“So, is he… courting you?” Izzy asked gently, looking distressed by the thought.
Prue shook her head firmly. “No. He has never said or done anything to make me think his intentions are anything but platonic.”
Charlotte mouthed the word ‘platonic’ as if it were foreign.
Prue ignored her. “We are only friends, Izzy. Nothing more.”
“Friends!” Elinor blurted out. “Friends, she says!”
“Elinor,” Grace spoke firmly, “shut up.”
Elinor covered her face with her hands, her voice audible through the obstruction of her palms, though not coherent.
Prue speared Charlotte with a cold look. “I was not aware that one had to have potential friends outside of the Spinsters approved by the Spinsters in order to keep them.”
Charlotte stared at her in outright horror and straightened up very slowly. “Prudence Westfall, if you think I object to your having friends outside of our group,
even of the male sort, you are almost as simple as your mother.”
Grace snorted a laugh and covered her mouth quickly, as everyone else smiled, even Prue.
“This has nothing to do with friendship,” Charlotte went on, still looking as severe as Prue had ever seen her. “It has everything to do with you. I find Camden Vale to be an inappropriate association for you purely because his reputation is that disreputable, and you know my standards in that regard to be very low indeed.”
Torn between offended and warmed by Charlotte’s concern, Prue only stared back at her, waiting for the next blow to fall.
Charlotte softened a little, smiling at last. “I care about you very much, lamb. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Prue returned her smile. “I know.”
“Don’t see him again, please. At least until we can weed out truth from gossip where he is concerned.”
“That seems fair,” Izzy agreed, brightening. “We can send Elinor out to be especially discerning there.”
Elinor voiced some response from behind her hands that sounded very much like an offended complaint, but no one listened.
Prue looked at them all for a long moment, weighing the options.
“Miss Westfall, you have a visitor,” Harper intoned from the door.
“Who is it?” Charlotte asked a bit sharply, earning herself a scolding look from Izzy.
Prue gave the butler a patient look. “W-who, Harper?”
“Mr. Camden Vale, Miss Westfall.”
Prue nearly laughed out loud.
“Noooooooo!” Charlotte howled, scrambling to her feet. “No, no, no…”
“I’ve shown him into the Green Room, Miss,” Harper continued, barely raising his tone over Charlotte’s.
Prue nodded once. “Very good. I’ll s-see him now.”
Three distressed sounds came from her friends, but she only turned to Edith with a smile. “Will you ch-chaperone, Edith?”
Edith smiled and placed her teacup on the table. “Lovely. Of course.” They rose at the same time and glided for the door, ignoring the protests of everyone else.
Out in the hall, Prue exhaled slowly, and Edith linked her arm with hers. “Well done, my dear. They’ll get over it.”
The Spinster and I (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 2) Page 14
