“It looks like it has gotten around,” Freya said.
We stood in a line, watching the secret complete it’s round and land on Lord Fischer’s party. A man approached their group, saying something hilarious to the laughing circle before Lord Fischer’s face, momentarily, slipped. He regained composure, laughing along with the rest of them, his eye darting to Cecily periodically.
“Oh, poor Lord Fischer,” I sighed.
“Poor him?” Rosalynn scoffed. “What about Cecily?” Who was, at that moment, curtseying to the party and moving away from them, her head held high and disappointment written on her features.
I lifted a shoulder. “If she cannot overlook the scandal then perhaps they were not meant to be anyway.”
Freya eyed me. “Because of her experience in scandals?”
“No,” I explained. “Because her name will never be spotless. She brings a fair share of disgrace to any relationship with those rumors from school. Her husband needs to be strong enough to support her and give her back some credit.”
“Regardless, I am glad I am not mentioned in the book.” Rosalynn laughed, but it was mirthless. “I could not imagine the shame of being discussed so brazenly among society.”
I speared her with a look. She had the grace to look abashed. “It's different with you,” she tried to explain. “The papers have never said anything directly hateful about you.”
I tried to understand how saying that I guffawed like a caged bird was kind, but nevertheless, she did not understand. Regardless of the subject, it was uncomfortable to be so openly discussed. It was as though the articles gave Society the license to analyze my life and my choices; regardless of how wrong they were about my choice in men.
“Well, I feel for them. And I vow that if one more article unfavorably mentions my name, the paper will regret it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Laid up in bed with her cold, Mother was unable to read the papers before I properly disposed of them—save for one article. Which was a very good thing, indeed.
Alone in the breakfast room, I pushed an egg around my plate while I contemplated the options available to me. The article this morning had been blunt in its description of Almack’s the night before, including the men I had danced with, the men I had sat out of the dances with, and who was going to be taking me to the park today.
Just how did this writer have access to that information? I strained to remember who had been nearby when Lord Cameron requested the outing for today, but I had been slightly dizzy from the waltz and it could have been any number of people.
But more importantly, why did anyone even care? The gossip articles had become less about exciting things going on with socialites and had narrowed down its focus to my every move. Granted, I was keeping busy, but not busy enough to warrant such pointed focus.
Now, I had to make due on my promise. Whoever was writing these articles was going to pay.
Pushing away from the table, I folded up the article and tucked it into my gown. I filled a napkin with sausages for Coco and returned to my bedroom, only to find her happily chomping away on eggs and kippers brought up by Molly.
“She has no taste, does she?” I said thoughtfully, eyeing Coco as she ravished the eggs. She licked her plate clean and trotted over to sniff the napkin of sausages I held in my lap.
“She’s going to be a fat one, she is. Mark my words.”
“Better fat than starving,” I rebutted, opening up the napkin and letting her eat her fill. Which, incidentally, was all five of them.
“You need to change your gown, miss?” Molly asked, standing beside the clothes press.
I fingered the edge of the long sleeve I had chosen to cover my bandage. I would likely only need the gauzy dressing for a few more days, for which I was immensely grateful. A bulging forearm was not attractive. “No, I am going to take Coco for a walk shortly, so this dress will do just fine.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and watched Coco sniff around the floor momentarily before moving in front of the unlit fireplace and curling into a ball on the cushions Molly had laid out for her there.
“She’s right at home, she is.”
“Exceedingly so,” I agreed. “Right from the very beginning. Molly, can I ask you a personal question?”
She looked up, her dark hair falling out of its bun and framing her face. She was a lovely person, even if she was only a maid.
“You may choose not to answer,” I said in preparation, “but do the servants talk about me? I mean, to other servants. Some very personal things about me are making their way into the newspaper.”
Molly looked me square in the eye, something I was not quite accustomed to with her, and said, “I’ve heard nothing coming or going with other households, miss. And if you excuse my saying, those articles sound like they talk about things us servants wouldn’t even be there to see happen. I’m not sure how it could be coming from downstairs.”
She made an especially valid point.
My shoulders drooped. “I suppose I only wanted to find an explanation.”
“An easy explanation,” she corrected.
Shamed, I stood, clasping my hands before me. “I will await Lord Cameron in the drawing room. Will you have Coco brought to me when he arrives?”
“Yes, miss.”
Leaving her to finish straightening my room, I escaped the embarrassment of our conversation. Pulling the article out once again I scanned it repeatedly, hoping for some clue that would lead me to discover the writer. I did not want to become the next person victimized by merciless gossip the way Cecily had been or Lord Fischer last night. The way things were moving with this columnist, it was increasingly possible that were I to slip up in any manner, my mishap would be bandied about London.
Not that I was planning to make a mistake, but knowing I had a spotlight on me made it all the more uneasy a prospect.
Lost in thought, I jolted at the sound of a boot hitting the metal fire poker. Lord Cameron stood across from me, leaning beside the mantle and grinning.
“How long have you been there?” I asked.
“Quite long enough to wonder what in heaven’s name you are so deeply concentrating on.”
I stood, wiping my hands down the front of my skirt to smooth the wrinkles and consequently, my thoughts. I pulled on the tug rope and requested the footman to send for Molly and inform her that Lord Cameron had arrived. If he was confused by the request, then he did not show it.
“We must speak in code,” I explained once the footman had departed. “No one knows that I have Coco in the house.”
He tried to temper his amusement, but I could see it clearly in his eyes. “I have a hard time believing you to be successful.”
“Well, even if the servants have figured it out” —which even I had to admit was a distinct probability— “keeping my mother in the dark is the main objective.”
As luck would have it, my father came in the room, utter confusion written on his tired face. “Lord Cameron,” he boomed, stepping forward to shake his hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I have come to take Miss Cox on a walk to Berkeley Square, sir.”
“Indeed?” Father turned to me, his eyebrow raised. “Capital, I say.”
Molly came down the hall, Coco in her arms. I shot her a pleading look. She halted, unsure, and I turned toward my father, where he stood beside Lord Cameron and out of view of my maid.
“Father,” I emphasized, “I believe we must be on our way if we are to avoid the afternoon heat.” Molly immediately spun toward the front door. She would likely be waiting for us outside.
“Yes, yes.” He nodded his head, so obliging. “Best be on your way.” I had never seen him so accommodating before and a sliver of me resented Lord Cameron for being the reason for it. A large slice of me resented my father more.
Lord Cameron’s amusement, however, was quickly tipping the scales back toward him.
Father escorted us outside, never once
questioning who might be chaperoning our outing to the park. Propriety required my maid to attend and she would join us once father retired inside. That he didn’t seem to notice her absence in the meantime only served as evidence of just how pleased he was with my outing. I wanted so badly to nip his enthusiasm in the bud, but I would have to wait until Lord Cameron was not around if I didn’t want to embarrass—or enrage—my father.
Lord Cameron walked beside me down the street, his hands casually clasped behind his back. Molly let Coco loose when the dog saw me and began eagerly barking, and Lord Cameron paused momentarily before tipping his hat to her. “You are much improved after your bath, Coco. But where is your leash?”
“She hasn’t one.”
He turned startled eyes on me. “Whyever not? How are you to protect her against a vicious hound this time?”
In truth, I hadn’t thought of that. “Well, I suppose that is why you are here.” I laughed at his wry expression. “She minds well enough,” I added. “We’ve taken a number of walks since she has come to live with me.”
“A feat, indeed.”
We both watched her lope ahead, sniff a patch of grass, and then slowly meander back to us. I called for her when it was time to cross the road and she jumped into my arms daintily. I was proud of her for her supreme obedience and was absolutely going to reward her in the morning in the form of extra bacon.
“I must admit,” Lord Cameron said, drawing me toward a bench and gesturing for me to sit. “I find myself amazed.”
I nodded. “Coco has turned out to be something of a delightful surprise.”
“Yes. Her, too.”
I glanced up sharply, but his face was a work of stone. I blushed at the insinuation but could not find anything within myself to base it on. I swiftly shoved away his artful flirtation. We watched Molly toss a stick for Coco to chase, the small dog fetching it with enthusiasm, over and over again.
“Do you miss Kent?” Lord Cameron asked.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “It’s lovely. Quite a contrast to your Scottish wildland.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, affronted. “I am an Englishman through and through. The ability I have to throw a stone from my rooftop and hit Scotland with it has nothing to say for my roots.”
I eyed him sideways. “True. I suppose I ought to keep my opinions to myself when I’ve scarce gone further north than Cambridge. I am gathering my opinions from Rosalynn’s descriptions.”
He scoffed lightly. “Slightly biased, I assume.”
I lifted a shoulder. “She loves her home, though you may not hear her say so.”
He straightened on the bench, turning his head away to watch Coco ignore Molly’s stick and sniff at a tree, her small tail wagging furiously. “Because of the people who live in it.”
“No, she loves her family,” I defended. “She merely suffered being the only female with a pack of—”
“Tyrants?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I was going to say brothers, but ‘tyrants’ is also accurate.”
Silence engulfed us in an awkward, thick cloud. I searched for something to say, but I did not know how to convince him Rosalynn cared. It was strange to me that he was unaware of it, and I considered the possibility that he did not know her as well as he might have had they remained together; a definite byproduct of children being sent away to school for the majority of their growing up years. Can a close relationship be built on summers and Christmas holidays?
“I suppose we ought to go,” he said.
I was mortified. Clearly I had overstepped, but it was an innate reaction to defend Rosalynn. Though I found myself enjoying the easy, artless conversation. I plucked up my courage. “We needn’t yet. I apologize if I overstepped by presuming to know Rosalynn’s mind.”
“No, that’s not it.” Lord Cameron pointed to the far side of the park. “It appears that Coco wants to eat that squirrel.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
We raced for the tree on the opposite side of the park where my dog barked ferociously, her tiny paws scraping at the trunk in an attempt to climb. Molly was running toward them but was not yet halfway there, while the squirrel, safely up in the branches of the tree, raced back and forth in a taunting rhythm.
By the time we reached them, Molly was trying to pull Coco away, but every time she got her arms around the dog, Coco would jump back down and resume her post at the base of the trunk.
“Coco, come,” Lord Cameron demanded with all of the authority being the son of a duke instilled in him.
I was utterly shocked when Coco disobeyed. I did not believe it possible to contradict such a command.
“Well, she is your dog,” he said wryly.
I tried not to read too much into that.
“Perhaps I ought to go find a rope,” Molly suggested, breathless.
Lord Cameron stepped forward, sneaking up behind Coco while she barked relentlessly at the poor squirrel and scooped her up in one smooth motion. He pivoted away and I struggled to keep up with his long strides, taking Coco from his arms after we safely crossed the road.
“You naughty girl,” I said softly. “You have been bullied before. You really must know better. I am ashamed of you and you’ve lost your extra bacon treat.”
I felt the burn of Lord Cameron’s gaze and caught laughter dancing in his eyes.
“Must you judge me?” I said harshly, instantly regretting my words for how taken aback he looked.
“Judge? Miss Cox, the only thing about you I judge is the silly pact you and Rosie made when you were school girls.” His lips formed a sarcastic smile. “You know, the impossible one that was ill created and ill-sustained.”
I was never so vexed in all my life. So many angry thoughts floated through my mind that I immediately determined the best course of action would be to say none of them at all. If Lord Cameron had shown me anything from the very beginning of our acquaintance, it was that he was not open-minded and would not welcome my radical ideals. There was no sense in trying to convince a brick wall that the garden before it was lovely; the brick wall would never hear or see anything to begin with.
Setting my gaze forward and holding Coco closer to my chest, I hastened toward my house at the far end of the street. Lord Cameron picked up his pace to match mine.
“Are you truly offended? That was meant to be a joke.”
I stopped in my tracks to face him head on and he had to backtrack a few steps to meet me. “Do you mean that honestly?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze landing somewhere over my head. He was not the tallest member of his family, and though he was of a good height, he only reached a head’s length over my eye line. He could not answer me, which I knew would be the case. I turned and continued to my house.
“Miss Cox, do not be silly.”
“Heavens, no. Silly? I should never. I should always be amiable.”
He ran a hand over his face and I took a twisted pleasure in seeing him so irritated.
“I am sorry if what I said bothered you.”
I scoffed. “But are you sorry you said it? No! You think me naive. You simply cannot imagine that a young woman would choose not to wed, or that I would believe there could be more out there for me than to do someone else’s bidding for the rest of my life.”
“No, I cannot,” he said, agitated.
“Then we are done here,” I said, reaching my front steps. “Thank you for the walk, and good day.”
He remained behind when I mounted the stairs to my front door, Molly racing up before me to open it and let me inside. Every part of me wanted to look back at him before the door closed, but I proudly refrained. I caught his outline in my peripheral vision and was glad I had not given into the temptation.
I slouched against the back of the door, Coco still clutched in my arms, when a shriek pulled me from my brooding.
Mother stood at the base of the stairs across from me, one hand clutched to her heart and the other firmly supportin
g the banister.
“Elspeth, what are you doing in this house with that creature?”
“Mother, this is my dog. Her name is Coco and she is very well behaved.” I held her out for inspection, my mother’s mouth drooping in shock. After a minute I said, “I shall be in my room if you need me,” and took myself upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“She’s a lovely thing,” Freya said, scratching Coco behind the ears. She knelt before the makeshift bed near the fireplace while Rosalynn paced from my bedroom door to my window and back. I sat on the trunk in front of my bed and watched her pace, growing dizzier the longer she walked.
It was the morning after my park escapade with Lord Cameron, but I found I could not relay the whole of it when Rosalynn initially asked how it went. She was confused about why he had asked me in the first place, but since I was just as ignorant on the matter, I was hardly the person to ask. His motives in my mind were as simple as wanting to see Coco, which was accomplished. If his secondary goal was to rile me up, then that was also perfectly achieved.
“Are they going to let you stay?” Freya asked Coco, though I knew she was really asking me.
“It matters little what my parents say. I could not possibly give her up.” I watched Rosalynn grow more and more restless. “Besides,” I said absently, “it is not as if my household claims a legitimate reason for not having a dog. No one has an allergy to speak of.”
Rosalynn stopped suddenly at the window, looking out over the park. I turned to Freya, who was scowling deeply at Coco.
“Gracious,” I said. “Whatever is the matter?”
Her expression immediately snapped back to normal, shooting me a wide smile. “Nothing, I was only wishing Mother was not allergic.”
“You shall not have to live in the same house with her for the rest of your life.”
“It would be my luck to marry a man allergic, too,” she said wryly.
Love in the Bargain: A Sweet Regency Romance (Women of Worth Book 1) Page 12
