Camilla’s hand. “You did this. I know you did. But how? What did you say to convince him?”
“Nothing of importance. I merely appealed to his sense of decency.” Not for anything would she tell the countess of the bargain she’d made. The woman would leap to the wrong conclusion, and that could only worsen matters.
Unless the countess had wanted Camilla to do something to keep him here?
She’s trying to enlist you as an ally in her scheme. And she knows it won’t work unless she can convince you that she is slighted and put upon.
Ridiculous.
He was right about one thing, though—there was more to the situation than met the eye. And given his mother’s words earlier, she knew his lordship wasn’t the only one who didn’t wish to discuss the past.
Very well. She’d have to be more creative in uncovering this tangle. Lady Devonmont had made Camilla and Jasper part of her family, and families helped each other. So the least Camilla could do was try to restore the rest of the countess’s family to her. No matter what it took.
5
D inner was pure misery.
Not that Pierce was surprised. How could it be anything else? He was sitting in the very chair his father had always used, staring at the lofty portrait of a grandfather he’d never known, and listening to the achingly familiar voice of his mother prattling on about nothing while Mrs. Stuart shot him furtive glances.
The damned woman didn’t understand—he couldn’t act as if the past twenty-three years hadn’t happened. Mrs. Stuart expected him to make witty conversation with his mother . Might as well ask him to give a sermon in hell.
Especially with bitter memories resurrecting themselves every moment he sat here. As a boy, he’d taken his meals in the nursery, but he’d been allowed to join his parents for dinner at Christmasand special occasions. Those nights invariably deteriorated as Father berated him for being weak and sickly, until he retorted with some bit of insolence that got him banished from the table. The memory made his stomach churn.
He forced a spoonful of soup between his lips and swallowed, barely tasting it. Mother had always tried to mediate but had rarely been successful. It was as if Father wanted to drive Pierce off, so he could have Mother all to himself.
Well, if that had been Father’s aim, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, hadn’t he? And Mother hadn’t protested it.
Glancing over at her, he looked for signs of the heartless creature he knew her to be. But aside from her ornate gown and fine jewelry, which reminded him that what she really wanted was more of Father’s fortune, he could see nothing other than the mother he’d adored as a boy.
Except a far older one. He couldn’t get over how much she’d aged. Seeing it made something in his chest twist.
When that became too painful to endure, he turned his gaze to Mrs. Stuart. Instantly, the aching turned to annoyance. The woman was a bloody meddler, presumptuous and self-righteous, and so blindly loyal to his mother that it made him want to . . . to . . .
To respect her. He sighed. That was mad. Blind loyalty shouldn’t be an admirable quality. But somehow, in Mrs. Stuart it was. Perhaps because she was loyal for the most naive reasons. She considered it the right thing, the caring thing, to champion his mother.
It was the caring part that stymied him. How could she careabout a woman who’d abandoned her own son? Of course, the young widow didn’t seem to know that, and he wasn’t ready to tell her. Not until he had a better sense of what the situation was.
“Do you not agree, my lord?” Mrs. Stuart’s pleasant voice intruded.
Damn, his long stares had made her think he had an opinion on whatever nonsense she and Mother were discussing. “I suppose,” he said noncommittally.
“You didn’t hear a word, did you?” Mrs. Stuart said.
The woman certainly liked to speak her mind. “Listening appeared unnecessary. Once the conversation
“Nothing of importance. I merely appealed to his sense of decency.” Not for anything would she tell the countess of the bargain she’d made. The woman would leap to the wrong conclusion, and that could only worsen matters.
Unless the countess had wanted Camilla to do something to keep him here?
She’s trying to enlist you as an ally in her scheme. And she knows it won’t work unless she can convince you that she is slighted and put upon.
Ridiculous.
He was right about one thing, though—there was more to the situation than met the eye. And given his mother’s words earlier, she knew his lordship wasn’t the only one who didn’t wish to discuss the past.
Very well. She’d have to be more creative in uncovering this tangle. Lady Devonmont had made Camilla and Jasper part of her family, and families helped each other. So the least Camilla could do was try to restore the rest of the countess’s family to her. No matter what it took.
5
D inner was pure misery.
Not that Pierce was surprised. How could it be anything else? He was sitting in the very chair his father had always used, staring at the lofty portrait of a grandfather he’d never known, and listening to the achingly familiar voice of his mother prattling on about nothing while Mrs. Stuart shot him furtive glances.
The damned woman didn’t understand—he couldn’t act as if the past twenty-three years hadn’t happened. Mrs. Stuart expected him to make witty conversation with his mother . Might as well ask him to give a sermon in hell.
Especially with bitter memories resurrecting themselves every moment he sat here. As a boy, he’d taken his meals in the nursery, but he’d been allowed to join his parents for dinner at Christmasand special occasions. Those nights invariably deteriorated as Father berated him for being weak and sickly, until he retorted with some bit of insolence that got him banished from the table. The memory made his stomach churn.
He forced a spoonful of soup between his lips and swallowed, barely tasting it. Mother had always tried to mediate but had rarely been successful. It was as if Father wanted to drive Pierce off, so he could have Mother all to himself.
Well, if that had been Father’s aim, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, hadn’t he? And Mother hadn’t protested it.
Glancing over at her, he looked for signs of the heartless creature he knew her to be. But aside from her ornate gown and fine jewelry, which reminded him that what she really wanted was more of Father’s fortune, he could see nothing other than the mother he’d adored as a boy.
Except a far older one. He couldn’t get over how much she’d aged. Seeing it made something in his chest twist.
When that became too painful to endure, he turned his gaze to Mrs. Stuart. Instantly, the aching turned to annoyance. The woman was a bloody meddler, presumptuous and self-righteous, and so blindly loyal to his mother that it made him want to . . . to . . .
To respect her. He sighed. That was mad. Blind loyalty shouldn’t be an admirable quality. But somehow, in Mrs. Stuart it was. Perhaps because she was loyal for the most naive reasons. She considered it the right thing, the caring thing, to champion his mother.
It was the caring part that stymied him. How could she careabout a woman who’d abandoned her own son? Of course, the young widow didn’t seem to know that, and he wasn’t ready to tell her. Not until he had a better sense of what the situation was.
“Do you not agree, my lord?” Mrs. Stuart’s pleasant voice intruded.
Damn, his long stares had made her think he had an opinion on whatever nonsense she and Mother were discussing. “I suppose,” he said noncommittally.
“You didn’t hear a word, did you?” Mrs. Stuart said.
The woman certainly liked to speak her mind. “Listening appeared unnecessary. Once the conversation
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