The Wish (The Blooms of Norfolk Book 3) Page 6

“I was several years below him. It is a wonder he ever took notice of me,” he replied with no false modesty.

  “Rutley told me you were brave and loyal while at school. You won his respect when you stood up for your friend during a brawl at Eton.”

  He remembered the day well. His friend Peake was being bullied by some of the older boys. In those days the viscount was quite shy and kept to himself.

  “I would like to think most people would defend their friends,” he replied to Helena’s comment, wishing for another topic of conversation.

  “Would you pass the salt, Ambrose?” Isabel asked.

  “Of course.” He handed her the item, ignoring the use of his first name. He didn’t want to draw attention to her familiarity.

  “Everything is delicious.” Lady Bowles raised her glass of wine. “You are an accomplished hostess, Lady Rutley.”

  The young woman Miss Eliza was seated next to Mr. Simpson. It sounded as if she was complaining about some ailment or another.

  “Lord Norfolk, I hope you had an encouraging appointment with my uncle this afternoon.” Lady Camellia sounded sincerely interested which surprised him after her behavior last time they were together. Perhaps it had something to do with the frown she wore when Isabel had addressed him by his Christian name. It suited him to think the lady could be jealous.

  “Very encouraging, Lady Camellia.” He’d nodded to the apothecary in the drawing room but that had been the extent of their interaction that evening.

  “I am glad to hear you say that. My uncle is very good at his profession.” Mr. Simpson caught Camellia’s gaze. She smiled brightly at her uncle.

  He caught his breath. To be the reason she smiled like that...

  Camellia added, “My grandfather wanted him to be a doctor or a clergyman. Uncle was always interested in herbs and medicines. I think he was relieved he was the third son and could do as he wished.”

  “Many see not being the first son as a disadvantage, but I do think there would be some freedom in it,” he replied. “Less responsibility.”

  “You have the responsibility of three sisters.” Camellia narrowed her gaze on his face.

  “The eldest is recently married. I also currently have an aunt in my household although she is not a burden by any means.”

  It was the truth. Aunt Abigail had been instrumental in keeping the family stable after the death of his parents. Rose had clung to her like she was another mother. He’d been grateful for Abigail’s help with his sisters while he grieved.

  Lady Bowles cleared her throat. “How is the newly married Lady Chastain? Iris was always a favorite of mine.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two more courses were served before Lady Bowles stopped peppering Lord Norfolk with questions. Camellia had made polite conversation with the man. Her duty was done. The marquess and her uncle had merely acknowledged each other that evening, making her wonder what had passed between them that afternoon.

  The men stayed behind for brandy and cigars while the ladies removed to the music room.

  Lady Bowles took a seat beside Camellia on a green damask sopha. “Helena tells me you both grew up visiting your uncle in the village.”

  “Oh yes. Our mother is often unwell. Her nerves. Our father thought a few weeks in Downham Market every year would be a nice respite for Helena and myself.” She said the words matter-of-factly although she could detect some resentment in her voice.

  “And your father is well?”

  “Very well,” she replied.

  Helena laughed. “He always doted on us girls. Camellia and I were quite spoiled, really.”

  “I think it is very fortunate you came to the area, Helena,” Lady Bowles said with a wink. “If not, you would have never met Lord Rutley.”

  Helena nodded. “Indeed.”

  “How did you encounter your husband, Lady Bowles?” Camellia asked, curious as to why Lady Bowles never mentioned her own husband. “Perhaps I will meet him while I’m at Rutley House.”

  “Lord Bowles does not like to leave our home,” the lady replied with a tight smile. “He pressed me to accept Helena’s invitation.”

  There was a short silence.

  “Are we going to have an impromptu musicale?” Miss Eliza asked.

  Helena nodded. “When the gentlemen join us, I thought perhaps we could try a game of magical music.”

  Eliza clapped her hands. “I adore that game!”

  “I am so glad,” Helena said sweetly to the petite blonde who looked very much like a younger version of her aunt.

  When the gentlemen rejoined them, Helena explained the rules of the game to her uncle.

  “One of us leaves the room while the rest determine what chore he must complete. The player is guided in discovering his task by the playing of music. When the player is close to the object or action he must do, the music is louder, the further away the player is the music is softer. The music stops when you have completed the task.”

  Her uncle nodded. “That sounds straight forward enough.”

  “I will be the first player.” Lord Rutley stood and left the room.

  There were several suggestions as to what task the earl should perform.

  “There is a fan on that small table,” she said. “Rutley must locate the fan and use it.”

  “A splendid idea,” Helena replied. She sat on the bench at the pianoforte. “Fetch my husband if you would, Camellia.”

  Rutley followed her back into the room. She took a seat and Helena played a soft melody on the pianoforte.

  The earl walked about the room getting closer and closer to the table. The volume of the music increased and stayed very loud when he stood beside the table. Rutley picked up the fan, the only other item on the table being a candelabra. The music continued. Finally, Rutley opened the fan and fanned himself.

  The music stopped. There were noises of approval from the rest of the party.

  “You’re next, Camellia,” Rutley said and took a seat on a chair near his wife.

  She left the room and shut the door. A few moments later Miss Eliza came to retrieve her.

  Helena played the same music. At first Camellia walked to one end of the room away from the group. The music was very soft. As she walked closer to the group the volume of the tune increased. When she stood next to Lord Norfolk the music was at its loudest. She reached out to touch his shoulder, no change in volume. She felt her cheeks heat as the man looked up at her, his soft smile accompanied by an intense gaze.

  She noticed a tall plant stand behind Norfolk’s chair with a bell upon it. Feeling foolish for having touched the gentleman, she removed her hand, skirted his chair, and rang the bell on the stand. The music stopped.

  “Bravo, Camellia!” her uncle said.

  She bowed to the rest of the party and retook her seat.

  Miss Eliza begged to be the next player. Her uncle was next. Soon after, Lord Rutley declared the evening a success and their guests took their leave.

  * * * * *

  Ambrose’s first test of adhering to his diet at a social engagement was over. He’d foregone alcohol all evening.

  “Brandy?” Rutley asked him after dinner.

  He shook his head. “No. I need a clear head to fend off Lady Bowles’ questions.”

  “She is rather persistent,” Mr. Simpson said with a shake of his head.

  “There was an attachment at one time?” Rutley asked.

  “I thought we might marry,” Ambrose replied. “The lady preferred a bigger estate and larger fortune to mine.”

  Rutley next spoke about the weather and village to Ambrose’s relief. The apothecary was pleasant enough, possibly his seeing Ambrose adhere to his prescribed diet had smoothed the man’s ruffled feathers.

  At dinner, he’d chosen meat and vegetables with the least amount of sauce. Lady Bowles watched him select his food but made no comment. For the dessert course he opted for poached pears.

  It was a fine thing he’d never craved baked goods. No
w that sugar was the enemy he was surrounded by sweet delicacies.

  Mr. Simpson asked after Helena’s health.

  “She said she felt very well today,” Rutley replied. The earl looked at him. “My wife is with child. We haven’t told anyone else other than Camellia. Helena’s mother will descend upon us like a black cloud when she learns the news.”

  “Surely the woman cannot be so disagreeable?” he asked.

  Mr. Simpson snorted. “A more disagreeable woman I have not met.”

  “The lady is wont to complain of a new illness every day,” Rutley said. “Mr. Simpson says she has no ailments. She uses her feigned maladies to keep Camellia near her. Helena says the complaints of sickness grew worse once she married me and left the family home.”

  “That doesn’t sound a pleasant existence for Lady Camellia,” he said with a frown.

  “It isn’t,” the apothecary replied. “Lady Hull uses guilt to manipulate her daughter.”

  “That is outrageous!” Both men nodded at his words.

  Later in the music room Helena mentioned that he’d been invited to stay on at Rutley House for a few days. Lady Bowles instantly fished for an invitation to return to the manor house.

  Tomorrow there was to be a walk along a small ornamental pond on the estate followed by a picnic. It would be a chance for the exercise he needed. He would also have two days to discover how he’d offended Lady Camellia.

  He smiled to himself. Her confusion when she’d touched his shoulder had been obvious. Her innocence appealed to him. From her facial expressions during the evening, Lady Camellia was obviously not pleased with Isabel’s marked attention toward him.

  Ambrose was glad when Lord Rutley pronounced the evening over. He was very tired. Better not to overdo it. He must keep a seizure or his headaches at bay if he could. He might not have much time left and he wished to spend more of it with Lady Camellia.

  * * * * *

  Camellia wouldn’t take a breakfast tray in her room despite the possibility of seeing Lord Norfolk in the breakfast room. She didn’t want him to think she was avoiding him. His warm smile when she’d touched his shoulder last night had disconcerted her to say the least.

  He was there when she went downstairs. Alone.

  “Good morning,” she said and proceeded to the sideboard to select her breakfast.

  She chose toast, eggs and fruit. The octagonal breakfast table could accommodate eight people. She took a seat not quite across from Lord Norfolk.

  Camellia sampled the chocolate placed before her. It was warm and spiced. The eggs were fluffy, the fruit very fresh. The food was so good she wanted to sigh aloud with pleasure.

  “You look to be enjoying your meal,” Lord Norfolk said with a smile.

  “I am.” She felt a familiar heat on her cheeks. “Is it so obvious?”

  He replied, “It is refreshing to see a woman enjoy her food rather than acting like she doesn’t eat.”

  “We eat in private,” she replied. “Women are brought up to believe it is unladylike to eat very much in front of a gentleman.”

  “Dashed silly,” Norfolk replied.

  She nodded. “But true.”

  They ate in silence for several minutes. She wondered when Rutley would choose to join them.

  “Will you tell me why you have taken a dislike to me?” The marquess’s gaze was on her face. “You sat with my housekeeper for a few minutes at Marcourt and since then you have been rather cool toward me.”

  She hadn’t expected him to confront her about her behavior. Her mouth opened. Words didn’t come out.

  He raised a brow. “Yes, a gentleman shouldn’t bring up such a personal subject. I happen to believe if you have a difficulty with someone you should articulate it.”

  She took a breath and said, “I am disappointed that you think so little of your sisters that you will not tell them of the severity of your condition.”

  “You are disappointed in my behavior.” When she heard him say the words a thought came to her. She’d admitted to caring about his actions. He added, “I merely wish to shield my sisters from unpleasantness.”

  She shook her head. “If they care about you, they would want to know the truth. Are they too fragile, too weak to be exposed to illness?”

  “That is not the point,” he replied.

  “The honorable thing to do would be to tell them the truth.” She raised her chin. “They are stronger than you think. Women do not need to be shielded from unpleasantness.”

  “You may be right. Thank you for your advice. I will think on it. Are you a person who can give advice as well as receive it?”

  She shrugged. “Of course.”

  “Why don’t you tell your mother the truth? Tell her Helena lied about having a house party. The truth that you don’t want to be her nursemaid.”

  She blinked, stunned at his lecture. Again, she could find no words. Rutley decided at that moment to join them for breakfast.

  Chapter Nine

  When Rutley took a seat at the breakfast table she excused herself and went upstairs to her bedchamber.

  “How dare he!” She stomped her foot in frustration once she was alone. The fact that what Lord Norfolk said was true didn’t make her feel any better. “Who is he to share his opinion on the way other people live their lives?”

  She was twenty years old. The debutantes she’d come out with were all married. Camellia slumped onto her bed. She thought back to last season and the season before that. The more she examined her mother’s behavior when they were in London, the more she concluded her mother didn’t really want Camellia to make a match. Whenever anyone had shown a marked interest in Camellia at an event, her mother would be struck ill.

  “I never thought about it before...” She would ask her mother about it when next they spoke.

  Anna entered the bedchamber to help her mistress dress for the days’ outing. Camellia donned a green sprigged day dress, serviceable boots and carried a shawl. Her bonnet was new, her parasol dyed to watch her dress.

  “You look quite lovely,” Helena said as Camellia descended the stairs to meet her in the entry hall. “The rest of our party are already outside.”

  Lady Bowles stood beside Lord Norfolk. She looked very elegant in a dark blue walking dress. Camellia thought she might like to be married simply to be allowed to wear darker colors.

  Rutley and her uncle rounded out their party.

  The ‘lake’ was a smallish body of water beyond a long ditch, or haha, on the west side of the house. Their path included shallow hills.

  “The servants will bring us luncheon in approximately two hours,” Helena said to the group. “We shall eat al fresco by the lake.”

  The day was clear and warm for April. She assumed she would walk to the lake beside her uncle. This is where Helena intervened.

  “Lady Bowles, you really should speak with my uncle about the symptoms that forced Miss Eliza not to join us today. Lord Norfolk please walk with Camellia. Rutley and I shall lead the way and pick out the easiest path to the lake.”

  Nobody questioned her instructions. She and Ambrose took up the rear position.

  Lord Ambrose wore a light gray coat and cream-colored trousers. She stood far enough away from the gentleman not to take his arm. After their conversation at breakfast she didn’t know what to say to the man. Her irritation from earlier was gone. She would let his behavior be her guide. Parasol open to shield her complexion, they started off.

  Camellia remembered the placement of the lake from her last visit to Rutley House a year ago. They skirted a walled garden and walked along a gravel footpath.

  “Do you often visit Rutley House?” her companion asked lightly.

  “Since the wedding two years ago I have only been here once before.” She kept her eyes on the path before her.

  They walked in silence a moment, listening to Lady Bowles describe her niece’s stomach ailment to Camellia’s uncle.

  The grass beside their makeshift path w
as closely clipped. As they approached the haha, it became longer. There was a path through a hedge and then they climbed the first shallow hill. Norfolk offered his arm and she took it.

  Once they were down the other side of the hill, she released him. “Thank you, Lord Norfolk.”

  A bird called from somewhere nearby.

  It was now her turn to make conversation. “Are you feeling well today?” she asked him.

  “Very well, thank you. The walk has been invigorating.”

  “It is remarkable how well you look now compared to when I saw you at the inn.”

  He replied, “I was in a sorry state. I should have stayed in my carriage, but I was being stubborn.”

  She glanced at him for a moment. “May I ask if your village physician agrees with my uncle’s diagnosis?”

  “Doctor Gaines does not,” he replied, his voice grave. “He still contends I have a brain tumor.”

  She sighed in response. “And what do you think, Lord Norfolk?”

  “I have lived with the specter of a tumor for several months. I do not have the luxury of hoping I only diabetes. My physician maintains I have a tumor and I see no reason to doubt him.”

  “And your better color and how well you are feeling has nothing to do with the diet my uncle prescribed?” She still did not look at him, afraid the frustration she was feeling would show on her face.

  “Your uncle admits that my migraines were probably not a result of the sugar sickness. I had another instance of good health recently. It caused me to hope for a miracle. I would not be fooled again, Lady Camellia.” His words were said in a tone of finality.

  His comments caused her no little worry although her concern was merely for his sisters and their pain if they lost their only brother.

  They crested another hill. She reluctantly took Ambrose’s arm. This time when they were back on level ground, he covered her hand on his sleeve with his.

  “I am sorry if I offended you this morning and again just now. I am not used to hearing advice from young women.” He removed his hand. “Well, other than the opinions of my female relatives.”

  She stepped in a shallow hole and stumbled. Her arm gripped Ambrose’s forearm even harder. His cologne enveloped her. The spicy scent merely added to his appeal.