smile pleasant, even as eyes bore darkly into Rebecca’s. Drat! She did not realize he had been listening so intently to their conversation.
“Are you certain, Cameron?” the dowager countess asked.
“Yes. Her nurse said Lily had a touch of the sniffles this afternoon. I think it best for everyone if she stays in her room.”
“Another time perhaps,” Rebecca said, her heart clouding with disappointment.
The earl’s displeasure was almost a physical entity. She could sense the level of mistrust he felt for her rise higher. But she had not been able to stop herself; the chance to finally see her daughter had been too tempting to resist.
“Tread carefully, Miss Tremaine,” he whispered in her ear.
Startled, she nearly dropped her empty glass. Mustering her courage, she lifted her chin and stared at him. He gave her a disarming smile, that she quickly realized was for the benefit of any who might be watching. Then he inclined his head and left to play the amiable host to the rest of his guests.
Rebecca sagged a little as he strode away, slowly letting out a long breath. That was a close call, far too close for comfort. Yet in her heart she knew she would do it again.
She drew her hand across her brow, then realized she had been twisting the tiny pearl button on her glove so hard it had come loose. Seized with a sudden idea, Rebecca yanked the thread until it broke, then eagerly went in search of Lady Marion.
“I seem to have met with a slight mishap.” Rebecca held out her hand, showing the viscountess where the small pearl button was missing from the top of her glove. “Miraculously, I have located the button. Is there somewhere I can repair the damage before dinner is served?”
“Yes. There is a smaller parlor three doors to your left. I will instruct one of the footmen to have a maid sent in with a sewing kit.”
“Thank you.”
Heart thudding with excitement, along with a touch of guilt, Rebecca quietly left the room.
Chapter 3
Rebecca Tremaine was not at all what he had expected. Cameron took a sip of champagne, that he barely tasted, and watched her openly from across the room. She was lush, her figure rounded in a sensual, almost suggestive manner. She was taller than most women of his acquaintance, statuesque really, and he was annoyed to realize the perfect match for a man of his height.
Her honey-colored hair was brushed sleekly back and twisted at her nape, showcasing the elegant line of creamy ivory skin on her neck and throat. Her face was lovely, with high cheekbones that gave her a slightly exotic look and a wide, full mouth that added a mature sensuality to her appearance. A pair of perfectly arched brows over bright-blue eyes hinted at both intelligence and humor.
The dark green silk gown she wore had short, tight, off-the-shoulder sleeves, a cinched waist and full skirt that was fashionable, tasteful and flattering. Each time he gazed at her, Cameron unexpectedly felt a stirring in his loins. A decidedly unwelcome event.
Caught somewhere between annoyance and fascination, he continued to watch her as she circulated among the guests. There were small, subtle signs of her nerves. The way she clenched and unclenched the material of her gown in her left hand, the deep sighs she took when she thought no one was looking, the ever-so-slight trembling of the crystal goblet she held.
Yet through it all she somehow managed to keep her head high, her shoulders back, her expression open and pleasant. That earned her a grudging bit of his respect.
He was surprised to admit that under different circumstances she would have intrigued him, with her lovely face, sensual body, and proper attitude. But these were hardly normal circumstances.
A part of him wished she had been a featherbrained ninny, or a brassy, immoral creature, clearly lacking refinement and breeding. Both would have been easy to dismiss, easy to ignore.
He wondered about Lily’s father. Was he the first of her many lovers? Yet, much as he would like to dismiss her as a woman of loose morals, Cameron had no proof to verify that opinion. His secretary had made inquiries. Miss Rebecca Tremaine was the daughter of a respected vicar, well liked and highly regarded in her community.
Seven years ago she had become engaged to a young lawyer. It was a proper match that most agreed was advantageous for both parties. Then her fiancé had died unexpectedly, tragically in a freak accident. Calculating the dates, Cameron realized Lily had been born six months later. It seemed probable that he had been Lily’s father.
By all accounts Miss Tremaine and her fiancé had been very devoted to each other and many declared it a true love match. As much as Cameron wanted to fault the couple’s behavior, he could not find it within himself to be so harsh. They would hardly be the first couple in history who had anticipated their wedding vows.
It was a pity that he had been unable to persuade his sister, Charlotte, to attend this evening’s dinner party. She always kept herself quietly in the background, keenly observing those around her. Cameron valued her opinion and would have wanted to know her impressions of Miss Tremaine. Best of all, Charlotte would not have pressed him for details as to why he wanted the information.
But at their parents’ encouragement, Charlotte had refrained from formally entering society. They feared her physical deformity, coupled with her plain looks and intellectual mind, would practically assure her social failure.
There were times Cameron wondered if they had all done Charlotte a great disservice by keeping her so cloistered. At five and twenty it seemed almost certain she would remain a spinster for the rest of her life.
Like Miss Tremaine? Obviously, she was unmarried, but with her beauty and refinement that state could easily change. Though society held that all women desired marriage above all else, he could see that might not always be true. Perhaps it was Miss Tremaine’s choice to remain single.
Cameron handed his empty champagne glass to a passing footman and accepted a full one. Miss Tremaine’s marital state was none of his concern. Her interest in Lily, however, was very much his business.
Her ploy to get the child down to the drawing room before dinner had annoyed him, yet he could not entirely fault her for the attempt. Still, he would have to be on guard to make certain nothing else like that occurred. He, and he alone, would decide when, and if, she was to meet the little girl.
The thought that he needed to keep an eye on her had no sooner entered his mind when he saw Miss Tremaine slip from the room. What now? Nearly choking on the last sip of bubbling nectar in his glass, Cameron abruptly excused himself and raced after her. He saw her climbing the grand staircase to the third floor and promptly increased his stride.
“Looking for something, Miss Tremaine?” he asked.
Her back stiffened at the sound of his voice, and he knew she recognized it as his. Slowly, she turned around. “I have ripped my glove, my lord. Lady Marion was kind enough to request that a maid be summoned to help me repair it.”
“My cousin told you to wait on the staircase for the servant? Most peculiar.”
She looked him directly in the eyes, something that women rarely did. The gesture earned her another scrap of grudging admiration.
“Lady Marion instructed me to wait in the small parlor, but I neglected to listen closely to her directions and was confused as to where it was located.”
A bald-faced lie, and they both knew it. He debated calling her on it, but decided it was futile to be so boorish. Besides, what exactly could he accuse her of doing? Leaving the drawing room to fix her glove and being an inattentive listener when told where to wait for assistance?
There was an awkward silence. Cameron searched for something to say, but was finding it difficult. A meaningless social exchange about the weather was an insult to both of them, given the bizarre reality of their situation. Yet this was hardly the time or place for a lengthy personal conversation. His temper was on edge, his emotions escalated,