When she spotted a floppy-eared pointer loping toward her, she froze out of habit. But as the dog came closer, she realized she was not filled with her usual terror. Oh, her heart still raced, and she was muttering a silent prayer that the beast would simply pass her by, but the buzz of fear no longer filled her ears, and when the dog skidded to an inelegant stop before her and sat, looking expectant, it took her only three tries to work up the nerve to hold out her hand to be sniffed.
“Lelantos!”
Not only the dog’s name was familiar, but also the voice in which it was spoken, a halfhearted scold that made her smile. She looked up to find Mr. Fox striding across the open field, two more dogs on leads and a broken leash in his other hand.
“Why…why, Miss Burke? Is it really you?” he said, when he reached her side. Lelantos looked from one to the other, eager for praise, which came in the form of a scratch behind his ears from his astonished master. “What luck, old boy. That’s some quarry you sighted. We’ll make a hunter of you yet.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Fox,” Cami said with a curtsy, although she could not quite keep her eyes from looking past him, wondering whether he was alone.
“And you, Miss Burke.” He bowed. “I had not heard you were back in town.”
“I’ve only just arrived. You are—you are well? Your family is well?”
“Oh, yes, yes. All splendid. Even the dogs,” he said, looking down at them.
Gathering her courage, she reached out to pet all three of them in their turn. “Where’s the fourth?”
“Medea?” A flush crept across his cheekbones, unrelated to the warm summer day. “At home. She’s…she’s another litter on the way, and I have every hope that this time—”
He was as nervous as an expectant father. “I’m sure motherhood will agree with her, Mr. Fox,” she said, wishing she could forget who had given the poor dog her unfortunate name.
“You have called on your aunt and uncle, I’m sure? And…and your cousin, of course?”
She could not decide what to call the note in his voice. Something more than polite curiosity. “Not yet. Has she—?”
Her question was forestalled by the arrival of her sister, clutching a spray of flowers—specimens, as Erica would say—in her ungloved hands. “May I introduce my sister, Miss Erica Burke? This is Mr. Fox.” She paused, uncertain what description of their relationship to add. But it mattered very little, as Erica was too taken by the dogs to pay much attention to their master. Social situations had never been her strength.
Cami glanced at the horizon to discover she was facing south again, toward town, like a broken compass drawn to a false point. “I wonder, Mr. Fox, if you would tell me—”
“You’ve heard the news, I’m sure—”
They spoke over one another. Cami snapped her gaze to Mr. Fox’s face. His eyes were scanning her with interest, but she fared no better at reading the expression in their gray depths than she had with his voice. “No, I can see you haven’t,” he said. “Well, Lady Felicity should be the one to explain it all.”
“Please, Mr. Fox.”
But he was not to be persuaded. “I’ll take you to Trenton House now, if you like. My curricle is just in the lane. But the dogs—” He looked suddenly worried, remembering, she supposed, her fear of them.
“I—I don’t mind them so much,” she said. And it was the truth. “But Erica—”
“I’ve promised to take tea with Mr. Beals, remember?” her sister said.
It would be a shocking lapse of both duty and propriety to leave her sister to the company of two gentlemen they hardly knew, even if, as Mrs. Drake had whispered, they weren’t exactly the sort to threaten a girl’s virtue. “I couldn’t possibly…”
“Oh, Cami. Go on,” Erica insisted, dusting off her hands one at a time on her skirt. “Maybe someone in our uncle’s household will know what became of Lord Ashborough after he left Dublin. It would be a relief to have you stop fretting over him.”
A shudder of shock passed through her. Had she really been so transparent? She jerked her gaze to Mr. Fox, but he was busy tying a knot in the broken leash and appeared not to have heard.
Together, they descended the rise, Mr. Fox apologizing for not being able to offer both of them his arm. When they had taken their leave of Erica, they walked on to his curricle. Only blind Tiresias was allowed to ride; the other two dogs happily trotted beside them on the short drive into town. In less than half an hour—time spent in discussion of the weather and various other summer topics that felt to Cami like a deliberate attempt at diversion, rather than Mr. Fox’s customary pleasantries—they arrived on Brook Street. He helped her down but declined to accompany her inside, saying he had better be off with his menagerie.
Although she told herself she had imagined it, Wafford seemed to smile as he showed her in. Hardly had she crossed the threshold when Felicity approached, arms outstretched. “Cousin Camellia, oh, thank goodness. I’ve been so worried. Did you make it to Dublin safely?” Cami nodded. “And your family—?”
“We were fortunate, compared to many.”
“When did you return to town?” As she reached Cami, she hesitated. Her brow furrowed, as if she had just remembered something unpleasant. “It was really very heartless of you not to have written.”
“I’m sorry,” Cami said, scrambling for an excuse. “I—I feared my aunt would take a dim view of my letters.”
“Oh, well, you needn’t have worried about that.” Ready
