Chapter 4
The carriage rocked gently as Raph studied the woman before him. Her chest rose and fell with uneven, furious breaths. Her eyes darted away from his scrutiny, and her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap.
He reluctantly let go of her, fearing she would bolt from the carriage. But to his surprise—and delight—she stayed.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and asked firmly, “What is your name?”
She stiffened, her lips parting before pressing shut again.
Defiant little flower.
“I… I told you… My name is Cassandra.” The lie was as plain as the fear in her eyes.
Raph exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience waning. His gaze lingered on the beauty spot near her lip as she bit down on it nervously.
Just a few moments ago, he had tasted her sweet breath and soft, clumsy lips.
She would need to be taught how to seduce and kiss.
His jaw clenched as he imagined training her to pleasure him, but he quickly dismissed the thought before his body reacted to her… again.
“I do not have the time for games, little flower. What is your real name?” His voice dropped dangerously low.
She met his eyes, then faltered. “Why must you press me so?”
“Because I do not suffer liars,” he growled, leaning closer. “Now, tell me your real name.”
A faint tremor racked her body as if she considered. Eventually, the words slipped out, soft and sweet like the sinful promises she had made in the alley. “Camelia… my name is Camelia Wilmore.”
Camelia. How fitting for a little flower.
But then her last name registered.
Raph stilled.
Wilmore?
A memory flashed through his mind of an earnest man, kind to a fault—the Earl of Lempster. He had crossed paths with Bernard Wilmore once, long ago. A decent soul in a world that devoured such men. And now his daughter stood before him, cloaked in deception.
“What business has the Earl of Lempster’s daughter wandering alone at night?” he demanded, though the answer was written in her guilty eyes.
She flinched when she heard her father’s title.
She is ashamed.
Raph watched the blush creep over her delicate features. A rare pang of guilt tugged at him, and with it the decision to reveal himself.
“My name is Raph Hartton, the Duke of Brentmere,” he said curtly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.
Lady Camelia’s eyes widened with realization, then closed at once, lashes sweeping down as if she dared not endure his gaze now that she knew who he truly was. Her cheeks burned crimson, and for a moment, he thought she might swoon.
Fully aware of the fear and fascination his name elicited, Raph waited, calm and watchful, yet she said nothing.
He studied her, his eyes traveling across the swell of her breasts, his jaw tightening as he recalled the press of her soft body against the rigid strength of his own.
He longed to hear her soft gasps again, and the memory of her warm skin beneath his palms sent unwanted heat through him.
He cleared his throat.
“To Lempster Estate!” he barked at his driver, who immediately obeyed. The sound of his own voice chased away the heated memories.
Lady Camelia’s head snapped up, fear flickering in her eyes. “N–No! Please, Your Grace. I shall hail a hackney and return home on my own.”
Afraid to be escorted to her home. What secrets fester behind those walls?
His fists clenched as dark thoughts flooded his mind. What disaster could have driven her to the foulest alley of Whitechapel?
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I have not made myself plain, Lady Camelia. I will escort you home.”
He watched her anger flare beneath her composure and admired her restraint.
The carriage rocked over the pebbled road as they neared Lempster Estate. His shoulder jerked, and the sharp pain made him wince. The ache was constant, a reminder…
“Are you hurt?” she asked, her gaze darting to him. For all her defiance, a flicker of concern betrayed her.
“You refuse to answer even one of my questions.”
But Lady Camelia only pressed her lips into a stubborn line, as immovable as ever.
What an intriguing woman.
“You’re no common woman, that much was clear. I’d recognize a lady from miles away, and your bearing, your speech, and that fine muslin clinging to you were proof that you didn’t belong in a place like that.”
Her cheeks flushed as she crossed her arms over her breasts, and Raph ground his teeth when the soft mounds pressed upward, plumping deliciously as if to tempt him.
“If you knew that, then why play with me? Why let me… humiliate myself if you never intended to—” She broke off. “To do anything?”
Raph leaned back and narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not the one owing an explanation here. You’re the one who stepped into that alley, pretending to be someone you’re not. Why did you leave the comfort of your home to chase this… absurd sum of money?”
Lady Camelia’s lips pursed, and she turned her face to the carriage window, avoiding his gaze. “I simply needed the money. Nothing beyond that concerns you.”
“Needed it?” Raph asked harshly. “For what? A new gown? A season in London? Or is it something more desperate?”
She fixed her gaze on the passing street, her silence more cutting than any retort.
“You are mistaken if you think it was for my own desires,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “It was… for my family.”
What torment could push her to sacrifice her virtue for her family?
Raph rubbed a hand over his chiseled jaw. “Listen to me, little flower,” he said slowly. “Courtesans don’t earn the kind of coin you’re chasing. Not in a single night, not in a month, and not even in a lifetime. Whatever trouble you’re in, this isn’t the way to solve it.”
“Thank you for your wise words, Your Grace,” Lady Camelia replied dryly.
Raph ignored her scorn. “Tell me the real reason that made a woman of your standing put herself in such a situation?”
Her eyes flashed with offense. “You’ve no intention of helping me, so why press me for answers?”
Raph leaned towards her, and the air between them thickened with the heady scent of her jasmine perfume. He traced the delicate curve of her lips and watched with a growing desire as she licked them nervously.
“If you want me to ruin your virtue, I’ll be happy to oblige.” He looked around before meeting her eyes again. “Right here, in the hushed shadows of this velvet-lined haven, I can offer you ecstasy, though not without its exquisite sting.” His words dripped with raw desire
She swallowed hard, and the sound echoed in the charged silence.
But Raph sat back as his tone shifted. “Fortunately for you, I’m not the sort to stand idly by while a lady sacrifices her virtue or her family’s honor to a fleeting lapse in judgment.” His voice hardened with conviction.
“You know nothing about my circumstances, yet you presume to judge me!”
“And you’re stubborn as a mule,” he retorted. “I’m trying to keep you from ruin, but you’re making it damn difficult. Why are you so desperate for money?”
She glared at him, her breath hitching, but said nothing. The silence stretched, thick with tension, until Raph pressed again.
“What is it? An unwanted marriage? A scandal? Speak, woman.”
“My family is ruined!” she blurted, her voice breaking.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if regretting the confession. Her eyes widened with panic, but Raph feigned indifference.
She is selfless and braver than most men I know.
He felt a sudden softness towards her, though a storm of conflicting emotions churned beneath his composed exterior.
Lady Camelia’s raw outburst stirred something primal within him. Her vulnerability sent a jolt of heat through his veins. Her bravery and her selfless sacrifice for her family anchored his admiration, tethering his lust to a fierce need to shield her and make her his.
“Ruined how? And by whom?” he growled.
Lady Camelia shook her head, her voice barely audible. “I have said enough, and it will make matters worse if word gets around. It doesn’t matter, anyhow. I needed the money to save them, but I failed.”
“You’re na?ve if you believe that selling your body was the best solution.”
If I hadn’t met her in that alley, if another man—
The thought made his fists clench.
“Na?ve? Don’t presume to lecture me,” Lady Camelia scoffed despite her quivering voice.
“I’ve weighed every consequence, every path.
This”—she gestured vaguely with a trembling hand—“this was the only way to save them. Do you honestly believe that I wanted to be in that filthy alley, pretending to be… to be that?”
“There’s always a choice,” Raph said, his voice firm but not unkind. “And you chose the worst one. Who did this to you and your family?”
I need to know.
His mind spiraled with dark thoughts.
“Why should I tell you? You’ll only mock me further, and you’re a stranger.”
“A stranger you were willing to give your virtue to?” he countered.
He caught the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her lips parted slightly, a silent betrayal of the heat stirring within her. He imagined those lips yielding under his, soft and pliant, her body arching instinctively towards his touch, desperate with duty and desire.
The sight of her arousal, so thinly veiled, sent a pulse of desire through him, though he held it in check. His jaw tightened with the effort, and so did the material of his breeches.
Lady Camelia’s fingers curled into the fabric of her skirts.
One of her nervous gestures.
“That was out of necessity, not desire,” she retorted, but her voice wavered, and the slight hitch in her breath told him otherwise, fueling the smoldering tension that hung between them like a charged storm.
“I’m not mocking you,” he responded quietly. “I’m trying to understand. If you’re in trouble, I can help, but only if you’re honest with me.”
“Help?” she scoffed, her gaze flicking back to him, bitter and disbelieving. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m still here. I could’ve left you in that alley, let you make a mistake. But I didn’t. Now, talk to me, Lady Camelia. Tell me the truth.”
She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” he pressed, leaning closer. “You’re not the only one who’s experienced hardship.”
Her lips trembled, and for a moment, he thought she might speak, but she held her silence.
Raph sighed, frustration warring with pity. “Speak or not, I’m not letting you go back to that alley.”
Not tonight, not ever.
“If you won’t help, I’ll simply find someone who will,” she declared defiantly.
A visceral image clawed at Raph’s mind: some faceless rogue cornering Lady Camelia in a shadowed alley, his calloused hands yanking up her silken skirts, taking her with crude, thoughtless hunger.
The thought sent a surge of molten rage through him, his heart pounding like a war drum.
His eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unyielding, as if he could erase the phantom violation with the sheer force of his gaze, a possessive edge glinting in their depths.
“You’re going home, where you will sort this situation out with your family in a proper manner.”
Lady Camelia glared at him, but he didn’t mind.
“You’re a tyrant,” she muttered under her breath.
“And you’re a foolish, stubborn woman,” he shot back. “But a brave one, I’ll give you that.”
The carriage swayed, its shadows wrapping them in a cocoon of tense silence. His gaze lingered on her, tracing the defiant tilt of her chin, the rapid pulse at her throat. She let out a small gasp when the carriage hit a bump, and the sound ignited a dark hunger in Raph.
“You don’t need to pin me with your eyes. I’m trapped here,” she said without looking at him.
Raph cocked his head, his eyes remaining on her despite her protest.
“You stare as if I could slip through the cracks of this carriage,” she added, but her blush betrayed her.
“You may try to escape me, but you will fail, little flower.” His words dripped with warning.
Her lips parted, and the bitten edge of her lip gleamed faintly in the dim light. He yearned to taste her again.
“Is that a threat, Your Grace?” Her voice quivered.
“It’s a promise.”
She tilted her chin and rolled her amber eyes as they traveled in silence.
Raph longed to claim this untamed woman, to tease her rebellion into submission with whispers and touches that would haunt her dreams as her clumsy, swollen lips would surely haunt his.