Chapter 5
The Duke of Brentmere? God, help me!
Camelia had heard many stories about him. His illegitimate child and his father’s wrath were quite the scandal for some time, but she was not one to indulge in the downfall of others.
“I’ll walk you in,” the Duke announced firmly as they pulled up to Lempster Estate.
“N-No, Your Grace. I am perfectly fine, there is no need to escort me any further,” Camelia said quickly.
He raised a sable eyebrow at her, but eventually nodded in agreement.
The carriage rattled to a stop before the looming house, just as the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold.
They will wake up soon.
Camelia’s heart pounded as she glanced at the Duke. His imposing figure filled the cramped space, and heat pulsed between her legs when she briefly remembered how he felt against her—hard against her yielding softness.
She pressed her thighs together and lowered her gaze, afraid that he might read the thoughts she barely understood.
Before she could calm her body and mind, he opened the carriage door and stepped out, offering a calloused hand. In her rush, she bumped her head against the door frame and heard a hairpin drop to the floor.
There’s no time to search for it.
She ignored the blossoming panic and the flutter in her chest when she placed her palm in his waiting hand.
“Are you quite all right, little flower?” he asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
How dare he keep calling me that!
She shot him a glare, but despite her anger, her cheeks flushed at the endearment and the embarrassment of her own clumsiness.
“Yes, thank you,” she said curtly, her stomach twisting as she looked around, afraid her father or the servants might see their exchange. “I can manage from here, Your Grace.”
“I would hope so,” he replied dryly.
Camelia’s pulse quickened as he eyed her suspiciously. The familiar facade of her home, once a place of warmth, now loomed like a reminder of her family’s disgrace.
“I would appreciate it if this were kept between us,” she whispered tightly.
“Of course,” he replied simply.
“Well, goodbye then, Your Grace.”
Camelia curtsied, rising with deliberate slowness. Her gaze lowered, unwilling to endure his piercing eyes, which hinted at the deepest blue in the sunlight.
“Goodbye, little flower,” he murmured. His husky voice made her shiver.
Against her will, her gaze lifted, catching the shadow of concern across his features. But there was no time to dwell on what it might mean.
With weak resolve, she turned and walked away from the dark stranger who had saved her from her own ruin. Only when she heard the rumble of his departing carriage did she release a breath she had not realized she had been holding.
God help me—
The front door suddenly swung open before she could finish her little prayer, revealing her maid. Camelia entered quietly, pressing a finger to her lips to silence Julia.
They walked into the corridor, but she stopped short when she recognized the back of Lord Montague sitting with her skittish father opposite him. Beside Lord Montague sat Margaret, who was sickeningly pale and silent.
What in heaven is going on? The day has not begun, and he is already here?
Dread filled her.
“Lady Camelia,” Julia said softly so as not to draw attention to them. Her gaze darted between Camelia and the study. “Lady Camelia, if you don’t mind my asking, where have you been? I’ve been searching for you all morning.”
Camelia’s throat tightened. “I decided to take an early morning stroll,” she whispered, although she was aware that Julia could see through her lie. “And how dare he come here this early? Has he not granted us twenty-four hours?” she asked.
Julia looked pensively towards Lord Montague. “He arrived with the sun, Lady Camelia.” Worry was etched into her brow.
It must be bad news.
Camelia flinched when Lord Montague turned around and spotted them. A sickening grin spread across his face.
“Ah! I thought I heard whispers! Lady Camelia, you made it just in time for the final settlement with your darling sister, Lady Margaret. Her marriage to me will proceed as planned, three days hence,” he called out.
Her blood boiled at his smug tone.
He’s gloating already, the vile man.
“Lord Montague.” She surged forward, her voice shaking with fury. “You gave us no time, not even the twenty-four hours you promised us to collect the money. You cannot force Margaret into this when you’ve given us no chance to save ourselves.”
Lord Montague’s lips curled into a sneer. “Save yourselves? Your family is beyond redemption, Lady Camelia. Your father has squandered every opportunity.”
It cannot be true!
“B-But,” she sputtered, her hands clenched, her nails biting into her palms. “But we will find the money to repay you. We just need more time, right, Papa?”
She faced her father, who lowered his gaze, not before she spotted his unshed tears.
“I’ve had enough of your hysterics,” Lord Montague said coldly.
“All I expect from you, Lady Camelia, is to ensure that Lady Margaret understands precisely what will be required of her as my wife. Youth is no excuse for ignorance, and I have never tolerated inadequacy in anything that belongs to me.”
“I refuse!” Camelia’s body shook with rage.
“Camelia!” Her father stood up abruptly, and the room fell into an intolerable silence.
Lord Montague barked out a laugh. “Maybe I have chosen wrong, Lord Lempster. It seems Lady Camelia contains a fire that requires some taming, too.”
He sneered as he pushed back his chair and stalked towards Camelia, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your father’s recklessness brought this ruin, not I. You should be begging for my generosity!”
I’d sooner catch the plague than beg this man for anything!
“Men like you do not deserve generosity,” Margaret hissed, causing Lord Montague’s head to snap towards her.
“Did my young bride-to-be say something?” he snarled.
“That is enough!” Lord Lempster boomed, his face flushed with anger. “Lord Montague, I believe everything has been settled here. There is no need to insult my daughters further.”
Camelia gaped at her father’s surrender to a monster who considered himself a man.
Lord Montague placed a hand over his heart as if hurt. “I’d rather die than insult your daughters, Lord Lempster!”
His death will do us all a favor.
“But Papa—” Margaret broke off when the Earl raised his hand.
Lord Montague laughed mockingly. “Anyhow, you’re quite right, Lord Lempster. My business here is done.”
“Papa, please. I do not wish to marry him!” Margaret cried, her voice laced with panic.
Camelia’s heart clenched at the plea.
I have to save my sister.
“Watch your tongue, girl. I’m offering you a future, something your father can no longer provide. If you refuse, you’re only shaming your name along with your spinster and widowed sisters,” Lord Montague spat.
Camelia flinched at the insult, and Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but their father silenced her with a look of disapproval.
“Speaking of your spinster sister.” Lord Montague turned his sly gaze upon Camelia once more. “I am curious, Lady Camelia. From whence have you returned at so unseemly an hour?”
At once, both Margaret and the Earl fixed their eyes on her, their expressions sharp with suspicion.
Bloody hell!
Camelia’s heart twisted as guilt and anger warred within her.
“I was… taking a walk in the garden,” she answered as calmly as she could.
“Oh? At this hour?” Lord Montague cocked his head.
“Are we not allowed to walk in our own gardens now?” Margaret snarled.
“Ah, yes,” Lord Montague murmured without turning his serpentine gaze away from Camelia. “Well, I suppose you should all enjoy everything you own for now because soon it will all be taken away.”
His lips curled back, revealing a row of perfect, pearly white teeth.
“It’s mine in all but name, Lord Lempster. With the debts you owe, you should be glad that I’m only taking Lady Margaret and not everything you own. Until then, you may… enjoy the gardens.”
“I do not believe we need your permission to do so,” Camelia shot back and watched with satisfaction as Lord Montague’s mouth twitched in annoyance.
“Not now, Julia,” the Earl said suddenly to the maid, who stood nervously in the doorway.
“I apologize, my lord, but there is a—”
“Not now,” the Earl spoke with such sternness that even Camelia felt afraid for her beloved maid.
Julia nodded in fear, looked to her right with a helpless expression, and briskly walked away.
Lord Montague cleared his throat. “I have secured my interests and said what I came to say.” He inclined his head to the Earl with a cold, measured look, before facing Camelia, his voice dropping to a silkier menace.
“Your father’s failings are not my concern.
Now, step aside, Lady Camelia, or I’ll—”
A familiar scent enveloped her as a broad shadow swept past, blocking her view of Lord Montague.
“You’ll do what?” the shadow snarled.
Camelia froze.
No!
“What… what are you doing here?” she hissed.
The Duke loomed before her, his commanding presence eclipsing Lord Montague and filling the room with quiet dominance. A soft gasp sounded behind her, and she turned just enough to see that Iris had stumbled upon the scene as well.
Oh God, no!
Panic seized her.
Across the room, her father and Margaret stood in stunned silence.
“What are you planning to do?” Camelia whispered. “You can’t just—”
“Trust me,” he interrupted firmly.
“Trust you?” she hissed, tugging at the back of his coat, her heart thudding frantically beneath her corset.
He’s meddling in our ruin.
“Your Grace? I could hardly recognize you!” Lord Montague said, his voice laced with unease. “What business do you have with this wretched family?”
The Duke stepped forward, his long strides deliberate and predatory, and stopped mere inches from him. Camelia could not look away. Raw fear flickered in Lord Montague’s eyes, a sight she had never thought to witness from a man who had terrorised them.
Her pulse quickened with curiosity at whatever silent exchange had just passed between the two men to strip the devil of his mask so completely. “I asked you a question, Lord Montague,” His Grace growled.
Lord Montague gave a thin, nervous laugh. “Might you repeat it, Your Grace?”
“You’ll do what to Lady Camelia?” The Duke’s presence seemed to overwhelm Lord Montague. “I am most curious. Do enlighten me,” he continued.
“Oh! That?” Lord Montague waved a trembling hand. “Nothing but a jest, I assure you.”
“A jest?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“It sounded more like a threat.”
Lord Montague’s eyes flicked desperately towards Camelia, then back to the Duke, his face paling. “It was not—”
The Duke closed the final inch between them, his shadow swallowing Lord Montague whole as his voice dropped to a dark and lethal warning.
“No one dares to threaten my Duchess… or her family.”