Chapter 9
“Your debut is approaching, Pamela.” Raph stood in the drawing room of Brentmere Manor as he addressed the young girl sitting at the window. “It’s time you were properly prepared to enter Society.”
She’s growing up too fast.
Pamela, nearly sixteen, kept her eyes on the embroidery in her lap, her fingers pausing mid-stitch.
“Yes, Father,” she murmured deferentially. “I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing on her. “You’re to be presented as a lady now. You’ll need guidance, someone to coach you, to ensure you don’t falter. It took me a while, but I’ve found a woman for the task.”
Her head rose slightly, curiosity flickering in her sad eyes. “A woman?”
“The future Duchess of Brentmere,” Raph clarified, his tone brooking no argument. “She will take you under her wing, teach you the graces required for your station. She’ll oversee your debut.”
Pamela’s lips parted, but she quickly pressed them shut, nodding. “If it pleases you, Father. I… I will do my best.”
“It’s not about pleasing me,” he said, folding his arms. “Your future depends on your debut. You will take the necessary lessons, and follow a strict schedule that will prepare you to live outside the confines of Brentmere. The Duchess will know what’s to be expected of you, and she will see to it. ”
Pamela’s fingers tightened on her embroidery, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be a burden to you. I’ll learn quickly, I promise, and then…”
Raph’s jaw tightened.
I’m terrible at this.
“You’re not a burden, Pamela. You’re my only child, and it’s my responsibility to prepare you for your future. Understood?”
“Yes, Father,” she replied, her eyes dropping back to her lap, her shoulders curling inward.
He studied her for a moment, then turned towards the door. “Start preparing. The new Duchess will arrive after we are wed.”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode out, his boots echoing on the polished floor.
Pamela was too quiet and too eager to fade away, but Camelia was fierce with her sisters, protective, and always guiding them with a steady hand.
She even tried to sell her virtue to save her sister from Lord Montague’s grasp.
She’ll mold Pamela into a proper lady and…
keep her from feeling too lonely in the process.
It’s time to claim my Duchess.
The next day, Raph strode up the steps of Lempster Estate, his boots crunching on the stone. He ignored the surprised footman who scrambled to open the door.
They weren’t expecting me so soon, but propriety be damned. I have terms to set, and Camelia needs to understand her place in this arrangement.
Pamela’s presentation to Society was quickly approaching and with no maternal figure in her life, apart from Mrs. Weber, Raph took it upon himself to equip her. He refused to allow his own chaos to disrupt his plans for her. Preparing her for a safe and promising future was a priority.
The door swung open, and he entered without invitation, his presence filling the foyer like a storm cloud.
Lord Lempster was absent, but Lady Camelia and her two sisters were gathered in the drawing room, their conversation suspiciously halting when they spotted him.
Lady Camelia’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and wariness. Lady Iris looked prim and proper as always, while Lady Margaret, the youngest, arched an eyebrow with that unfiltered curiosity of hers.
What trouble have I gotten myself into? Now there are even more women to deal with.
“Your Grace,” Lady Camelia greeted, rising quickly and bobbing a quick curtsy. “We weren’t expecting you so early. Is… everything all right?”
“I require a private audience with my future bride,” Raph demanded, his gaze fixed on her.
Her skin glowed a delicate pink from the morning’s exertions, and he battled the urge to leave bite marks on her flesh, branding her as his for days to come.
There are more pressing matters to see to, man.
Lady Margaret leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Private? Well, go on then, Camelia. We won’t tell Father!”
She let out a giggle, which was swiftly silenced by Lady Iris’s piercing glare.
Raph ignored her, his eyes never leaving Lady Camelia’s.
Lady Iris fidgeted, her hands twisting in her lap nervously. “But Your Grace, a private audience? Without a chaperone? That would be most improper.”
“I believe we are past propriety, Lady Iris,” Raph replied coolly. “Your sister and I have matters to discuss that concern our future. Alone.”
Lady Camelia hesitated, and he noticed the flush on her cheeks.
“Your Grace, perhaps we can speak in the library. It’s quiet there and not so private.”
She looked at Lady Iris, who nodded in agreement.
Raph noticed the small exchange and couldn’t help but admire their sisterly bond.
“Lead the way, Lady Camelia.” He waved his hand.
His focus was on Lady Camelia’s graceful strides ahead of him, the seductive sway of her hips, and he remembered the feel of them in his hands.
Focus.
They entered the library, and the scent of aged leather and paper enveloped them. Raph closed the door behind him with a decisive click, and the sound echoed like a seal on their fate.
Lady Camelia turned swiftly to face him with an unreadable expression, nibbling on her bottom lip. Her beauty spot tempted him to take her lips in a searing kiss.
“Your Grace, before we begin, I must offer my thanks… delayed as they are. You saved my family yesterday, and I—”
“Your thanks are noted, but my help will not be without cost,” Raph interrupted, his eyes locked on hers as he closed the gap between them.
She thinks this is charity? No, everything has a price.
Lady Camelia’s brow furrowed. “Cost? What do you mean? You’ve already agreed to pay our debts if I married you—”
“And fulfilled your duty as my wife and Duchess. Yes, I have agreed to my side of the deal,” he spoke slowly. “But before you agree to yours, tell me, Lady Camelia—what do you know about me?”
She blinked. The question caught her off guard.
“About you? Well, you’re the Duke of Brentmere. Wealthy, influential. And… and you have a child with your…”
“Lover,” Raph finished for her.
She’s honest. At least she doesn’t shy away from the scandal.
“Yes… your lover,” Lady Camelia said.
Raph did not miss the hint of annoyance in her tone.
“Would that be a problem for you?” he asked curiously.
“Why would it be a problem, Your Grace?”
“Women tend to get… jealous.”
She laughed, and the sound took him off guard. “I assure you, I am not the jealous type.” She sat in an armchair before continuing. “Her name is Pamela, isn’t it? The ton whispers about her.”
“Yes, and Pamela bears my name,” Raph said resolutely. “Her mother is… not around anymore, and I’m the only one she has. I plan to present her to Society, but she needs to be trained into a proper young lady. That will be your responsibility as my Duchess.”
Lady Camelia stared at him with wide amber eyes.
“You seem surprised by this.”
“My responsibility is to train your… your child? Why me? I’m not a governess!”
“You’re my wife-to-be,” he pointed out, his gaze unwavering. “In my household, there is order and rules. Things are done in a specific and proper manner. If not, there are consequences. You will make sure the household runs smoothly.”
“Consequences?” she scoffed, her chin lifting as it had the day before.
What an infuriating, stubborn woman.
“What sort of consequences? And what about your habits, Your Grace? Visiting courtesans and impregnating them. Is that one of your ‘proper’ ways?”
Raph’s eyes darkened with irritation and a sudden urge to walk over to her and kiss her deeply so that she would remain silent.
“You dare to bring that up? After your own recklessness?”
She was taken aback by his backhandedness.
“Pamela needs stability, not rebellion. The kind of stability I see between you and your sisters.”
Her expression softened.
“But defiance will not be tolerated in my household, Lady Camelia. I won’t allow you to be a bad influence on Pamela.”
All traces of softness vanished as she rose from her seat and marched towards him.
“A bad influence? May I remind you that buying my body would have been a quicker solution than this farce of a marriage? Why complicate things with vows when you could have had what you wanted in that alley?”
He chuckled, the sound deep and dark. “Oh, little flower, you have no idea.”
Raph moved swiftly, cornering her against the bookshelf, his body close enough to feel the heat radiating from her.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I promise you that there would be nothing ‘quick’ with your body beneath mine, Camelia.”
She trembled against him, her eyes widening as he hovered above her with a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Look at how you tremble before me, little flower. And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Their lips were inches apart, and the air between them thickened as Camelia let out a whimper. Raph growled in response. He tilted his head, his lips so close to hers that he could feel the warmth of her breath and the promise of a kiss.
Her lashes fluttered, and it made his chest tighten. For a moment, neither moved, as their fiery attraction bound them.
She’s affected by me, despite her bravado. Good girl.
Raph brushed her arm lightly, sending another shiver through her. He smiled at the effect he had on her.
“What are you—”
“This brings me to my next request,” he spoke over her, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I still need an heir, so do not expect this arrangement to be a marriage on paper.”
Camelia’s eyes flashed with realization. “An heir?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s part of the deal.”
“And if I refuse? What then? There will be more ‘consequences’?”
Raph chuckled darkly, his hand capturing hers. Despite her anger, she blushed at the contact.
“Refuse? You won’t refuse because your family depends on it. But challenge me again, and you’ll learn what those consequences are.”
“What do you mean?” Camelia protested. “You can’t just dictate my life like this!”
“Pamela will look to you as an example. And there will be no more reckless nights in alleys.”
She scoffed, though her breathing was heavy. “I’m not one of your servants, Your Grace. And what of you? Should I be expecting more children under my care from your lovers?”
“Once we are wed, you will mine and I will be yours only.”
Camelia’s cheeks reddened.
“My past is mine to handle,” Raph added slowly. “Yours is now tied to it. And Pamela needs a mother figure.”
“Why me, of all women? There are plenty who would jump at the chance to be your Duchess, without the baggage of debt.”
“Because you intrigue me,” he admitted, and watched as her expression softened. “That fire in you—it’s dangerous, but it could be channeled. For Pamela’s sake, and for the heir we’ll make.”
“Heir,” she repeated, her voice a small whisper. “You speak of it so casually, as if I’m just a means to an end.”
“Not just,” he said, releasing her hand, though he remained close. “But yes, it’s necessary. The duchy needs it.”
“And what do I get?” Lady Camelia asked. “A life of rules and consequences? With no freedom?”
“Security,” he replied. “Power. The title of Duchess. And perhaps more, if you behave.”
Her teary eyes locked onto his, and Raph regretted his coldness towards her.
She stepped back. “You’re insufferable,” she whispered, though her eyes lingered on his mouth a moment too long. “Are you like this with every woman you corner in a library?”
“Only the ones who challenge me,” he murmured, his gaze darkening as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her shoulder. His fingers lingered just a heartbeat longer than necessary. “And you, my future wife, are proving to be quite the challenge.”