Chapter 13
“Oh, Camelia, you look divine!” Margaret exclaimed, stepping back to admire the intricate hairstyle she crafted, her hands clasped dramatically under her chin. “The Duke won’t be able to keep his hands off you tonight!”
“Margaret!” Camelia gasped, her cheeks flaming as she shot her younger sister a disapproving look.
Margaret giggled. “You act as though you won’t enjoy it, Sister.”
“Heavens, why must you say such things?” Camelia admonished.
But the mere thought of the Duke’s touch sent a molten heat through her veins, setting her skin ablaze with a forbidden desire.
Their stolen kiss, a clandestine vow whispered in the shadows, had pulsed with the promise of future nights where his hands would finally claim her and his lips would unravel her darkest secrets.
Dear God, how can one kiss bind me to him so completely?
Iris sighed beside her as her nimble fingers adjusted her beaded dress. The soft sound drew Camelia’s thoughts away from the Duke.
“Margaret, behave. This is Camelia’s wedding day, not one of those silly novels you can jest about brazenly.”
“Oh, but are you not as curious as I am, Iris?” Margaret asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “His Grace is so tall and brooding, like a hero from those forbidden tales. Camelia, you must tell us what it is like to be his Duchess.”
Camelia’s face burned hotter, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Oh, dear God, I am to be a duchess!”
Camelia’s thoughts spiraled in a heady whirl of anticipation and fear as reality dawned on her.
“Can I truly be the duchess he needs and the mother his daughter deserves?”
“Come, dear sister. Sit,” Iris coaxed as she gently guided Camelia to a plush armchair. Its velvet cushion sank beneath her trembling frame. “You’ll be perfectly fine.”
Margaret hurried to her side, her usual playful spark dimmed by concern.
“How can you be so sure, Iris?” Camelia’s voice trembled slightly.
Iris took her hand, her grip firm yet tender. “Camelia, although I’m the eldest, you’ve always been the one to care for us, far more than I ever did.”
The small gesture of affection sent warmth through Camelia, loosening the knot in her chest.
“And we’ve all seen how His Grace looks at you,” Margaret added, a sly smile creeping back onto her lips.
Camelia’s curiosity betrayed her. “How does he look at me?”
Margaret leaned closer with a wicked smirk. “Like you’re a succulent morsel of venison and he’s ravenous to devour every inch of you.”
Iris and Camelia exchanged a look, their eyes widening at Margaret’s choice of words, before they all erupted in laughter, the sound filling the room like a cascade of bells.
“Margaret, truly!” Camelia gasped, clutching her sides as she struggled to catch her breath. “Where do you learn such scandalous phrases?”
A sultry ache bloomed within her when she remembered how the Duke’s piercing dark blue eyes devoured her form with languid intensity, tracing the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, as if his gaze alone could peel away her gown and leave her bare, quivering under his command.
“Margaret, you’re making her blush so much she’ll match the roses in her bouquet. Camelia, ignore her and focus on the day ahead.” Iris rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Camelia laughed despite herself. “Margaret’s jokes are outrageous, but they do lighten the mood.”
Still, the idea of intimacy with the Duke terrified and excited her in equal measure.
“Thank you! But seriously, Camelia,” Margaret continued, undeterred, as she clasped a pearl necklace around her sister’s neck.
“The Duke’s reputation precedes him. He is handsome, powerful, and as we have already witnessed…
he is a bit dangerous. Do you think he’ll whisper sweet nothings or command you like one of his servants? ”
“Command me? No. He would much rather discipline me,” Camelia muttered under her breath.
“What do you mean by that?” Margaret’s eyes were wide with curiosity.
Camelia silently cursed herself for speaking her thoughts out loud.
But the thought of the Duke disciplining her sent a rush of fear and excitement through her. Her spine tingled, and she gulped loudly before answering Margaret.
“What did I mean by what, Margaret?”
“The Duke disciplining you.”
Iris leaned in, her eyebrow arched, the same curious look etched into her features.
“I honestly have no idea,” Camelia eventually said and swatted at her sister’s hand playfully.
“Did he speak of disciplining you?” Iris asked with no hint of humor, crossing her arms over her chest disapprovingly.
“He did,” Camelia said softly.
Her sisters exchanged looks.
“What do you suppose that means?” Iris frowned.
“Is it a threat? Because if he dared to threaten you—” Margaret began.
“I promise you both that, whether the Duke threatened me or not, he will never break me,” Camelia cut in. “And we need this union.”
Her sisters eyed her with suspicion and sadness.
“Camelia, you do not have to do this for my sake—”
“Margaret, I will always protect you and our family, even if it means marrying a sullen-faced duke.”
Her sisters remained silent for a minute before nodding in agreement and continuing to faff over her.
“I can tell you one truth, Camelia. Once this sullen-faced duke lays eyes on you, all thoughts of discipline will leave his mind!”
The sisters giggled, and Camelia felt the tension between them ease.
“You’re going to ruin my composure, Margaret. What if I giggle during the vows?”
“That would be charming,” Iris interjected calmly. “His Grace could use a bit of light in his life. Speaking of which, have you thought much about his daughter, Lady Pamela?”
“Lady Pamela?” Margaret’s eyes sparkled with delight, and she clapped her hands together in a burst of enthusiasm. “Won’t she debut soon? Oh, I’ve heard such intriguing whispers about her!”
Camelia’s smile faltered, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her gown. “Lady Pamela… yes, I’ve thought of little else these past days.”
“Was she truly born from—”
“She’s his daughter,” Camelia said promptly. “She was born out of wedlock, or so they say. But she is a duke’s daughter.”
“How is she? Have you met her?” Iris cocked her head, curiosity etched in her expression.
“No, I haven’t met her yet. But she’s… quiet, from what I’ve heard. How am I to be a mother to her, Iris, when I’ve never even met her?”
Iris paused, her hands light and gentle on Camelia’s shoulders, while Margaret pursed her lips.
“You’ll be wonderful, Camelia. You’ve always been the nurturing one amongst us. Remember how you cared for us after Mother passed? We were barely older than Pamela is now.”
“But that’s different,” Camelia protested.
“You two are my sisters, and Pamela is… is a stranger. And she’s a girl on the cusp of womanhood.
What if I fail her? What if she resents me for stepping into her life?
And His Grace expects me to guide her debut.
I don’t know if I’m ready for that responsibility.
Oh, heavens, what if I disappoint them all?
The Duke, Pamela, and even my own family. ”
Margaret reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Nonsense, Camelia. You’re the kindest soul I know. Lady Pamela will adore you. Think of it; you’ll teach her dances, help her choose gowns, and whisper secrets about handsome suitors. It’ll be like having a new little sister.”
Iris nodded firmly. “Exactly. And you’re not alone in this. We’ll visit often, and His Grace will surely support you. He’s marrying you for a reason, Camelia. He sees your strength, even if you doubt it.”
“But what if I’m not enough?” Camelia whispered, her eyes misting. “She’s grown up without a mother, and I’ll be expected to fill that void. What if she sees through me and knows I’m just pretending?”
“You are not one to pretend,” Iris said sternly, cupping Camelia’s face in her hands. “You’re genuine, loving, and wise beyond your years. Lady Pamela needs someone like you, someone who cares deeply. You’ll make mistakes, but we all do, Camelia. We just have to learn from yours.”
Margaret grinned, wiping a tear from Camelia’s cheek. “And if all else fails, you can always bribe her with tales of our mischief to win her over.”
Camelia burst into laughter, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Oh, what would I do without you two? I feel a bit better now, truly. But… the worry lingers. I don’t want to fail them… or you two and Father.”
“You won’t fail,” Iris assured her.
“Lord Lempster’s daughters never falter!” Margaret declared with a spirited salute, her voice brimming with pride.
The sisters dissolved into laughter, enveloping each other in a warm, fierce embrace, their joy a tangible bond.
Iris eventually drew back, her discerning gaze sweeping over Camelia to ensure every detail of her appearance was flawless.
“Now, let’s make sure this veil sits perfectly.” Camelia stood as Iris adjusted her veil. “There—you look like a vision!”
The door creaked open, and their father entered, but his steps faltered when he caught sight of Camelia. His gentle eyes, which usually twinkled with humor, welled with tears as he approached her and reached out to touch her veil lightly.
“Camelia, my dear,” he croaked. “You… you look just like your mother on our wedding day. The same grace, the same fire in your eyes.”
Camelia’s breath caught, her tears spilling over. “Papa… oh, please don’t cry, or I’ll never stop.”
He pulled her into a gentle embrace, careful not to wrinkle her gown. “How can I not? My little girl is all grown up and about to become a duchess. Your mother would be so proud, Camelia. She always said you had her spirit—the kind that could tame any storm!”
But can I tame the storm within me whenever I’m around the Duke?
“I miss her so much,” Camelia whispered, clinging to him. “Do you think she’d approve of His Grace? Of all this?”
Lord Lempster pulled back. His calloused hands were rough on her delicate shoulders, but she enjoyed the warmth of his touch.