Chapter 13 #2
“She’d love him for loving you. And she’d tell you to hold your head high, to embrace this new chapter with all the courage she taught you. You’re her mirror, my dear. Beautiful, strong, and full of love.”
Camelia doubted that the Duke would ever grow to love her, but her father’s words comforted her.
Iris and Margaret watched them quietly, their own eyes tearing up.
“Papa’s right,” Margaret said softly. “Mother’s watching over you today.”
Camelia nodded, wiping her tears with a lace handkerchief. “I will miss you all… so dearly.” Her voice cracked.
Margaret was the first to break. She flung herself forward, her arms wrapping tightly around Camelia’s neck. “You promise to write every week, Camelia?”
“I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it. And if the Duke doesn’t treat you like a queen, I’ll ride to Brentmere myself and help you escape.”
Camelia laughed through her tears. “With what army, little sister? You can’t even reach the top shelf.”
Margaret shoved her playfully. “I’ll bring Iris. She’s a fighter, I know it, but I cannot prove it.”
Iris frowned at their little sister with teary eyes. “Hush, Margaret!” She turned to Camelia. “But truly, Camelia… if you’re ever lonely, send word, and we’ll come get you.”
Their father cleared his throat. “Now, now, dry those eyes, all of you. This is not a goodbye; this is a new beginning for our dear Camelia. The carriage awaits, and His Grace is probably pacing the church like a caged lion.”
Camelia’s laughter mingled with her soft sniffles like a bittersweet melody. “He does have a rather splendid way of brooding, doesn’t he?”
“That’s precisely what I’ve been saying!” Margaret exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation.
Iris rolled her eyes, a fond smile betraying her amusement. “Nothing escapes your notice when it comes to dashing gentlemen, Margaret.”
The sisters giggled, their shared mirth filling the room like a burst of sunlight.
Lord Lempster looked upon them with paternal pride, before extending his arm towards Camelia.
“Shall we, my dear?” he asked tenderly.
“We shall.” Camelia curtsied, her lips curling into a delicate smile. She slipped her arm through her father’s and ignored the rapid fluttering of her heart.
“It’s time for your wedding, my darling Camelia,” he said softly.
“Pamela.” Raph’s voice seemed too loud in the silence of the carriage. “Are you ready for the wedding?”
Pamela’s eyes flicked up, then dropped back to her hands. She nodded once, polite and restrained. “Yes, Father.”
He cleared his throat. “Are you… ready to meet your new mother?”
She nodded silently.
Raph ignored the sudden ache in his chest when he saw a hint of her mother in her. He leaned forward slightly. “Lady Camelia will guide you during your debut. She knows the ways of Society and how a lady of Brentmere should carry herself.”
One would hope.
“You’ll heed her,” he added, ignoring the doubts in his mind.
“I will do my best, Father,” Pamela said obediently, her fingers tightening in her lap.
Raph’s jaw clenched. He wanted to say more. To tell her that this marriage was for her, to give her a companion beyond the cold efficiency of governesses and maids, someone to draw her out of her shell and keep her from fading into the background. He hoped that Camelia would change that.
The endearing words he desired to speak refused to leave his lips, too soft for a man like him, a duke forged in control and restraint. He leaned back and let her silence settle heavily upon him.
“You’ll do well to listen to her,” he continued. “She’ll ready you for your debut. No mistakes, Pamela.”
“I understand,” she replied, her nod as meek as ever.
The carriage finally halted, and Raph peeked out the window at the church’s stone facade.
Today, Camelia will be mine.
The thought of owning her made his blood hum. He stepped out of the carriage and offered a steady hand to Pamela, who took it with a small curtsy.
“A carriage will await you and your maid after the ceremony, Pamela,” Raph instructed. “I need time to discuss the Duchess’s responsibilities with Camelia. We’ll join you at Brentmere Manor after.”
“Yes, Father,” Pamela replied softly, her eyes briefly meeting his before dropping in deference.
The churchyard buzzed with guests, their murmurs rising as he escorted Pamela inside. He left her in the pews and strode to the altar, where he took his place as groom.
The rector stood ready, prayer book in hand, and the organ’s soft notes filled the air as he waited for Camelia’s arrival.
Little flower.
Raph’s thoughts drifted to Camelia again and the passionate kiss they had shared. The feel of her body stayed with him ever since she had pressed herself against him in the alley, and her moans echoed in his memory like a siren’s call. Once she was his, he would devour her every curve and sigh.
His pulse quickened as he hungered for her.
At last, the church doors opened, and a hush fell over the congregation as Lord Lempster entered first with glistening eyes. He led Lady Iris and Lady Margaret to their seats.
Lady Iris dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief, while Lady Margaret clung to her arm, whispering something that made them both stifle sobs.
Raph’s brow furrowed. They were displaying unrestrained emotions, and he worried that Pamela was too timid for that.
She’ll shrink under their intensity. I would need to temper Camelia’s fire before she—
The thought flew out of his head when Camelia appeared.
The congregation stilled. Her ivory gown clung to her form. The silk caught the light like a second skin, accentuating the gentle swell of her hips and the elegant curve of her neck. Her dark hair was swept up, but a few tendrils escaped and teased her slender shoulders.
Her defiant, luminous eyes met his with a boldness that set his body aflame.
She’s a vision even with a scowl.
He stood straighter, his hands clasped behind him, fighting the urge to stride towards her and claim her right there.
Mine.
Lord Lempster escorted her down the aisle until they reached the altar, then placed her delicate hand in Raph’s. “Guard her with all your heart, Your Grace.”
His words felt like a plea.
“You have my word that she will always be guarded,” Raph responded with a possessive edge.
Lord Lempster smiled politely and left for the pews.
The congregation hushed as Raph and Camelia turned around, and the rector started the ceremony. His words were a solemn cadence, but Raph’s focus was on Camelia. Her breathing quickened under his gaze, and he noticed the faint flush on her powdered cheeks.
Raph braced for the moment she would bolt. He half-expected her to denounce the farce outright. But even in her defiance, she did her duty to her family. And he respected that.
Eventually, he steered his thoughts from the kiss they had shared. Lust, like everything else, would bow to duty.
For now.
“Do you, Raph Hartton, the Duke of Brentmere, take Lady Camelia Wilmore to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” Raph said, his voice resonant, his gaze never leaving hers.
“And do you, Lady Camelia Wilmore, take His Grace, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” she said clearly, though a tremor betrayed her nerves.
They exchanged the rings, and Raph felt the slight tremor in her hand.
The rector smiled at them both. “You may now seal your union with a kiss.”
Raph stepped closer to Camelia and heard her breath catch. His hand cupped her face, and his thumb brushed her jaw. Holding her in place, he leaned in until their lips met.
Camelia let out a soft sigh. Her mouth was warm and yielding, and Raph bit back the hungry growl that rumbled in his chest. Their last kiss plagued his mind, and he desired more of her.
Not here, not now.
His hands fell to his sides as he reluctantly pulled back, aware of the watching eyes.
The congregation erupted in polite applause, but Raph’s attention lingered on Camelia. Her lips were wet and parted, her eyes wide with a mix of awe, desire, and… fear?
As they turned to face the guests, Pamela caught his eye from the front pew. Her expression was unreadable, and her shoulders were tense.
I need to concentrate on my duty… for Pamela’s sake.
Raph and Camelia began to walk up the aisle as the guests applauded and congratulated them politely.
Their steps were hushed on the stone path as he led her to the waiting carriage, its sleek black-lacquered exterior gleaming under the midday sun. He tried not to be distracted by her soft curves, but her presence stirred a primal heat within him.
“What happens now, Your Grace?” Camelia’s soft voice cut through his thoughts and the murmurs of the guests.
Raph glanced at her, noticing how her eyes glistened with unshed tears and her lashes fluttered as she fought to compose herself. His chest tightened, but words of comfort eluded him as they did with Pamela, his nature too guarded to offer solace.
“You are a duchess now, Camelia.” She looked up at the mention of her name. “You have new duties, and I expect you will fulfill them as best as you can.”
“And my duties as your wife?” she retorted with a glare.
Raph bit the inside of his cheek.
“Oh, I’m certain you know them, Duchess,” he drawled, smiling at the lords and ladies who congratulated them.
“Then perhaps you’d care to remind me, since my memory seems tragically faulty,” she responded sharply.
He stepped closer to her until the heat of her body enveloped his thoughts.
“I will gladly remind you,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. “And I promise, little flower, by the time I’m finished reminding you, that wicked tongue of yours will be far too busy begging for mercy to form another insolent syllable. It will be my pleasure to tame you.”
He watched as she swallowed hard and her lips parted. But before she could muster a retort, Lord Lempster approached them.
The Earl’s weathered face softened as he pulled his daughter in a warm embrace.
“My dearest girl,” he said with pride, “you truly make a radiant bride.”
Camelia clung to him, her voice a tremulous whisper. “Oh, Papa!”
“I am so proud of you, Camelia.” He turned to Raph, his eyes bright with emotion. “Your Grace, you’ve chosen a treasure. Guard her well.”
Raph inclined his head. “She’s mine to protect now, Lord Lempster.”
Camelia’s sisters appeared beside him and curtsied.
“Camelia,” Lady Iris said, her steady voice cracking with emotion. “It was a beautiful ceremony, dearest, and you shall be the most wonderful Duchess.”
Lady Margaret managed a grin despite her sniffles. “You’re a duchess now, Camelia! Was it as terrifying as you thought, or are you completely swept away by His Grace’s charm?”
Camelia laughed, and the sound sent a shiver through Raph. She hugged her sisters tightly.
“I’ll miss you both. And no, Margaret, it wasn’t so terrifying… not with all of you here.”
“I assure you all that your sister is in capable hands.” Raph had no patience to witness their affection.
Lady Iris fixed him with a discerning look. “We trust you will, Your Grace.”
“Lady Pamela! How lovely to finally meet you,” Camelia suddenly burst out and curtsied.
Raph watched with interest as the two politely greeted each other.
“Your Grace,” Pamela responded quietly and dipped her head.
“Lady Pamela, you are so beautiful!” Lady Margaret complimented, and her sisters nodded in agreement.
Pamela blushed profusely, and Raph froze. He had never once seen such unguarded color on her face, not in all her fifteen years of careful composure in his presence.
“Thank you, Lady Maragaret. You are very kind.”
“It is a blessing to have a daughter, Your Grace,” Lord Lempster remarked, giving him a broad smile.
“It is, Lord Lempster,” Raph said simply. “Lord Lempster, ladies, if you will excuse us. My Duchess and I have a carriage waiting and a ton of guests to see to back at the manor.”
Lord Lempster chuckled. “Of course, Your Grace.” He turned to Camelia and patted her hand. “Go, my dear. Your new life awaits. We will see you at the breakfast.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Camelia’s voice caught as she hugged her father once more. She turned to her sisters, pulling them close. “I love you both. Don’t let Margaret get into too much trouble today, Iris.”
“I’ll try,” Iris said with a fond smile, squeezing her hand.
The sisters smiled at Pamela, who watched their exchange silently.
Her family’s warmth is a whirlwind we both do not understand.
“Pamela, you shall be escorted to your carriage. I will see you at the wedding breakfast,” Raph addressed the young girl flatly.
Pamela curtsied but remained silent as Andrew guided her and her maid to their carriage.
Raph’s gaze drifted back to his new wife and her emotional family as she gracefully waved goodbye to them. The brief encounter with them left him unsettled.
Camelia turned and caught his eye while he offered a hand to her. “We are on a schedule, Camelia. There’s no time for pleasantries. Brentmere awaits its new Duchess.”
Without sparing his outstretched hand a glance, she planted a heel-clad foot on the step and swept into the carriage with the regal disdain of a queen dismissing a footman.
Raph raised an eyebrow at her.
“Let’s go, Your Grace,” she hissed coldly as she settled into the far side of the carriage. “I’d hate to keep your precious schedule waiting.”