Chapter 14
Camelia refused to look at him. She knew she was in trouble; she felt the familiar ache in the pit of her stomach.
It wasn’t fear, but a delicious pain that drew her to him, and she struggled to understand it.
His promises of taming her after kissing her so deeply made her question everything with maddening curiosity. The wedding was a blur to her, and so was the memory of their passionate kiss.
She questioned the reality of it and briefly wondered if she had just dreamt it all up. But the taste of him stayed on the tip of her tongue like sweet evidence of their desire for each other.
“Camelia.”
The sound of her name on his tongue made her shiver.
Camelia shifted her gaze towards him. His striking features always made her breath catch and her pulse quicken. She could hardly believe that she was married to him.
“Yes?” she asked stiffly.
“Your duties as the Duchess of Brentmere will be discussed in detail tomorrow morning. But I expect you to consider it all secondary to Pamela.”
Her heart softened as she considered his words.
“Even your wifely duties come second to Pamela,” he added.
“I understand, but—”
“I will hear no argument.” His cold gaze made her bite her tongue.
What of the heir he so desires?
She wanted to remind him of that, but she kept her mouth shut. She had no idea what awaited her in his bed, in his life, only that he made her skin tingle, her stomach flutter, and her thighs clench with a need she refused to name.
When he had kissed her, rough and claiming, her body had threatened to shatter in his arms like crystal struck by a hammer. She had hated him for it, and yet she had savored every treacherous second.
“We’re here,” the Duke said gruffly when the carriage halted.
Camelia accepted his hand this time and stepped out of the carriage, her ivory gown whispering in the wind while she took in the sprawling grandeur of Brentmere Manor.
She fought the urge to question the Duke.
The ride was short and intense with a silence that felt like a burning flame between them.
Camelia let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she took in the looming estate before her.
Its stone facade was bathed in the golden afternoon light and flanked by meticulously manicured gardens.
Vibrant roses burst through the neatly trimmed hedges, and the air carried their sweet scent.
She couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer elegance of it all.
“It’s… magnificent, like something from a dream.”
My new home.
The Duke offered his arm without looking at her. “You will see the entire estate tomorrow,” he said briskly.
Camelia looped her arm through his, her heart fluttering at the contact. “It’s breathtaking, Your Grace. The gardens… they’re like a painting come to life. I’ve never seen such beauty.”
She felt his dark blue eyes on her, but feared to search their depths.
“There’s something I need to address before the wedding breakfast.” He paused, his jaw tightening as they walked towards the front door.
“Your family’s display at the church was…
improper, to say the least. Tears and embraces in public or any such emotional excess have no place in Brentmere Manor and among the ton. ”
Camelia’s brow furrowed. “Improper? Your Grace, that’s what happens when people have hearts and truly care for one another. My father and sisters love me. They shed tears of joy and sorrow. Would you rather have them stand stone-faced like statues?”
He stopped suddenly, and she stumbled. She turned to face him and was taken aback by how his frame towered over her.
“Love is fine in private, Camelia. But in public, restraint is key. You’re a duchess now, and your actions reflect on me,” he said coldly.
How dare he?
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with equal coldness. “And what of your protection? You speak of restraint, yet you shielded me from ruin. Is that not a form of care? And is this marriage not public proof of it?”
The Duke’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Do you think it is, Duchess?”
Camelia pretended as if his words had not stung her.
“I do not believe you care for anyone except Pamela,” she shot back.
“And you are right.”
“Of course, I am.”
“But your decisions were wrong, and that is why you are here now. Married to me. Trembling before me and pretending I wouldn’t notice. I did not protect you; this marriage is simply convenient to me as it is convenient to you.”
“How is it convenient to me?” she sneered.
“There’s nothing to worry about anymore.
No debt to repay, no whispers about you as a spinster, and no Lord Montague coming after your sisters.
You have a duke’s protection, and you have freedom.
It could have turned out differently for you if you had run into the wrong gentleman that night, Camelia.
” The Duke’s voice dripped with warning.
Camelia’s cheeks warmed, but she would not be cowed. “You may have rescued me from ruin, Your Grace, but a woman needs more from her husband than mere safeguarding. Affection, partnership and… things of the heart!”
The Duke frowned, a dark glint in his eyes. “Affection? Partnership? You’re being rather suggestive, Duchess, when we’ve only left the altar minutes ago. Are you that eager for more already?”
She felt her face flush and her pulse quicken at his insinuation. “You’re twisting my words! You’re the only one who has me feeling so… worked up… with your brooding stares and commanding tone. It’s maddening!”
The Duke stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “During your training, you’ll learn to restrain those thoughts and wild instincts in our bedroom. Outside of it, you’ll behave with the propriety befitting a duchess.”
Camelia’s breath hitched, her eyes widening at the word ‘training.’ Indignation and an unwelcome thrill surged through her.
“Training? Like I’m some unruly pup? You’re the one crossing the lines of propriety right now, speaking of bedrooms and restraints mere steps from our wedding guests!”
His eyes darkened. “Propriety can no longer stand in our way now; you are my wife.”
Camelia backed away from him, from his allure. “I will decide when… that would take place.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“And what is that, exactly?” he asked with a sly smirk.
“You know exactly what I am talking about!”
“Enlighten me.”
“Whatever happened in your carriage the other night!” she hissed.
The Duke chuckled darkly, before stalking towards her, closing the distance between them. “I make the rules, Camelia. But I will respect your decision. You may as well deny it now, but I’ll have you begging for more, just as you did after a mere kiss.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but then paused. He looked dangerous, his eyes cold and his lips warm and inviting. She had to clear her head, so she decided to ask him a question that had been niggling at her for a while.
“If you feel entitled to my body, now that we’re married, then I am entitled to some answers.”
“Answers to what questions?”
“I’d like to know what the connection is between you and Lord Montague. You two seem entangled in something from the past.”
The Duke’s expression hardened instantly. “Our connection goes way back, and it’s not a pleasant one. I won’t discuss it further. Not today.”
Camelia sighed, sensing the wall he had erected. “Very well, but secrets have a way of surfacing, Your Grace.”
“There is nothing more that you need to know.” He offered his arm again, his tone final. “Come. The wedding breakfast awaits.”
Camelia sighed in resignation as she took his arm, and they resumed walking in an uncomfortable silence. They entered the grand hall, where guests mingled amid tables laden with silver and crystal.
But it was the adjoining gardens that stole her breath, decorated with cascading floral arches, unlit lanterns, and tables set with fine china under a canopy of blooming wisteria.
The air hummed with laughter and the clink of glasses. The aroma of fresh pastries and roasted meats wafted through the air, instantly making her hungry.
“Oh, the gardens are even more enchanting up close,” Camelia breathed. “Look at those arches. It’s like a fairytale.”
The Duke glanced around and nodded curtly. “The garden’s maintenance will be your responsibility; you will command the staff from now on.”
“I believe I would enjoy that.”
“Sit, Duchess. We’ll greet the guests soon.”
“Thank you, Your Grace, for reminding me to fulfil even the simplest task, such as sitting.”
She heard the sharp intake of his breath as she sat smugly and elegantly on the high-back chair at the head table.
She eyed the array of fruits and delicious dishes before her hungrily. At the far end, she caught Margaret waving for her attention as if they hadn’t seen each other for ages.
Camelia waved back and peeked at each guest, trying to remember their names and titles, until she found Lady Pamela, seated quietly nearby.
The girl really was beautiful. Her dark curls framed her pale and delicate features. Her doe-like eyes spoke of her innocence. But as much as Camelia tried, she failed to find a hint of resemblance between her and the Duke.
“She’s so quiet, like a bird afraid to sing.” She caught Lady Pamela’s eye and offered her a warm smile.
The young girl hesitated at first, but eventually smiled bashfully.
“Pamela rarely speaks,” the Duke said so quietly she almost missed it over the chatter of the guests.
She turned to him. “She seems sweet, but so reserved. Perhaps she’s overwhelmed by all of this?”
“It will be your job to find out what upsets her and fix it. The three of us will dine together tonight. You can speak with her then,” the Duke replied flatly.
“Am I not permitted to ask you questions?”
His continuous lack of explanations began to annoy her.
“You may.”
“Well, that seems untrue.”
“True or not, you are here to prepare her for her debut, not pester her or me with unhelpful questions.”