Chapter 14 #2
“I’d like to know her better, as her new… guardian. How am I supposed to do that if you tell me nothing about her?”
The Duke glowered at her. “Your duty will be to teach her the ways of a lady and not play with her mind or emotions. She needs guidance, not coddling.”
Camelia arched an eyebrow. “Guidance? Like your ‘training’ for me?”
“Precisely. She’s to debut in a few years. You’re here to help shape her.”
“Pardon the interruption, Your Graces,” drawled a tall, golden-haired man.
He executed an absurdly theatrical bow, sweeping one hand as if presenting Camelia to an invisible audience.
“David Vernon, the Marquess of Barrow and Raph’s dearest friend.
At your service, Your Grace. Though I must protest—Raph has been hoarding England’s most dazzling treasure and never breathed a word. ”
Camelia blinked, then laughed despite herself. “Lord Barrow, I presume the hoarding was mutual, since I’ve never heard of you either.”
David clutched his chest dramatically, as though mortally wounded. “A dagger to the heart on her wedding day! Cruel, beautiful creature. Raph, you fiend, how dare you keep her hidden? I’d have kidnapped her months ago and saved us all this tedious ceremony.”
Raph’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Off with you, David. Now.”
But the Marquess stayed.
Camelia could never have imagined that the Duke had friends with such humor.
“Tell me the truth, Your Grace. Did he bribe you? Blackmail you? Hypnotize you with those brooding stares? Blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”
Camelia laughed as the Duke fixed his friend with an icy glare.
“Relax, Raph. I’m merely performing my sacred duty as your best friend: testing whether your bride has a sense of humor. She has passed the test with flying colors.” The Marquess winked at Camelia. “He’s secretly terrified you’ll discover he’s mortal.”
Camelia arched an eyebrow. “I suspected as much.”
The Marquess threw his head back and laughed. “I like her, Raph. You don’t deserve her.”
“Undoubtedly,” the Duke growled, sliding a possessive arm around Camelia’s waist and tugging her firmly against his side. “Now, sod off, before I have you thrown into the fountain.”
The Marquess held up both hands in mock surrender, walking backward with a grin. “Message received, Your Grace. I’ll retreat… for now.” He spun on his heel, calling over his shoulder, “Congratulations, you beautiful, doomed pair!”
The Duke muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll murder him in his sleep,” while Camelia bit her lip to stifle a laugh.
Another guest rose and toasted their union. “To the Duke and Duchess of Brentmere! May your days be filled with prosperity and joy.”
The Duke raised his glass. “Thank you, Lord Harrington. We appreciate your well-wishes.”
Camelia forced a bright smile, but her mind was still on Lady Pamela and the Duke’s secrecy. As the breakfast progressed, she stole glances at Lady Pamela, who picked at her food quietly.
Has she received any warmth in this grand, cold manor?
As the footmen brought out delicate pastries, Camelia turned to the Duke. “Tell me more about Brentmere Manor. How long has it been in your family?”
He sipped his wine, and she tried not to get distracted by his red-tinged lips. “Generations. My great-grandfather expanded the gardens. They’re a point of pride.”
“They should be,” she said, admiring the view. “I could spend hours exploring them.”
“You will,” he replied, his unreadable gaze lingering on her.
Camelia nodded, then lowered her voice lest they draw attention from the nearby guests. “And Lady Pamela? Does she enjoy the gardens?”
The Duke glanced at the girl. “She reads there often. Alone.”
“Not for long,” Camelia murmured.
He studied her, and her body reacted immediately. “She needs… company.”
Camelia’s heart fluttered. “As do we all. Even dukes.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Solitude has served me well enough.”
“And yet here we are,” she replied coolly, meeting his stare, “two solitary creatures sharing the same cage.”
He gave a short, humorless huff. “Don’t mistake necessity for companionship.”
“Don’t mistake silence for peace, Your Grace,” she shot back. “Some animals rattle louder when they’re locked in cages.”
“That is why animals in cages get tamed by their masters,” the Duke murmured, lifting his wine glass in a mock toast while keeping his eyes on hers, like a challenge.
She didn’t flinch. “True,” she said icily. “Though history shows that the clever beasts eventually learn to escape their sleeping masters.”
“Careful, Duchess,” he warned, his voice a silken whip, “you’re testing me again. Keep it up, and I’ll have to bind that bold tongue of yours.”
Camelia’s breath caught as his words sent a forbidden thrill to her belly.
“Perhaps you need a challenge, Your Grace,” she whispered.
A predatory glint flashed in his gaze as he leaned in, and the warmth of his breath against her ear made her shiver. “Under my care, Camelia, your defiance will melt into submission.”
He pulled back, and she almost whimpered.
His deep blue eyes locked onto hers wickedly before he added, “In this marriage, you’ll play the proper lady. There are no alleys to run to. And if you try, I’ll enjoy disciplining you in our so-called cage.”