Chapter 24
Raph sat at the head of the breakfast table while Pamela nibbled on her toast quietly, her eyes brighter than he had seen them in months. As for Camelia, she was distracting in her soft lavender gown, sipping her tea, her eyes meeting his with that rebellious look that set his blood on fire.
The memory of her touch, her moans, and her pleas never failed to make his pulse quicken.
“Pamela, Camelia,” Raph called roughly, “I’ve arranged a carriage for you both to visit the seamstress today. You’ll need a gown for the ball, and Pamela needs a dress for her birthday.”
“Are you not escorting us, Your Grace?” Camelia asked with a frown.
“No, I will be busy with my duties. I trust you two to return safely.”
They exchanged surprised looks.
“Thank you, Father. I am truly excited and grateful,” Pamela said politely.
“The Duchess is the one you should thank, Pamela. This outing was her idea, after all.”
Pamela turned to Camelia and gave her a bright smile.
“There’s no need for pleasantries, Pamela.”
“I’m glad to see the two of you getting along well.”
Perhaps too well.
“The seamstress will have options. Make sure it’s fitting for a Brentmere,” Raph added.
“You may leave the dress choices to us, Your Grace. We’ll be getting lace for Pamela, and perhaps something daring for me? What do you think, Your Grace? A gown to turn heads at the ball?” Camelia’s smile was playful as she teased him, testing his limits.
Raph’s gaze darkened as he imagined her in a scandalous gown, the fabric clinging to her curves, while her skin glowed temptingly beneath it.
“Just choose wisely, Duchess,” he warned, but his voice was thick with desire. “You’ll be on my arm the entire night, and I expect you to reflect Brentmere’s dignity.”
But he wanted her in something that drove him wild, something only he would get to peel away later.
Pamela glanced between them curiously. “Will it be a big ball? I’ve never been to one. What’s it like?”
“I haven’t attended many balls, but the ones I have were whirlwind experiences for me. They were both intense and utterly thrilling.”
“They’re big, loud, and full of people watching your every move. But you’ll handle it, Pamela. You’re a Brentmere; we were born to handle the pressure of Society,” Raph added.
“It’s just a dance, Pamela. When the time comes, you’ll dazzle everyone, and we’ll choose that dress together, too. When it was Margaret’s turn to debut, we dressed her in a gown fit for a princess! The preparations were so much better than the actual event.” Camelia smiled at Pamela reassuringly.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I look forward to experiencing it with you and your sisters,” Pamela said shyly.
“I’ve arranged a carriage for your sisters as well. They’ll join you at the seamstress. It’ll be a… lively outing,” Raph mused.
“A lively outing… What do you mean by lively?” Camelia raised an eyebrow at him.
“I meant nothing by it,” he replied coolly.
Camelia let out a soft laugh. “I’m sure you meant nothing by it, my darling husband.”
Raph caught the wit in her tone.
Her sisters… God help poor Pamela and me. She’ll have to deal with more of Camelia’s chaos.
Nevertheless, he wanted them to have a pleasant outing, and he knew how much Camelia adored her family and loved being around them.
His thoughts drifted to Camelia’s laughter and the way she lit up every room in Brentmere with her soft voice and presence.
Her sisters probably miss her.
“Will they be shopping for a gown too?” Pamela asked quietly.
“Yes, I believe they’ll be attending the ball as well.” Camelia beamed.
This should be interesting.
“Would they help me design my dress? I have no clue about dresses.”
Raph felt a pang of guilt.
I left her alone for too long. She needed a mother, and I took my time to find a woman worthy enough to help her.
“Don’t you worry about that, Pamela! They’ll be fighting over who gets to style you. But I’ll make sure you get the lace you want.”
Raph was touched by his wife’s warmth towards Pamela, but his thoughts were consumed by her body, her sweet scent, and the way her lips parted for him every time he drew near to her.
She’s weaving herself into my mind, and I’m craving her more every second.
“Pamela.” Raph turned his focus on her. “There has been a change of plans. I’ll be teaching you how to ride a horse.”
“You’ll teach me?” Pamela asked, astonished.
“Yes, is there an issue with that?”
“No, Father. I just thought you wouldn’t have time and that you’ll find a teacher.”
“I believe it would be best if I teach you. To ensure your safety.”
“Yes, Father.” He ignored the hint of disappointment in her tone.
“We’ll start tomorrow with a mare and work our way up to a stallion.”
“I would like that, Father.”
“I’ll ride with you on the trails. There will be no risks of falling or getting injured while I’m around.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea to ride together, Your Grace.” Camelia’s smile made his heart leap.
It was a strange feeling, but he held onto it.
“Yes, I think so too,” he replied dryly.
Camelia made this possible, and I’m torn between gratitude and wanting to bend her over the table.
Raph smiled briefly at Pamela. “Tomorrow, after your lessons, we’ll begin your training. We’ll take it slow, but you’ll be riding in no time.”
“Thank you, Father!” Her excitement returned.
“You’ll be gentle, won’t you, Raph?” Camelia asked, concerned.
“I am gentle when it’s called for, Duchess. You, especially, should know better,” Raph whispered so only she could hear.
He watched her skin bloom to a fine red beneath his gaze.
Her teasing drives me mad. I want to drag her to my chambers and show her just how ‘gentle’ I can be.
“Pamela, you may fetch your bonnet and coat now. The carriage shall arrive soon.”
“Yes, Father.” Pamela got up excitedly and left the dining room with a skip in her step.
When she was out of sight, Raph turned to Camelia.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“I haven’t done anything, Your Grace,” she said sweetly.
“You have done a lot in just a few days. It’s more than I have done in fifteen years.”
The confession surprised him as much as it did her, but he caught the look of appreciation on Camelia’s face.
He leaned forward, his gaze holding hers. “Before you leave for the seamstress, Duchess, I have a word of advice.”
Camelia leaned forward, too. “Pray, do tell?
“Do behave,” he said simply.
“I always behave.” She feigned insult.
“No stirring trouble in the marketplace with your sisters, please. I expect you back with gowns and not gossip.”
I want to protect them both, but I’ll give them this day of freedom.
Raph had thought about trailing along. But instead, he had instructed his driver to keep an eye on them.
Camelia smiled wickedly at him. “Oh, Raph, where’s the fun in that?”
He gave her a warning glare.
“But I’ll keep the gossip to a minimum, only if you promise you’ll save a dance for me at the ball?”
Raph’s throat tightened, his thoughts consumed by her in a ball gown, her curves brushing against him on the dance floor.
A dance with her will drive me to madness.
“I’ll save a dance for you, Duchess. Now, go, both of you. The carriage is waiting.”
Pamela returned. “I’m ready!”
Camelia rose and kept her gaze on Raph. “We’ll be back with gowns to make you proud, Your Grace. And maybe a surprise or two.”
Raph’s eyes followed them, his heart pounding with every step they took.
She’s trouble.
“No surprises, Camelia,” he reminded her. “Just come back in one piece.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She smiled sweetly and curtsied.
Camelia and Pamela stepped out of the quiet, peaceful carriage and into the bustling marketplace. The air was alive with the chatter of vendors and the scent of fresh bread and lavender.
Pamela walked beside her, her curls bouncing under her bonnet, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Pamela, you’re practically glowing! And what a beautiful sight it is.” Camelia admired the girl with motherly pride.
The carriage ride from Brentmere had been filled with Pamela’s eager questions about gowns, and Camelia’s heart swelled at the chance to share this day with her.
“Look, Pamela,” she said brightly, “there’s Iris and Margaret by the flower stall. Are you ready to meet my sisters?”
“Yes, Camelia. Although I am nervous—”
“There’s no need for that. I told you they would love you!”
Margaret spotted them and waved inelegantly.
Camelia laughed, guiding Pamela through the crowd. “And they’ll do more than help. They’ll let you know what hairstyle would suit the gown and how much frill it should have. It will be fun, you’ll see.”
Iris stood silently at a stall. She was tall and elegant in a rose-colored gown, while Margaret continued to wave at them like a maniac.
“Margaret, you can stop waving. They spotted you already, for goodness’ sake!” Iris chided.
“Camelia! Pamela! You’ve finally escaped from the Brentmere fortress!” Margaret ignored Iris’s scolding and turned to Pamela. “Oh, you’re a darling!” She pounced on Pamela, her voice like rapid-fire as she linked arms with her.
Pamela was at a loss for words, but she smiled politely at her sisters.
“I’m sorry,” Camelia mouthed to her, but she just shook her head and grinned.
“Pamela, you have to tell me everything!”
“I… I’m not sure what you’re asking for.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I have a bad habit of babbling about things without explaining. I meant you have to tell me everything about the type of gown you want for your birthday. Do you love lace? Satin? What’s your favorite color? Are you nervous?”
Camelia feared that her darling little sister would make the Pamela run for the hills.
“Margaret, give her a break. As you said, we just escaped from the Brentmere fortress.” Camelia tried to save Pamela, but Margaret glared at her like a cat with its favorite new toy.
Pamela blinked next to her, overwhelmed but seemingly comfortable. “Um… I like lace. And blue, maybe? I’ve never been to a seamstress before, so… yes, I’m nervous,” she responded shyly.