Chapter 25
“You were right,” Raph whispered in Camelia’s ear while they danced together, avoiding another boring conversation with an elderly couple.
“A woman is always right,” Camelia chirped.
Raph’s jaw ticked, but he kept his voice steady, leaning closer to her to keep their conversation private.
“I meant you were right about this, Duchess. It’s my duty to accompany you to these events, to show the ton that this family exists.”
She smiled smugly at him.
“But don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, Raph, I’m right about more than just balls and gowns. You should listen to me more often. I was right about Pamela, too. So it’s clear that I’m not just a pretty accessory for your arm.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. But the only way to ensure that everything goes as planned is through rules and control, Camelia. Without them, it’s chaos. And people who thrive in chaos are… dangerous.”
Camelia laughed softly, undeterred. “Control and rules are an illusion, Raph. A natural disaster could sweep away everything you’ve built: your rules, your schedules, and your high walls. You can’t hold back life itself with orders.”
Raph refused to think about losing everything he had worked so hard for. All his rules and schedules were there so that chaos would never break out. And they will remain in place despite the changes Camelia had made.
“I will think about that when I’m reminding you of who sets the rules,” he murmured, and she shivered as his breath tickled her skin.
“Is that a promise, Your Grace?” she asked breathlessly, smiling at a couple who danced past them.
“I guess we’d see once we’re alone.”
“Oh? But you’d have to catch me first, and I’m quicker than you think.” Camelia smirked. “But on a serious note, Raph. Sometimes you have to break the rules.”
“I disagree.”
“Of course you do,” Camelia sighed loudly.
“Camelia, if Pamela ever gets hurt because you decided to teach her that rules are meant to be broken, I will never forgive you.”
Camelia flinched as if his words reached out and slapped her across her face. “You believe I would intentionally hurt Pamela?”
“If you choose to teach her the wrong things, then yes, that is intentional in my eyes.”
She laughed humorlessly. “After everything, you still think so little of me?”
“It’s not about what I think of you, Camelia. It’s about the changes you made in Brentmere.”
“Did my way not help Pamela emerge from her shell?”
“It did.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“You’re changing everything, and it’s… not right.”
“Raph, your idea of right is suffocating to others. Did you ever think about that?”
Before Raph could retort, Lord Haverford, their host, approached them. His jovial voice cut through their whispered argument, halting them.
“Your Grace, may I steal your lovely Duchess for a moment? The ladies are eager to meet Brentmere’s new mistress.” He offered Camelia his arm with a smile, oblivious to the tension.
Camelia glared at Raph, then gave him a mocking smile. “Would you miss me too much, my darling husband?”
“Oh my, isn’t she a delight?” Lord Haverford chuckled.
Raph’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. “Go on, Duchess. Don’t keep Lord Haverford and the ladies waiting.”
Camelia turned away from him, but he watched her as she moved gracefully through the ballroom. Her crimson gown shimmered and stood out under the chandelier’s golden light. Each step made her a radiant rose amongst the thorns.
Whispers had swirled around them when they entered, and the ton buzzed with curiosity at her rare appearance.
Camelia’s absence from Society had left many gentlemen unacquainted with her allure, and now her presence stirred the room’s intrigue, ruffling the feathers of the elite. She was a vision, and he noticed how they all stared at her.
Raph withdrew to a shadowed corner, his brandy glass cool in his hand as his eyes locked on his wife, possessive and unyielding.
She’s mine.
From a distance, he watched her laugh with the ladies. Her charm was effortless, and her presence was magnetic.
His thoughts churned. The memory of stroking her soft skin while she lay bare across the kitchen table clashed with the sight of her now, confident and untamed.
He tensed when Lord Ashton approached her. He was one of the youngest gentlemen in the ton and known to be quite rakish. Yet something about the young man’s smile felt too familiar as he leaned close to Camelia and coaxed a genuine laugh from her.
Raph’s grip on his glass tightened until he heard a soft crack. A wave of possessiveness surged through him.
He advanced, then stopped and muttered to himself, “Get a grip, Raph.”
But she’s mine. My Duchess. My wife.
“You know… jealousy doesn’t suit you.” David’s teasing tone pulled him out of his dark thoughts.
Raph shot his friend a cold glare, yet he was glad to see a friendly face. “Don’t be absurd, David. She’s my Duchess; she knows her place.”
“She sure does. She’s charming half the ton while you brood in the corner.”
“Such is the duty of a duchess. Is Lord Ashton standing too close to her?”
David laughed and clapped him on the back. “Wipe that dreary look off your face, Raph. I’m sure Lord Ashton is just complimenting her gown and charming her wit. Relax, you’ve got no rival there. And when can I expect my turn to converse with your darling wife?”
Raph ignored his last question. “Dreary look? This is how I look naturally.”
“Oh,” David muttered with a frown.
The two friends eyed each other and chuckled.
“Can you quit staring like a hawk? I’m sure you make her laugh much more!” David took a swig of his drink as a young lady smiled and brushed past him. His eyes followed her until she gave him one last bashful look and disappeared in the crowd.
“Hypocrite,” Raph scoffed.
“That’s no way to talk to a friend,” David said sternly, but a hint of humor betrayed him.
Raph’s eyes drifted back to Camelia. “Why didn’t she laugh like that in my presence?”
He had been too busy making her moan and cry out in pleasure that he hadn’t thought of the simpler duties, like making his wife laugh.
Camelia’s head was tilted back now, her laughter ringing across the room as Lord Ashton gestured animatedly. She was radiant, and it killed Raph that another man drew that laugh from her.
“I do not doubt that you have the humor of a court jester, old friend. I do not doubt it all.” David’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Speaking of Camelia, where are her lovely sisters?”
“They couldn’t make it to the ball; their father was unwell.”
“How disappointing. Will he recover?”
“Yes, thankfully.”
Raph felt terrible for dragging Camelia to the ball, but she was not reluctant when she received the news.
“Enough about them. What’s your excuse for lurking here instead of charming the ladies in London’s bars?”
David laughed, deflecting. “Oh, I’m charming enough here as it is. But I’m more interested in watching you unravel, Raph. Your Duchess is trouble, and you love it.”
Raph drained his glass, his eyes locked on Camelia. “Trouble is what she is. But you were right, David, about letting her in.”
“How did that go?”
“Quite well. Pamela spoke to me about her passions.”
“Oh? And what was that like?”
“She likes horse riding. Could you imagine that?”
“Ha! Little Pamela never fails to surprise me. She gets that from you, you know?”
Raph nodded proudly, but his eyes were drawn to where Lord Ashton was reaching out to touch his wife’s bare arm.
“Damn it!” he hissed.
He set his drink down, glaring at the back of Lord Ashton’s head. “If you’ll excuse me, David. I’m going to get what’s mine.”
Camelia felt a hand close firmly around her arm and gently pull her away from Lord Ashton.
“Raph?”
There was no need to ask; she knew his touch, and her body reacted before her mind did.
The ballroom’s golden glow faded as he steered her towards a quieter alcove. His eyes were dark with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.
“Why did you drag me away from the most intriguing and funny conversation I’ve had in a while?”
“You believe him to be intriguing?” he snapped.
“Raph, what’s wrong? You’re acting like I’ve committed a crime by laughing at a young man’s jokes.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Camelia. You were… monopolizing Lord Haverford’s guests. I thought it was time to move on.”
“What are you talking about?” Camelia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied her brooding husband. Until realization hit her. “Good heavens, the great Duke of Brentmere is jealous?”
A thrill surged through her, and her lips curled into a teasing smile.
“Have I been monopolizing the guests? Or are you just jealous, Your Grace?”
“Jealous of that fool? Never!”
“You don’t like seeing me enjoy another man’s company?”
The thought of him burning for her was intoxicating.
Raph clenched his jaw. “Don’t be absurd, Duchess. I’m merely ensuring you don’t exhaust yourself with idle chatter.”
Camelia stepped closer to him. “Oh, Raph, you’re practically glowering. Admit it, you don’t like seeing me laugh with someone else?”
He exhaled sharply, his eyes locking onto hers with a coldness that made her smile fade.
“Camelia, this… feeling is unsettling, and you’re the cause of many unsettling feelings.”
“What would you have me do, Raph? Lock myself in a tower, available only to you? Shall I wear a veil to keep the ton at bay?” she huffed.
“Don’t tempt me, Duchess. A tower might suit you; I’d have you completely bound to me, where no one else can have you.” There was no trace of humor in his eyes as he looked down at her.
His possessiveness enveloped her, a thrilling current that sent her pulse racing, and her body responded with a forbidden ache.
Her nipples pebbled against the confines of her corset, and heat pooled between her legs, urging her to press closer and have him claim her right there in the shadowed alcove.
“You have wanted to tame me from the very beginning, but you fail to remember that I’m not so easily tamed.” Her sultry voice echoed in the small space between them.