Chapter Ten
Malcolm couldn’t wait to leave the men who had gathered in the library. Not only was their topic of conversation boring, but Brandon Kennedy watched him closely. Malcolm knew his business partner suspected him of something, and it was his duty to prove the irritating man wrong.
When he found the right moment, he slipped out of the side door and walked outside. He didn’t know what his wife was doing, but knowing Kat, she had probably found one of her lovers and met with them in private. He really wished he could get that confounded woman out of his thoughts. He especially hoped his body would stop reacting to her tender touch.
As he walked up the slope in the yard, he noticed women had gathered on the back lawn under a canopy. They all sat with straight backs, sipping tea like it was the most important function in the world.
Then a woman with light brown hair and a curvy figure caught his gaze. Strange that her appearance would distract his attention from the other women. Camilla looked so pretty in the sunlight, and the lavender dress complemented her creamy skin. This afternoon she wore another of her altered dresses, hiding the deep-cut bodice with some fancy stitching and lace. She was probably the youngest woman here, and definitely the loveliest.
He sauntered toward them. At first none had noticed him, and when he came close enough to hear their conversation, he realized why. They talked about politics. He didn’t think most of these women here had intelligence enough for that. They also chatted about the events going on in Dorchester.
Lady Burwell spoke about the other night when Mr. Clarkston’s office had been ransacked, and he froze. Someone had done this to make him look like the culprit. He backed behind a bush and listened as he spied on them.
“I heard it was nothing but a bunch of drunken fools,” another lady mentioned.
Lady Burwell nodded. “Yes, but there had to be a mastermind behind the break-in. Such lowlife miscreants wouldn’t be able to have an intelligent thought without having a leader.”
Malcolm held his breath for the next comment.
“I heard they didn’t catch the person responsible,” another woman said. “Is this so?”
Lady Burwell set her teacup down. “I’m not certain they even have a suspect.” She puffed out her chest. “But if there is a leader, I assure you, my husband will find him.”
A gust of air escaped Malcolm’s lungs as murmurs of agreements bounced throughout the small group of women, but Camilla didn’t speak. Once again, his suspicions were aroused. The night Brandon and his wife had been to dinner, Camilla had voiced her opinion about nearly every topic, but now she merely glanced around the circle of guests. She sucked in her bottom lip, nibbling it. Her brows drew together as if she were confused. Then she cleared her throat, receiving their attention.
“Lady Burwell?” Camilla asked, frowning. “Exactly what was damaged in the man’s office?”
Lady Burwell smiled politely and met her gaze. “I don’t know. However, I was told a few files were missing. Mr. Clarkston’s son is one of our fine soldiers, and good people such as the Clarkstons should be treated with more respect.”
“Forgive me,” Camilla continued, “but can you tell me what qualifies someone as good people in Society’s eyes? Is it those who are wealthy? Is it those who have solid reputations? Because I, for one, have known lower-class people who are just as good, and yet they are not treated with respect.”
The wealthy woman sitting next to her snickered as she toyed with her pearls. “Perhaps it’s their actions that merit other’s disapproval. I have noticed the lower class are without manners.”
Ringleted heads bobbed in agreement, but Camilla’s brows still pulled together. She was obviously not pleased with the answer.
“Pardon me for saying,” she continued in harsher tones, “but I was raised as a lower-class woman. My father raised his daughters well. We had manners. I don’t believe it’s right to judge someone by their upbringing. How do we know who broke into Mr. Clarkston’s office wasn’t one of the other officers, or even someone in good standing with the community?”
A few women gasped. Malcolm bit back his surprised response, too. It was a little strange to hear her speak this way. Although he hadn’t broken into Mr. Clarkston’s office and stolen files, Malcolm would have done it to save his own neck. However, he understood why she was so derisive about the way the higher-class women degraded those of the lower class.
He wanted to hear more of what his wife thought. So far, he approved, as evidenced by the quickening of his heart.
“Mrs. Worthington, you are indeed an amazing woman, since you came from so little and now you have so much,” Lady Burwell said before clapping her hands twice. “Ladies, let us cease this serious conversation and join our husbands.” She nodded behind Camilla. “I see the men are finished with their brandy and cigars.”
Malcolm glanced toward the manor. He cursed under his breath, noticing that men were walking out on the lawns now.
He moved around the bush and toward his wife. When Camilla’s gaze landed on him, her eyes widened, and she smiled. His heart leapt, and he cursed himself again for responding like a fool.
He stopped by her side. “Good afternoon, my lovely wife. Are you in the mood for a walk?” He held out his arm. All around them, glares from the other ladies were aimed their way, but Camilla seemed not to notice as she stood and took hold of his arm.
She nodded. “I have been hoping to see Lady Burwell’s lovely garden.”
Malcolm looked at the other ladies. “Please excuse us.”
They all smiled and nodded. Having Camilla walk beside him made him feel like the luckiest man, and he wished he didn’t feel this way. But the conversation he had overheard made him proud. Not only had she voiced her questions amongst a den of wolves, but she had also entered this party knowing full well most of these women thought poorly of her.
Once they were far enough away from the others, he chuckled.
She cocked her head to look at him. “What do you find so humorous?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“Because you are determined to make those ladies hate you.” He met her questioning stare. “Half of them know you have a close relationship with their husbands, and now I’m certain the other half wonder if you know who broke into Mr. Clarkston’s office.”
She huffed. “If they do, they are imbeciles. I only asked those questions because I was curious.” She paused, and her brow furrowed. “How much did you overhear?”
“Enough.” He stopped and moved in front of her, keeping his smile only because he couldn’t control it. “But why did you say what you did?”
Shrugging, she glanced down at her hands as she twisted them against her stomach. “I recall you telling me how uppity these women were and how our taxes are paying for their luxuries, and, well… when I could tell they were being judgmental, I couldn’t stop my thoughts.”
He took her hands in his, stopping her nervousness. The heat from her body blended with his. Once again, the incredible feeling of desire crept into his system. He stroked her cheek with his finger then lifted her chin until she met his eyes. “Camilla?”
“Yes?”
He smiled wider, his heart beating much faster than before. Excitement welled inside his chest, softening his feelings toward her. This time he didn’t fight it. “I’m very happy to see you have a heart, and it’s not as selfish as I thought.”
“It’s as I told you several times already, I have changed. I’m no longer the woman you married.”
“I’m beginning to see that,” he said softly.
She grew silent as her gaze roamed over his face. He enjoyed the way she studied his eyes before letting her attention move to his lips. The erratic thud in his heart increased. What kind of power did she have over him? More importantly, why did he let it affect him?
“Camilla, you shouldn’t look at me that way unless you want to be kissed good and hard.”
“Please forgive me. I suppose it’s not proper for you to kiss me in public.”
His heart flipped, nearly knocking him over with surprise. “Are you saying you want me to kiss you?”
Her mouth turned up in an impish smile. “If you don’t know the answer to that, then I haven’t made my desires known very well, have I?”
“My dear wife, it’s dangerous to tempt me like that.” He wrapped his arm around her waist while he cupped the back of her head, pulling her close. “I’m a normal man, no matter how much of an ogre you wish me to be.”
He waited, expecting her to curl her lip as she often did. Instead her face softened and tenderness gleamed in her green eyes. Where had the witch gone, the one who had made him regret his decision to marry? This enchanting woman was certainly not that creature.
Her gaze warmed with invitation as she shook her head. “I never thought you an ogre.”
“Oh? That’s not the impression you gave me a while ago.”
“Malcolm, please forget about back then.” She swept back a lock of hair that had fallen over his brow. “I don’t even want you to remember that woman.”
How he wished he wished he could just erase the past two years. But he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Camilla.” He dropped his hands and stepped away. “But you are asking too much of me.”
Her gaze lowered to the ground, and she gave a forlorn nod.
“But come.” He took her hand and placed it on his elbow. “I promised to show you Lady Burwell’s flower garden, and I’m not leaving your side until you see it.”
She gave his arm a slight squeeze, and he looked down into her serious expression. “You know, Mr. Worthington, I think you like me more than you realize.”
He laughed, cursing under his breath for being so obvious. “Just like you, Mrs. Worthington, I’m a good performer.”
*
The evening’s mealand dancing afterward was a huge success for Lady Burwell. But Camilla thought the bigger success belonged to Malcolm. He played the part of an adoring husband well. If only she could find that glimmer she had seen in his eyes when he kissed her, then her day would be complete.
When other men asked her to dance, she grudgingly accepted, but the distrust in Malcolm’s eyes tugged at her heart. More than anything, she wanted to tell him the truth. She was Kat’s twin—and nothing like her sister.
Finally, the moment she both dreaded, yet anticipated, arrived. She postponed retiring for the night as long as possible, but once the gazes of her host and hostess fell upon her, she realized they too had heard the rumors and wondered about the Worthington marriage. Camilla had to give the impression all was well.
Inhaling a deep breath for courage, she walked to Malcolm, who conversed with Brandon Kennedy and another man she wasn’t acquainted with. She tapped her husband on the shoulder to get his attention. When he looked at her, she smiled.
She glanced at the group. “Gentlemen, forgive the interruption.” Then she turned to Malcolm. “I just wanted you to know I’m retiring for the evening.” Heat gathered in her cheeks from her announcement.
“I’m ready to retire, also. I shall come with you.”
“Malcolm,” the other man interceded. “Don’t forget about the fox hunt tomorrow at dawn.”
“Yes, Mr. Crowley, I plan on attending. Now, gentlemen, if you will please excuse us, we shall see you in the morning.”
Apparently, this was the third partner in the business. Short, plump, and balding. He didn’t look much older than Malcolm, but then, the way the man carried himself and waddled as though his legs ached, he was probably much older than she suspected.
Camilla slipped her arm around Malcolm’s elbow as they walked side by side up the grand staircase toward the bedroom. Her heart pounded with every step, and she hoped he couldn’t feel her shaking.
He opened the door to their room and followed her inside. When the door closed and locked, her heart leapt to her throat. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to control her mind from wandering toward the bed.
“So,” he began.
She jumped and turned his way. He leaned back against the door with his arms folded over his broad chest. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin, and merriment twinkled in his eyes. Why did he have to look so sensual?
“Yes?”
“Are you ready to share the bed with your husband?”
“Of course, Malcolm.” She forced a laugh. “I don’t want you sleeping on the floor.”
“Good, because I wasn’t going to sleep on the floor. I have a big day tomorrow, and I need my rest.”
“Yes, I heard mention of a fox hunt.”
He nodded.
“Have you ever been on one?” she asked.
“It has been a while, but I still remember.”
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. It irritated her the way he looked so casual and unaffected, especially as the nerves inside her body played leapfrog. Then again, she was his wife. There was no reason she should be nervous, except for the fact she wanted him to know she was Camilla and not Kat.
“I suppose I shall get ready for bed now.” She glanced toward the massive four-poster, the sheets already invitingly turned down. She walked to the armoire where the maid had placed her possessions, then caught sight of a nightgown already lying at the foot of the bed. “Who put this here?”
“Burwell’s servant, of course.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I didn’t instruct her to do this.”
“I did.” He shrugged. “It’s her job.”
A tremble ran through her body, but she smiled. “Thank you.”
“I shall step outside for a few minutes while you change,” he said.
“I appreciate that.”
When he closed the door, she sighed. But the worst wasn’t over. She still had to lie next to him throughout the entire night. It was a good thing the mattress was so large.
She undressed without hesitation then quickly threw on her flimsy pink nightdress. How could she spend the night in the same bed with him? What if he tried to kiss her? She would certainly melt into his arms. Under no circumstances could she let that happen until she told him the truth.
And that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Not until she knew he had feelings for her—and that he wasn’t a criminal.
She blew out a few of the candles, hoping to hide herself as much as possible. She rushed to the vanity and yanked out the pins holding her hairstyle together, then pulled a brush through her hair, not worrying how it tortured her scalp. Before she had brushed the mandatory one hundred strokes and had time to braid her hair, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door. Malcolm. She dropped the brush on the vanity and darted to the bed. Just as she crawled under the blankets and pulled them to her chin, the door opened.