Camellia was more than just the “good girl” of the clan. He would not have put it past her to sing at family musicales until she was eighty years old, merely because her mother asked it of her, and Camellia would never disappoint.
Something was amiss.
“If these musicales bring you so much joy, why do you look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light.
“These musicals don’t bring me joy,” Camellia said quietly. “Singing does.”
He stared at her in confusion. “But that’s what you do at the musicale. Bryony plays her violin, I bang a bit at the pianoforte, and you take center stage and sing.”
“That’s not what I want,” Camellia whispered.
Blast. Performing before a crowded salon filled with everyone she’d ever known might be too much to ask of his shy wallflower of a sister.
He touched her cheek. “What do you want?”
Camellia blinked at him as if no one had ever asked before.
Heath swallowed his guilt, as he realized it might even be true. As the good girl, Camellia did what Society expected. She did whatever their mother expected. She behaved exactly as Heath expected. It had never occurred to him that any of it had been against her will.
“Tell me what you need,” he said again.
“Not this stage, and not these songs.” Her eyes were feverish, her jaw determined. “I don’t want to perform at my parents’ home anymore. I wish to be an opera singer.”
Heath’s world tipped on its axis. “A what?”
“An opera singer,” she repeated louder. “I want to try songs that challenge me, to sing lyrics of love and loss, jealousy and joy. I want to perform on the greatest stages in England.”
Heath stared at her in shock. Surely she was exaggerating. “Cam, if anyone hears you say that, your reputation will be ruined forever.”
“I don’t want them to hear me say it—I want them to hear me sing.Realsongs.” Camellia took a deep breath. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” Heath repeated hoarsely. “What do you mean, tonight?”
She gave him a considering look. “We’ve practiced other songs.”
“We’ve always practiced other songs,” he stammered. “We never intended to perform them publicly.”
She shook her head. “You might not have, but I always did. This is my chance.”
“Your chance to ruin yourself. I may suppress scandals for a living, Cam, but there is a limit to what I can do. You becoming an opera singer would be out of my hands.”
Her gaze darkened. “My life should be in no one’s hands but my own.”
“Perhaps tonight you could sing one of the less salacious songs,” Heath suggested quickly. He could not allow his sister to ruin her life. If their mother already despaired of her daughters one day finding good matches, publicly pursuing a career on the stage would ensure it never happened. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“Doyouhear whatI’msaying?” Camellia’s eyes took on a glassy sheen. “I want to be an opera singer. I’m tired of living a lie. I want to show London what I can really do. I’d hoped you might support me.”
Her simple words slammed into his gut.
Of course he wished to support his sister. He had dedicated himself to supporting her since the moment she’d been born. He thought hehadbeen supporting her.
He couldn’t believe that he was just now learning his closest sister and bosom friend had long dreamed of pursuing a career on stage.
Heath was ashamed to realize the omission was undoubtedly because she anticipated him reacting in favor of mitigating any potential scandal such dreams could cause her, rather than maximizing the potential to realize those dreams. His stomach turned.
Should he let Camellia ruin her life, if that was what she wished to do? She was her own woman. And yet he was her big brother.
He had always been driven by a compulsion to do what was right. Never had he felt so conflicted. He wanted to give Camellia the freedom to live any life she picked, but he also wanted to protect her at all costs.
