“Pamela, that’s wonderful news! Why don’t you tell me all about her?”
Mrs. Weber cleared her throat gently. “Come along now, Lady Pamela. Let Her Grace depart before the horses grow restless.”
Pamela’s fingers curled against the glass, disappointment etched across her innocent features. “I’ll tell you at dinner?”
“Of course, yes! I cannot wait to hear everything about her.” Camelia struggled to hold back her own tears as Pamela backed away from the carriage.
“You won’t forget me?” Pamela whispered so softly that Camelia almost missed it.
Her heart cracked in two. “Never. Not for a single second.”
After they said their goodbyes, the carriage lurched forward, its wheels crunching on the gravel beneath them. They rattled through the iron gates, and the familiar scent of blooming lilacs and fresh earth greeted her as Brentmere receded behind.
Camelia’s heart and mind were muddled with confusion, pain, and sadness. She longed to see her family, especially after last night. She felt used and abandoned by her husband.
When her journey finally came to an end, she let go of what little self-control she had.
The carriage wheels had barely stopped when she stumbled into Lempster’s familiar parlor, bonnet dangling from one hand, her composure in tatters.
Margaret rose first, a smile already forming. “There’s our Duchess! We’ve been…” she trailed off.
Iris’s teacup froze halfway to her lips.
Camelia didn’t speak. She simply walked straight into their arms and shattered.
Iris caught her as her knees buckled. “Camelia? Good God, what’s happened?”
Margaret’s arms came around them both, fierce and protective. “Who do I need to kill?”
Camelia tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “Start with my husband and work your way down.”
Iris eased her into the chintz armchair, then kneeled in front of her. “Talk to us.”
Camelia pressed both hands to her face, her voice muffled. “I feel… used and confused. Last night, I surrendered everything to Raph, and this morning, he looked me in the eye and told me that he brought me therejustto instruct his daughter. That I’m overstepping and I am not her mother.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed. “He saidthat?”
Camelia’s laugh was ragged and humorless. “Yes, Margaret. And I am not oblivious about what was required of me in this marriage. I just believed that after…everything, it would be different.Hewould be different. That was an absurd way of thinking because I see now that I am not a wife. Not family. Just a governess with better jewelry.”
“And Pamela? Did she hear any of this? What did she say?” Iris’s grip tightened on Camelia’s hands.
Camelia sniffled. “She wasn’t there. But she stood at the carriage window and pressed her hand to the glass, begging me not to forget her. She looked so confused and terrified that I’d vanish as everyone else did in her life. My heart is breaking for that her.”
Margaret stood, pacing like a furious cat. “Right. I’m going to Brentmere. I’ll take a horsewhip and very specific instructions.”
Iris shot her a warning look, then turned back to Camelia. “Whataren’tyou saying?”
She sees right through me.
Camelia’s tears fell faster. “He has secrets, Iris. Terrible ones. And he keeps them buried because he thinks that the truth is crueler than silence.”
Margaret stopped pacing. “He’s wrong.”
“I know,” Camelia whispered. “But every time I try to tell him that, he reminds me that I’m only there to prepare his daughter for her debut, that this marriage was based on duty only. And God help me, I still…” She pressed a fist to her chest. “I still love to be around him and Pamela. And I hate myself for it.”
Iris pulled her into another tight embrace. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Margaret cracked her knuckles. “Exactly. Three Lempster sisters against one brooding duke? He hasn’t got a prayer that would help him.”
