“Watch your tongue, girl. I’m offering you a future, something your father can no longer provide. If you refuse, you’re only shaming your name along with your spinster and widowed sisters,” Lord Montague spat.
Camelia flinched at the insult, and Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but their father silenced her with a look of disapproval.
“Speaking of your spinster sister.” Lord Montague turned his sly gaze upon Camelia once more. “I am curious, Lady Camelia. From whence have you returned at so unseemly an hour?”
At once, both Margaret and the Earl fixed their eyes on her, their expressions sharp with suspicion.
Bloody hell!
Camelia’s heart twisted as guilt and anger warred within her.
“I was… taking a walk in the garden,” she answered as calmly as she could.
“Oh? At this hour?” Lord Montague cocked his head.
“Are we not allowed to walk in our own gardens now?” Margaret snarled.
“Ah, yes,” Lord Montague murmured without turning his serpentine gaze away from Camelia. “Well, I suppose you shouldall enjoy everything you own for now because soon it will all be taken away.”
His lips curled back, revealing a row of perfect, pearly white teeth.
“It’s mine in all but name, Lord Lempster. With the debts you owe, you should be glad that I’m only taking Lady Margaret and not everything you own. Until then, you may…enjoy the gardens.”
“I do not believe we need your permission to do so,” Camelia shot back and watched with satisfaction as Lord Montague’s mouth twitched in annoyance.
“Not now, Julia,” the Earl said suddenly to the maid, who stood nervously in the doorway.
“I apologize, my lord, but there is a?—”
“Not now,” the Earl spoke with such sternness that even Camelia felt afraid for her beloved maid.
Julia nodded in fear, looked to her right with a helpless expression, and briskly walked away.
Lord Montague cleared his throat. “I have secured my interests and said what I came to say.” He inclined his head to the Earl with a cold, measured look, before facing Camelia, his voicedropping to a silkier menace. “Your father’s failings are not my concern. Now, step aside, Lady Camelia, or I’ll?—”
A familiar scent enveloped her as a broad shadow swept past, blocking her view of Lord Montague.
“You’ll do what?” the shadow snarled.
Camelia froze.
No!
“What… what are you doing here?” she hissed.
The Duke loomed before her, his commanding presence eclipsing Lord Montague and filling the room with quiet dominance. A soft gasp sounded behind her, and she turned just enough to see that Iris had stumbled upon the scene as well.
Oh God, no!
Panic seized her.
Across the room, her father and Margaret stood in stunned silence.
“What are you planning to do?” Camelia whispered. “You can’t just?—”
“Trust me,” he interrupted firmly.
“Trust you?” she hissed, tugging at the back of his coat, her heart thudding frantically beneath her corset.
