She waited with bated breath for her lie to sink in.
“But your conversation seemed… unusual, as if more happened between you than a simple exchange,” Margaret said, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
“Unusual, indeed,” Iris murmured softly, squinting at Camelia as if she knew the truth.
“And you’ve never met him before?” Margaret probed, leaning forward with anticipation.
“You both know I have not attended the Seasons since…”
“Since Mother’s passing,” Iris finished softly, and a gentle hush settled over them.
“It is still utterly romantic, the way he swooped in and saved us all from the villainous Montague.” Margaret’s brow furrowed, her voice laced with skepticism. “Although, what is his relation to Lord Montague?”
“I’m curious about that as much as you are,” Camelia admitted, then quickly softened her tone. “Still, let us focus on the good.” She took her sister’s hands firmly in her own. “Margaret, you were about to be forced into marrying that monster. I heard vile things about him, and I would rather die than see any of you with someone like him! I am simply grateful that you are safe.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“I would do anything for you two!” Camelia let out a small sob as they all embraced.
“But that is not your job, Camelia,” Margaret said shakily.
“You cannot protect us all,” Iris added.
They held each other, and Camelia was glad that she hadn’t ruined herself. She would have to thank the Duke for saving her from her own humiliating plan.
“But a marriage to a duke you hardly know?” Iris pulled away, her eyes wide with interest. “Are you certain about this? Did you… Did you promise him something?”
“No!” Camelia gasped, her cheeks flushing.
They can’t know how far I was willing to go.
Yet the thought of him, of his dominance, and the raw intensity of his desire, sent a shiver through her, igniting a heat she had never known before.
“I made no promises to him. I hardly understand it myself, for I have spoken to him but little.”
She had done far more than merely speak to him.
Her breath hitched at the memory of his rough hands against her soft skin, the searing, deep kiss, and the way his eyes had roamed over her body, as though she were his to unravel in every sinful way.
“You’re blushing!” Margaret jabbed a finger at her with a delightfully unladylike laugh.
“I am not!”
Camelia could not help but smile as her sisters burst into more laughter.
No matter the reason behind his proposal, I will thank him for saving my family.
“Camelia, you must be certain about this,” Iris cautioned, drawing her attention. “Marrying without love… it is no small thing. It is… difficult.”
Love was the last thing on Camelia’s mind, especially where the Duke of Brentmere was concerned. He seemed the type of man who thrived on command and the fear he inspired.
She shivered at the memory of his piercing ocean-blue eyes.
Margaret, ever bold, tilted her head. “Do you ever regret it, Iris? Not re-marrying after… after your husband’s death?”
Iris’s expression remained serene. “No…”
“Why not?”
