She froze under his touch, speechless, while his fingers lingered on her skin. Her mind was a whirl of confusion when he drew back. She craved to feel his touch again, hot and rough against her smooth skin.
Why does he affect me so?
“I’d have thought you’d show gratitude to the man who saved your family.” His voice cut through her spiraling thoughts as the heat of his body teased her senses. “Perhaps I will have to teach you a lesson for your insolence when you become my wife.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “A suitable discipline that will leave you breathless and begging for my mercy.”
Camelia let out a soft gasp, but before she could muster a response, the Duke turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the garden, her thoughts and body in utter chaos.
Why did he refuse me then, only to bind himself to me now?
She retreated to her chamber, the weight of the morning’s events pressing down on her. Alone in her bed, she paced restlessly, her mind replaying what had happened in the alley. The Duke’s shadowed eyes locked on hers, the strength of his grip as he had pulled her close, the moment she had offered herself and he had turned away.
“Why marry me?” she whispered into the darkness, her voice barely audible.
What does he gain from this, and what happened between him and Lord Montague? Was it pity, duty, or something deeper that I can’t yet fathom?
A man like him, with power and wealth, choosing a woman who had nearly sold herself to save her family, made no sense. Yet his words echoed in her mind.
My Duchess.
The possessiveness in his tone, the way his eyes had darkened when he had held her chin, stirred something within her she couldn’t ignore.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts a whirl of desire and doubt.
If he’d taken me in that alley, would I have regretted it?
The question lingered, unanswered, as she imagined his breath hot against her neck, claiming her with a fierceness that matched the intensity of his gaze.
The fantasy of him on her and inside her was fleeting but potent, leaving her flushed and restless. Her body ached with a need she barely understood.
He torments me.
She uncurled her fist, still holding on to the object he had placed there, and found her missing hairpin in the center of her palm.
CHAPTER 9
“Your debut is approaching, Pamela.” Raph stood in the drawing room of Brentmere Manor as he addressed the young girl sitting at the window. “It’s time you were properly prepared to enter Society.”
She’s growing up too fast.
Pamela, nearly sixteen, kept her eyes on the embroidery in her lap, her fingers pausing mid-stitch.
“Yes, Father,” she murmured deferentially. “I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing on her. “You’re to be presented as a lady now. You’ll need guidance, someone to coach you, to ensure you don’t falter. It took me a while, but I’ve found a woman for the task.”
Her head rose slightly, curiosity flickering in her sad eyes. “A woman?”
“The future Duchess of Brentmere,” Raph clarified, his tone brooking no argument. “She will take you under her wing, teach you the graces required for your station. She’ll oversee your debut.”
Pamela’s lips parted, but she quickly pressed them shut, nodding. “If it pleases you, Father. I… I will do my best.”
“It’s not about pleasing me,” he said, folding his arms. “Your future depends on your debut. You will take the necessary lessons, and follow a strict schedule that will prepare you to live outside the confines of Brentmere. The Duchess will know what’s to be expected of you, and shewillsee to it.”
Pamela’s fingers tightened on her embroidery, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be a burden to you. I’ll learn quickly, I promise, and then…”
Raph’s jaw tightened.
I’m terrible at this.
