“You’re not a burden, Pamela. You’re my only child, and it’s my responsibility to prepare you for your future. Understood?”
“Yes, Father,” she replied, her eyes dropping back to her lap, her shoulders curling inward.
He studied her for a moment, then turned towards the door. “Start preparing. The new Duchess will arrive after we are wed.”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode out, his boots echoing on the polished floor.
Pamela was too quiet and too eager to fade away, but Camelia was fierce with her sisters, protective, and always guiding them with a steady hand. She even tried to sell her virtue to save her sister from Lord Montague’s grasp. She’ll mold Pamela into a proper lady and… keep her from feeling too lonely in the process.
It’s time to claim my Duchess.
The next day, Raph strode up the steps of Lempster Estate, his boots crunching on the stone. He ignored the surprised footman who scrambled to open the door.
They weren’t expecting me so soon, but propriety be damned. I have terms to set, and Camelia needs to understand her place in this arrangement.
Pamela’s presentation to Society was quickly approaching and with no maternal figure in her life, apart from Mrs. Weber, Raph took it upon himself to equip her. He refused to allow his own chaos to disrupt his plans for her. Preparing her for a safe and promising future was a priority.
The door swung open, and he entered without invitation, his presence filling the foyer like a storm cloud.
Lord Lempster was absent, but Lady Camelia and her two sisters were gathered in the drawing room, their conversation suspiciously halting when they spotted him.
Lady Camelia’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and wariness. Lady Iris looked prim and proper as always, while Lady Margaret, the youngest, arched an eyebrow with that unfiltered curiosity of hers.
What trouble have I gotten myself into? Now there are even more women to deal with.
“Your Grace,” Lady Camelia greeted, rising quickly and bobbing a quick curtsy. “We weren’t expecting you so early. Is… everything all right?”
“I require a private audience with my future bride,” Raph demanded, his gaze fixed on her.
Her skin glowed a delicate pink from the morning’s exertions, and he battled the urge to leave bite marks on her flesh, branding her as his for days to come.
There are more pressing matters to see to, man.
Lady Margaret leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Private? Well, go on then, Camelia. We won’t tell Father!”
She let out a giggle, which was swiftly silenced by Lady Iris’s piercing glare.
Raph ignored her, his eyes never leaving Lady Camelia’s.
Lady Iris fidgeted, her hands twisting in her lap nervously. “But Your Grace, a private audience? Without a chaperone? That would be most improper.”
“I believe we are past propriety, Lady Iris,” Raph replied coolly. “Your sister and I have matters to discuss that concern our future. Alone.”
Lady Camelia hesitated, and he noticed the flush on her cheeks.
“Your Grace, perhaps we can speak in the library. It’s quiet there and not so private.”
She looked at Lady Iris, who nodded in agreement.
Raph noticed the small exchange and couldn’t help but admire their sisterly bond.
“Lead the way, Lady Camelia.” He waved his hand.
His focus was on Lady Camelia’s graceful strides ahead of him, the seductive sway of her hips, and he remembered the feel of them in his hands.
Focus.
They entered the library, and the scent of aged leather and paper enveloped them. Raph closed the door behind him with a decisive click, and the sound echoed like a seal on their fate.
