They’ve been talking? About what?
Her stomach twisted as she watched her father nod solemnly before turning back to the house, his shoulders no longer hunched with the weight of their family’s despair. She ducked behind a hedge, her breathing shallow, waiting until his footsteps faded into the manor.
Now or never,Camelia.
As the carriage door began to close, Camelia darted forward, her slippers crunching on the gravel.
She yanked the door open and climbed inside, her heart racing as she faced the Duke, who was lounging in the plush velvet seat, one eyebrow arched in utter surprise.
“Lady Camelia.” His voice was laced with amusement. “This is… unexpected.”
She steadied herself, her hands gripping the edge of the seat as the carriage rocked slightly.
“I need to apologize!” she blurted, struggling to catch her breath.
“Apologize?” The Duke’s eyebrow rose higher, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “For what, exactly? Bursting into my carriage like a tempest?”
“On behalf of Margaret,” she continued, ignoring his remark. “She was out of line, teasing you like that.”
“Was she?” The Duke leaned forward with interest. “Your sister’s tongue is sharp, but I’ve heard worse. She’s spirited, I’ll give her that.”
“And…” Camelia swallowed, her pulse quickening. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for my family.”
The Duke’s smirk widened, his gaze locked on hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter.
“Very honorable of you, Lady Camelia,” he teased, but his voice had an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “But you must know this is highly improper—jumping into my carriage like that. Alone and unchaperoned.”
Her knees weakened, that familiar sensation washing over her as it did every time they were alone.
Why does he do this to me?
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with the same intensity. “No matter what I do, you always find flaws,” she said, sharper than she had intended. “I come to apologize, to honor our agreement, and you call me improper? You’re impossible to please, Your Grace.”
“Oh, trust me, little flower,” he purred, “pleasing me is simpler than you think.”
He rose from his seat with a predator’s grace and slid onto the velvet bench beside her, his broad frame filling the cramped space until the air seemed to hum.
Camelia’s fingers were curled into the folds of her skirts as she fought to steady herself against the heat of his nearness.
He’s too close, too overwhelming. How does he unravel me so easily?
“You climb into my carriage, bold as brass,” he whispered, his lips curling into a dangerous smile. “I’d say you’re the one defying convention, Camelia.”
Her heart pounded, but she tilted her chin, pride sparking in her chest.
“And does my boldness please you, Your Grace?” she asked innocently. “Or will I require some of your… discipline for it?”
A sharp intake of breath betrayed his composure, and before he could recover, a low, throaty chuckle escaped him. The sound reverberated through her like a pulse, sending goosebumps across her skin. She struggled to hold his gaze, and a flush spread from her cheeks to her chest.
“Careful, little flower,” he murmured, leaning so close that she felt his breath against her ear. “Keep speaking like that, and you’ll find out just how much of your defiance… pleases me.”
She swallowed thickly. “I’ve reviewed your terms,” she began, forcing her voice to stay steady. “And I have an objection. There will not be an heir. Not untilIdecide it’s the right time.”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths, and he brushed a strand of her hair from her face.
“An objection?” he drawled. “You think you can dictate terms to me, Camelia?”
“I’m not your property,” she shot back, though her voice broke. “I’ll marry you, I’ll raise Pamela, but an heir? That’s my choice, not yours.”
