Raph’s jaw clenched. He wanted to say more. To tell her that this marriage was for her, to give her a companion beyond the cold efficiency of governesses and maids, someone to draw her out of her shell and keep her from fading into the background. He hoped that Camelia would change that.
The endearing words he desired to speak refused to leave his lips, too soft for a man like him, a duke forged in control and restraint. He leaned back and let her silence settle heavily upon him.
“You’ll do well to listen to her,” he continued. “She’ll ready you for your debut. No mistakes, Pamela.”
“I understand,” she replied, her nod as meek as ever.
The carriage finally halted, and Raph peeked out the window at the church’s stone facade.
Today, Camelia will be mine.
The thought of owning her made his blood hum. He stepped out of the carriage and offered a steady hand to Pamela, who took it with a small curtsy.
“A carriage will await you and your maid after the ceremony, Pamela,” Raph instructed. “I need time to discuss the Duchess’s responsibilities with Camelia. We’ll join you at Brentmere Manor after.”
“Yes, Father,” Pamela replied softly, her eyes briefly meeting his before dropping in deference.
The churchyard buzzed with guests, their murmurs rising as he escorted Pamela inside. He left her in the pews and strode to the altar, where he took his place as groom.
The rector stood ready, prayer book in hand, and the organ’s soft notes filled the air as he waited for Camelia’s arrival.
Little flower.
Raph’s thoughts drifted to Camelia again and the passionate kiss they had shared. The feel of her body stayed with him ever since she had pressed herself against him in the alley, and her moans echoed in his memory like a siren’s call. Once she was his, he would devour her every curve and sigh.
His pulse quickened as he hungered for her.
At last, the church doors opened, and a hush fell over the congregation as Lord Lempster entered first with glistening eyes. He led Lady Iris and Lady Margaret to their seats.
Lady Iris dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief, while Lady Margaret clung to her arm, whispering something that made them both stifle sobs.
Raph’s brow furrowed.They were displaying unrestrained emotions, and he worried that Pamela was too timid for that.
She’ll shrink under their intensity. I would need to temper Camelia’s fire before she?—
The thought flew out of his head when Camelia appeared.
The congregation stilled. Her ivory gown clung to her form. The silk caught the light like a second skin, accentuating the gentle swell of her hips and the elegant curve of her neck. Her dark hair was swept up, but a few tendrils escaped and teased her slender shoulders.
Her defiant, luminous eyes met his with a boldness that set his body aflame.
She’s a vision even with a scowl.
He stood straighter, his hands clasped behind him, fighting the urge to stride towards her and claim her right there.
Mine.
Lord Lempster escorted her down the aisle until they reached the altar, then placed her delicate hand in Raph’s. “Guard her with all your heart, Your Grace.”
His words felt like a plea.
“You have my word that she will always be guarded,” Raph responded with a possessive edge.
Lord Lempster smiled politely and left for the pews.
The congregation hushed as Raph and Camelia turned around, and the rector started the ceremony. His words were a solemn cadence, but Raph’s focus was on Camelia. Her breathing quickened under his gaze, and he noticed the faint flush on her powdered cheeks.
Raph braced for the moment she would bolt. He half-expected her to denounce the farce outright. But even in her defiance, she did her duty to her family. And he respected that.
