Camelia sighed in resignation as she took his arm, and they resumed walking in an uncomfortable silence. They entered the grand hall, where guests mingled amid tables laden with silver and crystal.
But it was the adjoining gardens that stole her breath, decorated with cascading floral arches, unlit lanterns, and tables set with fine china under a canopy of blooming wisteria.
The air hummed with laughter and the clink of glasses. The aroma of fresh pastries and roasted meats wafted through the air, instantly making her hungry.
“Oh, the gardens are even more enchanting up close,” Camelia breathed. “Look at those arches. It’s like a fairytale.”
The Duke glanced around and nodded curtly. “The garden’s maintenance will be your responsibility; you will command the staff from now on.”
“I believe I would enjoy that.”
“Sit, Duchess. We’ll greet the guests soon.”
“Thank you, Your Grace, for reminding me to fulfil even the simplest task, such as sitting.”
She heard the sharp intake of his breath as she sat smugly and elegantly on the high-back chair at the head table.
She eyed the array of fruits and delicious dishes before her hungrily. At the far end, she caught Margaret waving for her attention as if they hadn’t seen each other for ages.
Camelia waved back and peeked at each guest, trying to remember their names and titles, until she found Lady Pamela, seated quietly nearby.
The girl really was beautiful. Her dark curls framed her pale and delicate features. Her doe-like eyes spoke of her innocence. But as much as Camelia tried, she failed to find a hint of resemblance between her and the Duke.
“She’s so quiet, like a bird afraid to sing.”She caught Lady Pamela’s eye and offered her a warm smile.
The young girl hesitated at first, but eventually smiled bashfully.
“Pamela rarely speaks,” the Duke said so quietly she almost missed it over the chatter of the guests.
She turned to him. “She seems sweet, but so reserved. Perhaps she’s overwhelmed by all of this?”
“It will be your job to find out what upsets her and fix it. The three of us will dine together tonight. You can speak with her then,” the Duke replied flatly.
“Am I not permitted to ask you questions?”
His continuous lack of explanations began to annoy her.
“You may.”
“Well, that seems untrue.”
“True or not, you are here to prepare her for her debut, not pester her or me with unhelpful questions.”
“I’d like to know her better, as her new… guardian. How am I supposed to do that if you tell me nothing about her?”
The Duke glowered at her. “Your duty will be to teach her the ways of a lady and not play with her mind or emotions. She needs guidance, not coddling.”
Camelia arched an eyebrow. “Guidance? Like your ‘training’ for me?”
“Precisely. She’s to debut in a few years. You’re here to help shape her.”
“Pardon the interruption, Your Graces,” drawled a tall, golden-haired man. He executed an absurdly theatrical bow, sweeping one hand as if presenting Camelia to an invisible audience. “David Vernon, the Marquess of Barrow and Raph’s dearest friend. At your service, Your Grace. Though I must protest—Raph has been hoarding England’s most dazzling treasure and never breathed a word.”
Camelia blinked, then laughed despite herself. “Lord Barrow, I presume the hoarding was mutual, since I’ve never heard of you either.”
David clutched his chest dramatically, as though mortally wounded. “A dagger to the heart on her wedding day! Cruel, beautiful creature. Raph, you fiend, how dare you keep her hidden? I’d have kidnapped her months ago and saved us all this tedious ceremony.”
Raph’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Off with you, David. Now.”
