His curt response left her reeling, but she noticed the hint of curiosity in Lady Pamela’s eyes when she mentioned her sisters.
The Duke’s jaw clenched, and she smiled sweetly at him when he returned his attention to her. His eyes darted to her lips for a second, and she felt the familiar heat pulse between her thighs.
Camelia tried to forget that her wedding night was approaching, but as dinner slowly came to an end, her courage evaporated.
Have I pushed him too far? What will he do when we’re alone?
Lady Pamela glanced between them, her expression unreadable.
But the Duke continued, undeterred. “Pamela, you’ll join Camelia for morning lessons starting tomorrow. She’ll teach you what’s expected for your debut.”
“Yes, Father,” Lady Pamela said nervously.
Camelia inwardly scolded herself for making her feel uncomfortable.
“Lady Pamela, perhaps we could walk in the gardens tomorrow? They’re so lovely. I’d love to see your favorite spots,” she spoke gently.
Lady Pamela nodded curtly, not meeting her eyes. “If you wish, Your Grace.”
As the meal ended, the Duke rose, excusing himself. “I have matters to attend to. Camelia, ensure that Pamela retires early.”
“Of course,” Camelia replied, watching him stride out, his broad frame distracting even in retreat.
Left alone with Lady Pamela, Camelia seized the moment. “Lady Pamela, I know this is all new, but I’d love to be your friend. Maybe we could share stories or explore Brentmere together?”
Lady Pamela’s eyes suddenly hardened as she pushed her chair back and stood up. “You will never be my mother!” she spat.
Camelia froze, the words cutting deep. “I… I don’t wish to replace your mother in any way,” she said softly. “But I’d like to be someone you can trust and?—”
“Good night, Your Grace.” Lady Pamela curtsied stiffly and left without another word, her footsteps echoing in the quiet dining room.
Camelia’s pulse beat frantically, her first day as Duchess was already in shambles. Just as she was about to escape to her chambers, the heavy oak doors opened with a slow, deliberate creak, and the Duke marched in like a tempest.
His chiseled jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes blazed with a fury that made her breath catch. Each step of his polished boots on the parquet floor was a thunderclap, closing the distance until he loomed over her, his masculine scent flooding her senses.
“One minute, Camelia,” he growled, and the rumble sent shivers down her spine. “One bloody meal as my wife, and you’ve sent Pamela running?”
Camelia’s guilt grew, but she lifted her chin, her voice sharp despite the heat pooling in her core. “I was trying to reach her. If you told me just a little about her, maybe this would have never happened!”
He laughed—a dark, humorless sound—and stepped closer until she felt the heat radiating from him. “You’re tearing at fifteen years of careful control, Duchess. You think you can waltz in and fix what I’ve protected in one day?”
“Can you not see that your protection is failing her?” she shot back, stepping into his space, her breasts nearly brushing his chest. “And you plan for me to submit to you and give you an heir when your current daughter sits in uncomfortable silence around you?”
The Duke’s eyes darkened as she had never seen before. “An heir? Oh, little flower, you’re already messing with that plan, aren’t you? Tell me, will you ruin that, too?”
Her breath hitched, but she held her ground, her voice dripping with defiance. “Maybe I’ll make youbegfor it first, Your Grace.”
The air crackled, thick with tension and desire.
In one swift, possessive motion, the Duke gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the mahogany dining table. She gasped when the cool wood touched her thighs, and he stepped between her parted legs. Her light blue gown bunched around her hips, exposing the delicate skin above her stockings, and his hands settled there, firm and searing.
“I am not a man who begs, Camelia. When I want something, I claim it.” He squeezed her thighs, and she let out a soft moan.
Their breaths mingled, hot and heavy. His lips were a hairsbreadth from hers, and his eyes were dark with hunger.
Camelia tried to gather her scattered thoughts. She had to stand her ground; she was not an animal who had to be tamed.
“I won’t give in to you that easily.Iwill decide when we will have an heir,” she asserted breathlessly.
