“How dare you suggest that she forget the memory of her mother!” he snapped.
Camelia flinched slightly but stood her ground, placing her hands on her hips. She looked magnificent as she towered over him with a familiar passionate fierceness.
He had witnessed her in this state before, back at Lempster Estate when Lord Montague wanted little Lady Margaret. It was this very fierceness that made him decide right then and there that she would be a perfect mother for Pamela.
Was I wrong?
“I will never encourage Pamela to forget her mother! If that’s what you think I’m capable of, then maybe you shouldn’t have married me.” Camelia’s voice shook with fury.
Raph rose slowly from his chair. “You’re meddling with things you don’t understand.”
“Planning a cake and lemon tarts is meddling now? God forbid the girl smiles on the day she was born!”
His eyes narrowed to slits.
“I, of all people, understand what it’s like for a girl to lose her mother,” Camelia continued, stepping closer to his desk. “But to be reminded of it continuously, and on the day when her life should be celebrated, is not fair! Pamela deserves some joy,Raph. She does not deserve to spend every birthday tiptoeing around grief.”
He rounded the desk in two strides and towered over her. “You think a few ribbons and songs will fix years of pain?”
“I think refusing her even one happy memory is cruel enough,” she shot back. “And I won’t let you do it.”
Raph’s voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “You’re not the one who decides what happens under this roof.”
Camelia lifted her chin defiantly. “Then try stopping me. Pamela’s birthdaywillbe celebrated. My sisters and I will see to it. There will be cake, music, and every ridiculous tradition we can think of. You can join us, or you can sulk in your study. I don’t give a damn which!”
“A birthday celebration is unheard of, Camelia! What do you plan to do?” he scolded.
But Camelia simply shoved past him.
In one fluid motion, Raph grabbed her arm before she could escape and spun her around. She braced herself on his desk as he stood behind her.
Pressing his body against hers, he brushed strands of hair from her neck and felt her shiver under his touch. His hand slid to her waist, and he held her there, fingers pressing just enough toremind her who held the power. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, coaxing a small moan from her.
He leaned in and whispered, “Go ahead with your little party.” Her body was hot against his, and he felt her arch into him. “Laugh, sing, and stuff yourself full of lemon tarts.”
His hands roamed over her corset, and to his satisfaction, her breathing slowly grew ragged and uneven.
“But when the candles are blown out, and the house is quiet… I have a very special lesson planned just for you.”
Raph let her go, ignoring the flush on her skin and how his own body reacted to her closeness.
Camelia took a moment to compose herself, keeping her back to him. Then, she cleared her throat and turned around slowly. Her defiance was still evident in her sparkling eyes.
She walked, head held up with what little pride she had left, and before she passed him, she hissed, “I will gladly accept yourlesson, Your Grace.”
CHAPTER 18
“You truly do have the most beautiful garden in London!” Margaret sighed in admiration.
Camelia and her sisters sat in the sunlit glasshouse that was located in the middle of the grand Brentmere garden. When she discovered the abandoned building, she immediately had it restored, and it quickly became her favorite place to escape to.
The ladies sat around a wooden table adorned with delicate porcelain dishes and a centerpiece of vibrant roses.
Her sisters had arrived that morning, and their presence was a soothing balm to her restless heart. Their soft voices filled the air as they shared a lunch of roasted pheasant and fresh bread. But Camelia’s mind drifted as she recounted her time at Brentmere Manor.
“Camelia?” She was so lost in her thoughts that she missed the entire conversation.
“I beg your pardon, Iris. What were we discussing?”
