Iris and Margaret exchanged looks.
“We were admiring your grand gardens,” Margaret said slowly, her tone deliberately patient, as though addressing a child. “And we asked how you’ve found life as a duchess so far.”
“It’s been… challenging,” Camelia admitted as she set down her fork. “Brentmere is grand, but it’s a maze of rules. Raph—His Grace is so particular, and Lady Pamela… she’s like a shadow, slowly slipping away from me. Although we did make some progress.”
Iris, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward, her eyes sharp with concern. “How is the Duke particular? Is he unkind to you, Camelia?”
“No, he’s not unkind,” Camelia said quickly, her cheeks warming at the memory of the last time they were alone. His hands on her waist and the threat of a lesson whispered in her ears. “Just… commanding. He’s set a rigid schedule of etiquette lessons for Lady Pamela and household duties for me. We only gather at breakfast and dinner, and even then, it’s like pulling teeth to get either of them to speak.”
“Commanding, you say? Oh, I bet he’s commanding in all sorts of ways. Does he sweep you into his arms at night, whispering orders in that deep, ducal voice of his?” Margaret teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Camelia’s face flushed crimson, her heart stuttering.
God, if only she knew how his voice alone makes my body react.
“Actually, we haven’t… consummated the marriage yet.”
A collective gasp escaped her sisters, their forks clattering against their plates.
Iris’s brow furrowed. “Not at all? Camelia, it’s been weeks!”
Margaret leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s he waiting for? Is he too busy brooding to bed his wife? Or are you the one holding out, saving yourself for some grand romantic moment?”
Camelia laughed despite her embarrassment. “It’s not like that! He’s busy with estate matters, and I’ve been trying to follow his rules and adapt to this… new life. But my relationship with Lady Pamela is truly what’s troubling me. At first, she told me I’ll never be her mother, and I couldn’t help but feel that I’m failing her. That was until I suggested celebrating her birthday. But I am still struggling, and I don’t know how to reach her.”
Iris reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “You’re not failing, Camelia. You’ve always had a nurturing nature. Lady Pamela is just guarded. Give her some time.”
Camelia sighed. “If only the schedule His Grace has set left room. It’s all ‘etiquette at nine, correspondence at noon.’ I triedto coax Pamela into sneaking into the glasshouse once, but she looked absolutely appalled! I believe she only truly spoke to me yesterday when she said she likes poetry, but it’s like I’m climbing mountains for a single word.”
“Poetry’s a start! Maybe you should read her some verses to loosen her up. As for the Duke, maybe he needs a little scandal to loosen him up, too. Sneak into his chamber in nothing but a shift and see how long he stays ‘busy.’” Margaret winked at her.
“Margaret, you’re young and have no inkling about marital matters,” Camelia chided, but not without a smile.
The thought of sneaking into Raph’s chamber was maddeningly tempting.
“I wouldn’t know where to begin with him. He’s so… intense,” she added.
Iris’s gaze softened. “Intense or not, the Duke chose you, Camelia. You’re his Duchess. You’ll find a way to reach both him and Pamela. You’re stronger than you know, and as you said, you did make a little progress.”
“Yes, Camelia, and we’ll be here to help you along the way!” Margaret vowed.
Camelia’s throat tightened; her sisters’ faith warmed her. “I hope you’re right. I miss you both so much already. Brentmere feels so… cold without you.”
“We’ll visit often.” Iris squeezed her hand again. “And we’ll continue writing.”
“Every day,” Camelia said, managing a smile. “Even if it’s just to complain.”
“Don’t keep us waiting too long for details. Especially about Pamela’s birthday.” Margaret pouted.
“I won’t, Margaret. I am sure that you’ll take full charge of that.”
“Of course! And we absolutely have to get Pamela a new dress for the occasion.”
“When last have we made a trip to Madame Lefèvre’s shop?” Iris asked.
The sisters remained silent as they all thought about that.
“It’s been ages!” Camelia finally blurted.
