“Hmm…” Camelia tapped the tip of her chin with her finger as if in deep thought. “What do you do when you don’t want to think anymore? When the weight of your duties feels too heavy?”
He arched an eyebrow, surprised by her question.
“I read,” he said plainly. “It… quiets my mind.”
Camelia pouted.
“You seem disappointed, little flower.”
“I’m not. I just should have guessed that answer, since you’re in the library at this hour.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid that the questions you truly want to ask me cannot be answered.” He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers before it traveled to her breasts and lingered. “The more you dig, the more afraid you would be of me.”
“How do you know what answers I truly want from you?” She ignored the flutter in her stomach.
His eyes slid over as they did in the alley when she kissed him. Camelia wanted to cover herself, but she enjoyed being admired by him.
“I know that you want the truth, Camelia. About my past and my present. But I cannot share it with you.”
“I will give it time.”
“Not now. Not ever.”
They sat in a tense silence for a few moments.
“And what do you do when your…thoughtskeep you awake?” he asked.
She tilted her head. Her robe fell off her shoulder, and she felt the cool night air brush against her exposed skin, hardening her nipples even further. The Duke’s breath caught, and she tried not to revel in his reaction.
“I walk,” she answered calmly. “I enjoy long strolls to clear my head.”
“That is a dangerous sport.”
Camelia looked at him, stunned. “Walking?”
“Yes.”
“How on earth is that dangerous?”
“Well, it depends on where or who you’re walking with.”
The last time Camelia walked to ‘clear her head,’ she ended up in an alley.
“That is true. I suppose I prefer gardens. The air and the blooms soothe me.”
He nodded. “That’s safe enough. You did well with the glasshouse in the garden. It’s thriving under your care.”
“I love that glasshouse. It’s like a little Eden, but I don’t understand why it was left to nature’s mercy for so long. It’s too beautiful to neglect.”
The Duke’s expression tightened briefly. “It was my mother’s. She tended it… before.” He paused, then met her gaze. “You’ve brought it back to life.”
Camelia sensed the weight behind his words. “I’m glad I could.”
“You’re full of surprises, little flower. Keep tending that garden, and I might let you wander without a schedule… occasionally.”
She leaned forward. “Occasionally? How generous of you, Your Grace. Shall I beg for more freedom, or will you grant it if I simply do a good job?”
“Grant it? No, I much rather call it a reward.”
