Camelia smiled brightly at him. “Always, Your Grace.”
Raph ignored her witty remark and returned to his tasks for the day. But Camelia’s smile lingered in his mind like a warning bell.
She’s plotting something.
He shook his head, forcing the thought out and returning his focus to his duties. He crossed to his desk; the scent of herlavender perfume still haunted the room as he sat down. Papers were strewn before him, and an image of Camelia’s erect nipples through the thin fabric of her nightgown flashed into his mind.
“Focus, damn it,” he muttered to himself, picking up a ledger.
But his thoughts betrayed him, drifting to Camelia, the way her lips had trembled under his and how her skin tasted on the tip of his tongue.
His grip tightened on the quill, blotting the page with ink.
She’s a distraction I can’t afford, not until Pamela’s secure.
Yet that smile niggled at him, like a whisper of rebellion.
I need to see what she’s doing with Pamela.
He sighed and stood back up, abandoning his work. His boots thudded as he strode towards the drawing room, where Camelia and Pamela were scheduled for their embroidery lesson.
Raph pushed open the door, expecting to find them at the table, Pamela practicing her needlework as they chatted politely. But the room was empty, the chairs untouched, and the air still.
His brow furrowed, and a mix of irritation and intrigue bloomed within him.
Where the devil are they?
“Camelia!” he roared as he stomped through the corridor, checking the library and the morning room. But there was no sign of them.
“Mrs. Weber!” He heard the hurried footsteps of Camelia’s maid.
Mrs. Weber rounded the corner breathlessly. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Where are they?”
“Your Grace?”
“The Duchess and Lady Pamela!”
“Oh, th-they were seen in the garden, Your Grace.”
“Why the bloody hell are they there?”
“I’m not sure. I will send for them immediate?—”
“No! I will get them myself.”
She’s taken Pamela somewhere, ignoring my orders. Damn her, she’s testing me!
Raph seethed.
But where would she go? Why the gardens at this time?
He headed outside, the crisp morning air hitting him as he scanned the sprawling gardens, their roses and hedges bathed in sunlight, but there was no sign of them nearby.
“Camelia!” he called again, his tone laced with warning.
He stopped by the fountain, his hands on his hips.
