I have to talk to him. Now.
But Camelia lingered a little longer, her hand still stroking Pamela’s hair, making sure that the girl was truly asleep.
She’s calm now, but this can’t go on.
She rose slowly, her resolve hardening. Before she left, she tucked Pamela in and planted a soft kiss on her temple. The nightmare seemed to have ended. She picked up her lantern; its flame was steady and dim as she left Pamela’s room.
The corridor felt colder, and the manor’s grandeur was oppressive. She made her way to Raph’s chamber with quick steps. She suspected that he would be unhappy about her unannounced visit, but she did not care. This was about Pamela.
Her body still hummed with the memory of their heated encounters. His hands on her, his warnings and promises, made her feel alive. But tonight was about the truth, not passion.
She reached his door, her heart pounding, and knocked firmly. The sound was sharp in the quiet. She knocked again, louder this time, but there was no response.
Camelia was done with his secrets. She cracked open the door and found his chamber empty and seemingly untouched.
“Raph?” she called out, but there was no reply.
Where did he go?
Her thoughts churned, restless from their heated exchange in the library, where his words had left her grasping for more answers to more questions. Their tussle in the kitchen only deepened her confusion, stirring a whirlwind of questions about his desires and her own.
Now, standing in his dimly lit chambers, forbidden territory, her lantern’s flickering flame mirrored the nervous anticipation coursing through her as she awaited his return. She imagined him disciplining her for intruding, and her heart fluttered in response.
Suddenly thirsty, Camelia gulped and paced nervously, but thoughts of Raph made her excited and long for anotherlesson. On his desk, she spotted a leather-bound book, but she clasped her hands in front of her.
I will not snoop!
But when the minutes dragged by, she gave in to temptation. She unhooked the leather strap and opened it carefully. It was a poetry book. Camelia found a marked page where a poem was neatly underlined.
In a forest glade where shadows dance,
A doe, with eyes of trembling trance,
Before the hunter’s gaze does stand,
Her heart a captive to his hand?—
Camelia’s heart pounded as she shut the book and heard Raph’s booted steps approaching. She placed it back on his desk and steadied her hands and thoughts. Her nightgown clung to her skin the way she wished he would, and the poem stuck with her thoughts.
I’m here to speak about Pamela.
The door finally opened, and Raph stepped in. His dark coat was slightly wrinkled, and his eyes were sharp but weary. The scent of brandy and cloying perfume hit her like a slap, and her stomach twisted.
“Raph, where have you been?” she demanded, her hands clenching at her sides. The floral scent grew stronger as he walked further into the room. “And what is that smell?”
Her anger flared, but Raph’s lips curled into a faint smirk.
“I was out, Duchess. With an old friend. Why? Does the thought of me elsewhere trouble you?” He walked casually past her and removed his coat. “And what are you doing here, when I clearly stated that you are not allowed in my chambers?”
Camelia felt her cheeks flush, but she turned around and spoke in a firm voice. “I’ve been waiting hours to talk about Pamela,only to have you stumble in, smelling of drink and… and some woman’s perfume! Have you been neglecting your duties to carouse instead?”
He eyed her narrowly.
Can he sense my jealousy?
“That’s a bold accusation, Camelia. What else am I neglecting? Pamela? The estate? Or perhaps… you?”
Her breath hitched, and she turned away from him so he wouldn’t read her like an open book.
