“Yes!”
“Then be there for her, but don’t push me to do things I simply cannot do. Or else there will be consequences.”
Camelia’s mouth went dry as she thought about the possible consequences.
“I am there for her, Raph. But she needs you, too. You are her father, no matter what. Stop hiding behind your walls and let her see you.”
Raph’s gaze held hers, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his mask.
“No,” he said simply and turned away from her. “Go back to bed, Duchess. I’m here, Pamela’s safe now.”
Camelia bit her tongue in an attempt to hold back a torrent of words, but she failed. “You’re barely involved in Pamela’s life or mine. She’s slipping away, and we decline every social invitation, and—and you’ve made no effort to produce an heir! Am I supposed to sit quietly while you ignore your duty?”
Raph stilled
Heir? Why did I bring that up?
He turned and approached her slowly, and she instinctively backed away until her thighs hit the edge of his bed. She plopped down on the soft mattress while he continued to loom over her.
“Little flower, I thought you might need more time after our last lesson. Your body was trembling under my hand, and you were exhausted. Or did I misjudge your recovery time?” Raph touched the tip of her chin.
Her face burned, memories of his slaps and kisses flooding her mind again, but she refused to let him distract her.
“Don’t change the subject, Raph. You need to be more involved with Pamela, with us. If you have time for courtesans, you have time for your family!”
“Courtesans?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Yes, that’s the only explanation for the horrible smell clinging to you!”
Raph let out a dark, teasing chuckle and sat heavily beside her on the large bed. His thigh brushed against hers, and she tried her best to ignore the contact.
“You’re arguing about heirs and courtesans. Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“Is there anythingyouwish to tellme, Raph?” she shot back.
“Are you jealous, little flower?”
“No!” Camelia responded too quickly, betraying her effort to stay composed.
Raph chuckled again, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Wendy did approach me tonight?—”
“Wendy?” Camelia cut in. Her anger surfaced despite her attempt to sound indifferent.
Wendy? So familiar, so casual.
She gritted her teeth.
“Yes, Wendy,” he said, leaning closer. “She’s a courtesan.”
Camelia averted her eyes, staring at the embroidered bedspread to hide her hurt. “Oh, I see.”
“What is the problem?”
“Did you… want her?”
“No.”
“Did you have her?”
