“Do behave,” he said simply.
“I always behave.” She feigned insult.
“No stirring trouble in the marketplace with your sisters, please. I expect you back with gowns and not gossip.”
I want to protect them both, but I’ll give them this day of freedom.
Raph had thought about trailing along. But instead, he had instructed his driver to keep an eye on them.
Camelia smiled wickedly at him. “Oh, Raph, where’s the fun in that?”
He gave her a warning glare.
“But I’ll keep the gossip to a minimum, only if you promise you’ll save a dance for me at the ball?”
Raph’s throat tightened, his thoughts consumed by her in a ball gown, her curves brushing against him on the dance floor.
A dance with her will drive me to madness.
“I’ll save a dance for you, Duchess. Now, go, both of you. The carriage is waiting.”
Pamela returned. “I’m ready!”
Camelia rose and kept her gaze on Raph. “We’ll be back with gowns to make you proud, Your Grace. And maybe a surprise or two.”
Raph’s eyes followed them, his heart pounding with every step they took.
She’s trouble.
“No surprises, Camelia,” he reminded her. “Just come back in one piece.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She smiled sweetly and curtsied.
Camelia and Pamela stepped out of the quiet, peaceful carriage and into the bustling marketplace. The air was alive with the chatter of vendors and the scent of fresh bread and lavender.
Pamela walked beside her, her curls bouncing under her bonnet, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Pamela, you’re practically glowing! And what a beautiful sight it is.” Camelia admired the girl with motherly pride.
The carriage ride from Brentmere had been filled with Pamela’s eager questions about gowns, and Camelia’s heart swelled at the chance to share this day with her.
“Look, Pamela,” she said brightly, “there’s Iris and Margaret by the flower stall. Are you ready to meet my sisters?”
“Yes, Camelia. Although I am nervous?—”
“There’s no need for that. I told you they would love you!”
Margaret spotted them and waved inelegantly.
Camelia laughed, guiding Pamela through the crowd. “And they’ll do more than help. They’ll let you know what hairstyle would suit the gown and how much frill it should have. It will be fun, you’ll see.”
Iris stood silently at a stall. She was tall and elegant in a rose-colored gown, while Margaret continued to wave at them like a maniac.
“Margaret, you can stop waving. They spotted you already, for goodness’ sake!” Iris chided.
“Camelia! Pamela! You’ve finally escaped from the Brentmere fortress!” Margaret ignored Iris’s scolding and turned to Pamela. “Oh, you’re a darling!” She pounced on Pamela, her voice like rapid-fire as she linked arms with her.
Pamela was at a loss for words, but she smiled politely at her sisters.
