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“Would you like me to accompany you to visit them?”
She turned to look at him for a long moment. A faint flush spread across her cheeks.
He wondered what she was thinking. Then he wondered what he was thinking. Her sister was a marchioness. The woman he was thinking of as simply ‘Camilla’ was the daughter of an earl. And yes; his mother had been the daughter of a duke.
That only meant that he knew the set. He knew his own uncle, refusing to acknowledge his nephews, not even speaking his own sister’s name in polite company, no matter how he professed his love in private.
He’d met Camilla after she’d been out of that milieu for years.
They’d been in his domain these last weeks. He hadn’t forgotten the reality of the matter; he never let himself forget reality. But he was used to the notion of Camilla not having a family.
“Never mind.” He looked away. “I only just now realized how that would look.”
“I was just trying to imagine how I would introduce you,” she told him. “‘Judith, this is Mr. Adrian Hunter; we used to be married.’”
“It does sound absurd.”
“‘Now,’” Camilla said, “‘we are friends.’”
He looked over at her.
“That is what I would say,” Camilla said. “Maybe I would add something like this: ‘There are very few people I trust in the world; he is one of them.’ I do not know what she would say to that.”
Adrian looked over at her. He licked his lips. “Cam. You do realize that I’m black?”
“I had noticed.” She swallowed and looked at him. “I cannot pretend I know how my sister will react. I have not spoken with her once in the last nine years. I do know that she…” Her voice faltered. “I know that the last time we talked, she told me that I’d made my choice. That I deserved to never be loved, if I was willing to give it up for the chance at pretty gowns.”
“Camilla.”
Camilla looked away. “And you told me I deserved it. That I deserved to be chosen. That someone would love me for who I was. I do not know what my sister will say, but I won’t stand for her telling me that you don’t deserve love. She is clearly not an expert in who is deserving.” Camilla shook her head.
They were sitting so close and yet so far away. The space between them seemed like a vast cavern. Her skirts were eight inches from his shoes. Adrian leaned forward a little, and—he didn’t know if it was the movement of the train, or the sway of her body—but she mirrored him, coming closer.
“If we can’t get an annulment, Cam…”
He could see the smooth column of her throat contract.
He wanted to give her freedom first. “I wouldn’t impose on you, Cam. We could live separately. I wouldn’t have expectations. It wouldn’t be fair under the circumstances.”
Her cheeks flushed even pinker. Her eyes dipped to the floor, but only for a second. Then she looked up, her eyes liquid.
“You could…” Her voice trailed off. She bit her lip and inhaled. “You could expect, if you wanted.”
“Could I?” He leaned in another inch, lowered his voice. “What could I expect?”
That flush painted her cheeks a dark red. “Must I say it? I’d give you anything you wanted, Adrian. You would just have to want it. The more you wanted from me, the happier I would be.”
He could not help himself. He reached out and took hold of her hands.
Her breath hissed out, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she ran one fingertip around the edge of his glove, brushing his wrist. Her eyes, when she looked at him, glowed like stars.
“And if I already wanted?” he asked.
She didn’t say anything. Her fingers traced a circle around his wrist. She bent her head, just enough to press a kiss into his palm.
He leaned forward, even further, reaching—
“Adrian,” she said in a soft voice. “We shouldn’t. If we’re seen like this, you know what they’ll say. We have one chance to obtain an annulment. We mustn’t ruin it.”
Mustn’t we? He didn’t say that aloud, and she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, she shut her eyes, turned his hand over, and pressed a kiss to the top of his wrist.
“Well.” He didn’t pull away. “Let’s talk about what our ruin should look like when we know what our options are.”
* * *
Let’s talk about what our ruin should look like.
Camilla could not get his words out of her mind, not as he brought her to a home on a side-street near their destination, not after he introduced her to the housekeeper who had aired the sheets and removed the covers from the furniture in preparation for their arrival.
A maid showed Camilla to her room.
Let’s talk about what our ruin should look like. She could still feel the warmth of his wrist against her fingertips even though they were no longer touching.
She washed and changed, then came down to find Adrian sitting before a plate of cold cheeses and meats.
“Make yourself at home,” Adrian said. “The place is my mother’s. I believe she inherited it from a great-aunt. It was leased for years, but the tenants went back to America, and we haven’t found new ones yet.”
Camilla nodded.
“There’s no point delaying,” Adrian said. “I’m going to bring our evidence to my uncle. I’m going to hold him to his promise—that he would help us with the annulment once I found evidence incriminating Lassiter.”
She looked over at him.
His eyes met hers. “It’s precisely as I said. Once we know that we can make a choice, we can decide what the choice will be. Annulment or…”
There was an or. He was considering an or. Her heart beat too swiftly in her chest and she could not contain her joy.
But he didn’t specify what that or would be. He left to go speak to his uncle.
She was left in the house with nothing to do but wander the rooms and imagine the or that might await.
The space here had none of the warmth of his cottage back in Harvil; there were fancy carpets underfoot and elegant tables of stained mahogany. The plates were matched china—no amusing mistakes here. Her stomach knotted in nervous tension.
She had never met Adrian’s uncle; she couldn’t even imagine what the room they would meet in would look like. For his sake, she wanted it to go well.
And for hers.
She wanted. She wanted—not the annulment, but him. She wanted to be chosen. She wanted someone to want her. She wanted—
The sound of the front door opening interrupted her reverie. She almost dropped the book she’d unthinkingly taken from the library shelf. It took a moment to set it on the table with unsure hands. Another moment to take a deep breath.
Her nerves mounted to a flutter in her belly. She reached for her composure and did her level best to walk to him, rather than run.
She failed.
She came to a skidding halt in the front room. A man stood there, handing off his coat and hat to the housekeeper with a, “Thanks, Genevieve.”
He was black like Adrian. He was maybe a few inches taller than her not-really husband. His hair was in short curls; he wore spectacles. He was adjusting his cuffs as she came skittering into the room.
He looked over at her.
Camilla felt her heart hammering in her chest, nerves and tension reasserting themselves as she stopped short in front of him.
He didn’t seem surprised to see her, and the housekeeper seemed to recognize him, too. He took a step closer.
“Miss Camilla Worth, I take it?”
It had been years since she had been called by that name. It brought back memories—strange, tangled memories. Laughing with Judith and trying on bracelets far beyond their ages. Judith saying, if you don’t want to be loved, we don’t want to love you.
Her breath stopped, then skipped, then stopped again.
“Yes?” Her heart seemed to not function properly. Her head felt far too light.
The corner of his mouth
ticked up. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I’m Captain Grayson Hunter.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Adrian’s brother. Of course she had to meet him under these dreadful circumstances, when she was nervous and scared and full of hope.
She struggled and somehow found the power of speech. “Mr. Hunter,” she managed. “How…nice to meet you. I am…” No, what was she doing, introducing herself? He already knew who she was. He’d said it.
“Ah, that’s right.” He considered her. “I shouldn’t have called you Worth, should I? It’s Camilla Hunter, now. Welcome to the family.” He wasn’t exactly asking a question.
“No,” she heard herself say. “Adrian has been most insistent on that point. If we are to get an annulment, we must not hold ourselves out as married.”
“Ah.” He touched his fingers together. “How interesting. So you’re getting an annulment, then?”
