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“Good,” he said. “You deserve it.”
Another breath; his arms were still around her. Camilla smiled. “I do, don’t I? I deserve this.” She looked up at him. “I deserve this. I deserve to know that I was chosen. That the man who married me adored me above all others. I deserve a slow falling in love.”
He let out a little huff of laughter. “You know, the first time I told you that… I have to admit it may have been entirely self-serving on my part. I wanted you to believe it so that I wouldn’t have to fight you about getting an annulment.”
He was still holding her, and she couldn’t help but smile. “I know. I realized it at the time.”
“I wish I had been a little less self-serving then. That I’d thought a little more about you.”
She shook her head. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts. “I don’t. It never mattered to me that you were being self-serving. Most other men in your position wouldn’t have told me I deserved more than I had received. They would have told me I deserved less. That I was unmarriageable. Unwantable, even.” She inhaled and pulled away far enough to look him in the eye. “It says a lot about you, that your way of serving yourself was to tell me I was worthwhile.”
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“We’re all self-serving.” Camilla shrugged. “It’s just a matter of what we do to others in service of ourselves.”
“So.” Adrian’s hand stroked her hair. “You want an annulment?”
“I want a choice,” she clarified. “I want to choose and be chosen.”
“They’ll interview us,” Adrian said. “They’ll ask if we’ve ever had intercourse. And if either of us say that we did…that will most likely be the end of it. No annulment. You understand that?”
“I do.”
He tipped her chin up. “Are you asking me to lie under oath?”
Her heart was breaking. Her voice quivered. She looked up at him and told him the truth. “Yes?”
“If you want it, then I’ll do it. You know how bad I am at lying. I’ll practice. Grayson will have to help. But…” He hadn’t looked away from her. His finger was still on her chin. His thumb came up, brushing her lips.
“But what?”
“But nothing.” His arm tightened around her, and then he kissed her.
Her mind had not expected it. It went blank. Her body, though… Oh, her body had known. It had been wanting his lips against hers ever since he’d put his arms around her. No; ever since she’d seen him standing next to the mantel.
Her stupid body believed they belonged together, and before her mind could take the reins and demand that he give up this idiocy, her body rushed forward. Her hands crept around his neck. Her mouth opened to him. She pressed herself against him, giving herself into his kiss. Their tongues touched, gently at first, then with desperation.
The last remnants of anger faded into something softer. She was still stupid with hope.
This might be the last time they would kiss.
But he pulled away first, and when she brushed up on tiptoe to continue, he set his finger against her nose, stopping her. “That was also self-serving.”
She found herself blushing. “Your self-serving nature suits me.”
They stared at each other. His finger was still on her nose. He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling, and then…
Then he smiled.
“Lie about that, Cam,” he said. “Lie about the times I touched you. Lie about the night we shared together.”
His finger dragged down her nose and tapped her lips. He leaned down an inch until his nose brushed hers. She could feel the heat of him. Her heart beat heavily.
“Lie to whomever you want,” he said quietly. “Just don’t forget that it happened.”
No. His skin was imprinted on hers. She’d never be able to step into the morning sunlight without thinking of his smile. She let out a shaky breath and found herself grinning.
“I see how it is now. ‘I’m so sorry, Cam’ didn’t last very long, did it?”
His mouth tilted into a smile. “Well.” He sounded just a little too self-satisfied. “I am incredibly sorry about hurting you. I’m not in the least bit sorry about the rest of it. I would do all of the rest of that again as often as you wanted it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulled away from him. “I still want the annulment. I still want to be chosen.” Her heart pounded, and she hoped he understood.
“Well.” He exhaled. “You know what would be helpful if we were to obtain an annulment?”
Ah. Here it came. “The solicitor said that it would probably be best if we did not see each other until after the proceedings.” She didn’t want to. She had grown so used to seeing him every day. “He told me to tell you that if you had something to tell me, you should send it to him. We don’t want to make it look like…”
“Like we’re friends?” he asked.
“They’ll call it collusion. That’s what the solicitor said. I hate it. I hate it. I know your uncle wouldn’t acknowledge you, and if it will bother you too much, I’ll tell them no—”
“Hush.” He set a finger on her lips. “I asked you to do far more distasteful things for this damned annulment. I can manage silence. And that wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say that it would be very useful for us to have all that paperwork we obtained. The affidavits. The accounts. Everything that sets forth the motive in question.” Adrian gave her an easy smile.
“But you gave it all to your uncle, didn’t you?”
“Well.” He shrugged. “The affidavits will be easy enough to have redone. But it wouldn’t be hard for me to get the rest. I could walk into his office and take it.”
She stared at him. “Your uncle—you’d just walk into his office and steal the materials? I can’t ask you do that for me.”
He smiled. “You don’t have to ask.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. “You want us to have a choice, don’t you? Let me go get us one.”
* * *
Theresa was seated on her divan when Judith walked in.
There had been no time to explain what had happened since Camilla’s arrival; Judith had sent for solicitors and seamstresses. It wasn’t until now, with supper almost upon them, that she’d had a spare moment.
Theresa managed a little smile. “Happy birthday, Judith.”
Judith sat next to her. Her expression was… Very hard to read. Her eyes were narrowed; her eyebrows made angry dark lines.
“Camilla mentioned that you knew about Mr. Hunter just now. She seemed to think that we had been e
xpecting her. Theresa, what is going on? How did you get her direction? Why didn’t you tell me you were in contact with her?”
Oh. Theresa’s heart hurt just a little bit. She hadn’t managed to do it right after all. She was going to get scolded again. Everyone was always telling her to think before she did something rash, and she had thought this time. She had thought a great deal.
If by think before you act, people meant think what we want you to think, Theresa wished they would just say so. It would make everything so much easier.
Only now that she knew Judith was going to be angry could she see how she’d misunderstood. It was entirely one thing to obtain a present like gloves in secret. It was another to hunt down a missing sister, to withhold what she had learned when she knew Judith was so desperate for information.
Sisters were not gloves; she ought to have known.
In her defense, at the time it had all made complete sense to her.
“I didn’t have her direction,” Theresa said. “I wasn’t in contact with her. It was Mr. Hunter’s brother who delivered the letter.”
Judith just frowned at this. “But how did you know of Mr. Hunter?”
Theresa looked away. It hurt too much to try and look in Judith’s eyes, and never mind that it made her look guilty not to meet her eyes. She felt guilty.
“Because we found her wedding in the marriage registry?” The we slipped out before she had a chance to think it through, and then she really was in a tearing panic. She really hadn’t meant to get Benedict in trouble, too.
“The marriage registry?”
“The one at the General Register Office,” Theresa admitted. “I…may have lied to you about the whereabouts of…Benedict and myself...for the last handful of weeks?” She scrunched in on herself, feeling like one of her cats. She’d dragged in a mouse and had expected praise for her prowess as a hunter.
“And so you found Mr. Hunter at the General Register Office?” Judith’s voice was shaking. “I don’t understand.”
It was like they spoke two separate languages. No matter how hard Theresa tried to make herself understood, she always failed.
She glanced up. Judith was still staring at her; Theresa looked away.
