A Diamond for a Duke : Book 4: Camellia: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet)

by Arietta Richmond

  “Oh well done, Bella! Since her true status as Marquise de Beaumarais was revealed, she has taken only one or two new clients herself, although she has retained management of her business, much to the horror of many of the high sticklers of the ton. Blackwater – you must pay whatever the cost might be – this is a coup which will make your sisters the envy of every young woman, as well as by far enhancing their beauty.”

  Blackwater met her eyes, and for a moment, it was as if no-one else existed. A small shiver ran through Camellia – his gaze was so very intense. She licked her lips, and drew in a sharp breath. He looked away slightly, and the sounds of the ballroom rushed back in, disorienting after that stillness.

  “I see. Then I must thank you again, although I am sure that my man of business will not be happy with the effect on my finances.”

  Camellia shook her head at his expression, which was an exaggerated impression of woefulness. The man was proving to have a surprising sense of humour, for one who had appeared so dour and aloof before.

  “I am quite sure that you will manage to cope, Blackwater.”

  “So am I, Lady Camellia, although I may take the opportunity to tease my sisters about it, just a little.”

  The orchestra chose that moment to strike up for the first set, and Camellia looked around, knowing that her mother was likely to be displeased that she had not yet been asked to dance. As expected, the Duchess was moving in her direction. She sighed, and turned back.

  “My mother approaches, no doubt to berate me for not yet having found a dance partner.”

  Blackwater looked at her, and for a moment the oddest expression crossed his face, as if he felt some conflicting emotions. Then he smiled, and bowed extravagantly before her.

  “But you have, Lady Camellia, if you will do me the honour?”

  He offered his arm, and she placed her hand upon it, startled into silence.

  He led her towards where the couples were forming up, and she felt a deep satisfaction at the stunned look on her mother’s face as they passed her.

  Chapter Six

  Damien was convinced that he had lost his mind, even as the words had escaped his lips. He was here to make alliances for his sisters’ benefit, not to flirt and dance! Although… Lady Camellia was assisting his sisters, so perhaps…

  She took his arm, and he led her to the area set aside for dancing, without another word said. Throughout the dance, they said little, but he found that not at all uncomfortable, and she seemed to feel the same, thankfully. Each time the dance brought them back together, the touch of her hand sent a frisson of warmth through him, and he was caught, drowning in her warm brown eyes, so full of kindness.

  It was the most confusing experience of his life.

  Once the music ended, he escorted her back to her family and, sternly chastising himself for having lost focus on his purpose, then set about charming the older ladies of the ton, in the hope that they would view his sisters favourably.

  And so it went for the next few social occasions.

  He danced with Lady Camellia, and spoke with her, and the Duchess of Hartswood, then, when Lady Camellia’s presence became too dizzying, he charmed everyone he could, as well as spending time with a wide range of men, all in preparation for the day that his sisters first stepped into a ballroom.

  Within the week, he was informed that his sisters’ visit to the modiste would occur the following day. He thanked the Duchess for her assistance with that matter, again, and silently thanked God that he did not have to deal with such things directly, himself.

  That night, as so many others recently, he dreamed odd dreams – dreams where Lady Camellia featured heavily, amidst swirling crowds of women in jewel toned gowns in endless ballrooms.

  <<<>>>

  Bella’s carriage drew up before Blackwater House, and within a few minutes, Blackwater was escorting his sisters down the steps of the house, and to the carriage door. Camellia watched him, as always, seemingly unable to draw her eyes away from the man.

  Ladies Georgette and Marie were obviously excited, almost rushing towards them, whilst Blackwater proceeded at a far more sedate pace. Camellia was almost certain that he was repressing a smile at his sisters’ enthusiasm. She wondered, yet again, at the conundrum the man presented – one minute warm and charming, the next aloof and cold. Part of her craved, desperately, to unravel that mystery.

  “Good day, Your Grace, Lady Camellia. Thank you so much for arranging the modiste for us!”

  Lady Georgette smiled happily as she stepped up into the carriage, followed by her sister. Blackwater leant in through the door for a moment, and Camellia, who was seated right beside that door, found herself bare inches from him. The scent of him suddenly surrounded her, and her heart beat far faster than normal, the memory of that dance coming back to her. He went on to speak, seemingly utterly oblivious to the effect that he had upon her.

  “Yes, thank you indeed. But… please, sisters, do try not to spend my entire fortune!”

  Lady Marie gave a soft laugh.

  “I do not think that we could quite manage that, Blackwater, unless you have not told us the truth of our situation!”

  He gave her a smile, and a chuckle, shaking his head.

  “I have not lied, Marie, but still – I have been told quite terrifying tales of the prices charged by a certain modiste.”

  “Which prices are worth it. You will understand, when you see the gowns that she creates for your sisters.”

  Bella met his gaze, and he gave a small half bow where he stood.

  “Then I must trust in your judgement, Your Grace. I will let you be on your way, and go back to my correspondence.”

  He stepped back, and bowed, then closed the door upon them. A footman put up the steps, and the carriage began to move. Camellia’s eyes, however, followed Blackwater until he disappeared from sight.

  The girls chattered excitedly as the carriage rumbled over the cobblestoned streets and, for a moment, Camellia felt old and jaded. Once, she had been that excited about new gowns – now, whilst she could not deny taking pleasure in quality attire, it had come to seem far less important than taking pleasure in investing in those who most needed it, in ways which set them up for a better future.

  Soon, the carriage drew up at the corner of a wide avenue, thronged with shoppers, all obviously people of wealth. The intersecting street was narrower, but no less busy, and the shop which they sought lay a short distance down from the corner. The footman hopped down from the rear of the carriage, opened the door and let down the steps.

  Once they were all standing on the pavement, and the door was closed again, Bella looked up to her coachman.

  “Johnson, I expect that we will be a few hours.”

  “Very good, Your Grace. I will take the carriage to the Bessington Arms, and arrange to have the horses and carriage stay in their yard. Once its closer to time, I will come back past here, every quarter of the hour or so, so that I can collect you when you are ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  They turned as the carriage moved off, and slipped through the busy people into the side street, the footman at their heels. Around them, members of the ton went about their business – groups of ladies together, accompanied by servants, in the main. Camellia noticed, after a moment, that many of those ladies were turning to observe them – and whispering… Were they gossiping about Blackwater’s sisters?

  Or about herself and Bella? The former seemed, sadly, more likely, but it disturbed her. Those women were not exactly discreet about their observation either, for, before they reached the door of Madame Beaumarais’ shop, Lady Georgette and Lady Marie had noticed, and were casting worried glances about them.

  Camellia put a gentle hand on Lady Georgette’s arm, indicating the door of the shop, and Lady Georgette stepped in with an expression of relief, as their footman held the door open. Once the door had closed behind them Lady Georgette leant close to Camellia, and whispered.

  “Were
they all talking about us? I know that there has been some gossip about our family, but I did not realise…”

  “I suspect that they were, but I confess, I do not know why. Some people will gossip about anything, given the slightest encouragement – and your brother intrigues them.”

  Lady Georgette did not look entirely reassured, and Camellia could not blame her – she was, herself, quite sure that the passers-by had been whispering about the girls, that, somehow, the gossip about the revelation at the old Duke’s Will reading had been expanded and distorted in some manner, to touch upon the girls as well. She was saved from immediately needing to converse further on the matter, as a young woman appeared from a curtain at the back of the small entryway, and curtseyed, smiling broadly at Bella.

  “Your Grace, Madame has everything in readiness, if you will follow me?”

  The woman waved towards another curtain, and ushered them through, then up a narrow flight of stairs.

  Camellia looked around with interest as they were then shown past a number of rooms where various seamstresses spoke with clients, and through another curtain towards the rear of the building. She had never been here before – her father had flatly refused to allow his daughters to seek gowns from Madame Beaumarais, given that, with seven daughters, he rightly feared the likely expense.

  But Bella knew Madame personally, as the result of a series of events in which Bella’s brother had helped in the revelation of Madame’s true identity, and her reunion with her husband after four long years apart. They stepped into a delightful room, one wall of which featured large windows, with a view out over London’s lightly snow dusted rooftops, and the opposite wall of which was lined with racks and racks of shimmering bolts of fabric, in every colour imaginable. From a door to one side, a small woman came bustling out.

  She had improbably blonde hair, which curled about her face in irrepressible tendrils, small dark eyes, which seemed to capture the light and glitter, and a figure that any woman would envy.

  “Bonjour, ma belle Bella! So, you have brought me a new challenge, non? Two young ladies who must outshine every other woman this Season?”

  “I have!” Bella turned to indicate Lady Georgette and Lady Marie, “Madame, may I introduce Lady Georgette Falton and Lady Marie Falton, the young ladies I spoke of. And this is Lady Camellia Gardenbrook, daughter of the Duke of Elbury, and my closest friend. This, ladies, is Colette, the Marquise de Beaumarais, known here in her business simply as Madame, who I also have the honour to call friend.”

  They all curtsied to the Marquise, who waved her hands in a most gallic fashion, with a soft laugh.

  “My title does not exist, here. Here I am only a modiste. Here I can indulge in making beautiful women more beautiful.” She considered them for a moment, and a small frown crossed her brow. “I am only to create gowns for two ladies? Not for Lady Camellia also?”

  Bella glanced at Camellia, knowing full well just how much Camellia had always wanted a gown by Madame Beaumarais.

  “That is correct, Madame. Lady Camellia, being one of seven sisters, dare not acquire a gown from you, or all of her sisters will want the same, and her father will expire of an apoplexy at the mere thought of the cost.”

  Camellia closed her eyes for a few seconds, almost embarrassed. It was so typical of Bella to simply blurt out the truth of it. But it was done, and all she could do was nod in acknowledgement of Bella’s words.

  “Ah! So sad! If Lady Camellia is an indication of what her sisters are like, I could most enjoy dressing all of them.” Madame turned to address Camellia directly. “Your father, he could not be… persuaded?”

  “Alas, Madame, were that possible, you would have found us all on your doorstep two years or more ago, before your true station in life was revealed.”

  “I see. Perhaps, in the future, there is hope, non? Or you might find a husband who is more… generous?”

  Camellia laughed, charmed by the woman, but shook her head.

  “My mother shares your hope that I will find a husband soon. I am not so sure.”

  Madame waved a hand again, smiling.

  “Do not doubt. You are beautiful, and kind, I can see – men are foolish if they cannot see your value – but one will come along, when you least expect it, and you will discover love, I am sure.”

  Camellia felt a flush of pleasure – she had been called beautiful before, but this woman was a connoisseur of such things, by her trade – for it was the work of a modiste to make a woman truly shine. Madame turned back to Lady Georgette and Lady Marie, fixing them with that assessing gaze. As she considered, making them fidget a little under that look, Bella spoke again.

  “Madame, these ladies will need an entire wardrobe, to suit all activities during the Season, for their current gowns are either two years out of date, and no longer fit ideally, or are in mourning colours. May we trust to your talent for transformation to make them shine as they have never thought that they could?”

  “Mais oui, certainement. Ladies, you will come this way please – we must measure every part of you, and then we will look at fabrics and colours, to best enhance your natural beauties.”

  After that, they all became absorbed into the planning, and somehow, three hours passed, before all had been arranged. Camellia wished, so very much, that she might have such gowns as were being designed for Georgette and Marie, but still, even watching Madame work on theirs was a delight.

  When it was done, and Madame waved them off, cheerfully demanding that they return in a few days for some initial fittings, both Lady Georgette and Lady Marie looked rather dazed by the whole experience. Camellia could not blame them, for Madame Beaumarais was a forceful personality indeed.

  They stepped out into the street, and made their way towards the main thoroughfare. Camellia was pleased to note that the current population of those shopping seemed less aware of who they were, and less inclined to point and whisper. They reached the corner without incident, and with apparently perfect timing, for the carriage was just coming along the street. It drew up before them and, as the footman alighted and set about opening the door and letting the steps down, a roughly clothed urchin ran up to them, ducking through the passing people. At first, Camellia thought that the child might be a pickpocket, and clutched her reticule tightly, eyeing him, but rather than try to take anything, the child simply paused but a moment beside Lady Georgette, and thrust a somewhat crushed missive into her hands, before running off again.

  “What…?”

  But the boy was gone.

  They stepped up into the carriage, and settled onto the well-padded seats, all curiously eyeing the crumpled paper. By unspoken accord, they waited until the door was closed and the carriage had begun to move, before a word was said. Lady Marie was the first to speak.

  “Georgette… what is it? What did that boy give you?”

  Lady Georgette turned it over in her hands, smoothing the paper flat.

  It was sealed with a blob of plain red sealing wax, and the paper appeared to be of good quality, although worse for wear from its passage in the urchin’s custody. On the surface, a spidery hand had written Lady Georgette’s name. She looked at it, as if almost afraid, and then shook her head a little.

  “I don’t know, Marie. Let us see.”

  She broke the seal, and carefully unfolded the sheet, lifting it a little to catch the fading light through the carriage window, and studied it. As she did, her expression tightened, and her complexion paled rather alarmingly. Finally, as the others waited in worried anticipation, she let it fall to her lap, took a deep breath, and then spoke in a shaking voice.

  “It is something I could never have expected. It is a blackmail letter – a demand for money, in exchange for the writer not ruining our reputations, utterly.”

  Chapter Seven

  “But… what could the writer use to ruin your reputations? You are, as far as I know, possessed of completely, perfectly, proper lives – what on earth could they do?”

/>   Bella’s words cut through the shocked silence which had filled the carriage, and seemed to release them all from an unnatural stillness. Lady Georgette looked at her, seemed to consider a moment, then sighed.

  “I do not know if you are aware of the gossip which went around after our father’s death – after the reading of his Will, to be precise?”

  Bella shook her head.

  “Not in any detail. At that time, I was not yet married… and not well received in much of society. I have heard a little of it, recently, but I do not know the true shape of it.”

  “Nor do I – for at the time, I was not truly out, and Mother was focussed on finding Lily a husband, so I did not attend many events.”

  Camellia rather wished she had been in a position to have heard the gossip then – it would have been useful now. Lady Georgette nodded.

  “Then I will tell you what I know – which may well not be the whole of it. Both Blackwater and Mrs Chadwicke have done their best to protect us from such things, I know, but gossip has a way of seeping past all barriers. Blackwater is not aware that we know even the little that we do, I believe. It all stemmed from a rather shocking bequest which appeared in our father’s Will – a bequest which, by its existence, revealed that our father had sired an illegitimate son, whom no one knew of until then. People whispered that Father was obviously of poor moral fibre to have done such a thing and kept it secret in that way – as if there must have been something particularly scandalous about it, for him to hide it. And because they did not know what that might be, they invented all of the vilest imaginings. And they whispered that, perhaps our brother, having been raised by a man like that, might be similarly morally lacking. Beyond that, I do not know exactly what was said. I thought it had faded from society’s attention, as the year of mourning passed and they had other scandals to gossip about, but, just recently, now that our brother is going about in society again, it seems to all have resurfaced – or at least that’s what our maids tell us.”