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

by Arietta Richmond

Suddenly, Camellia realised that she had a problem. So much time had passed since she had snuck out of the house and taken a cab, that it was likely her absence would be noticed, if it had not been already. Quietly, she stood, and went to Lord Setford.

  “My Lord, might I prevail upon you for assistance?”

  “Certainly, Lady Camellia – how may I help you?”

  Those piercing grey eyes were amused, and Camellia suspected that he already knew what she was about to say.

  “I… I aah… I snuck out of the house to go and investigate the pawnbroker’s, because I could not bear to be doing nothing at all to help. And... well, I have been away far longer than I had intended. If I do not get back to the house soon, and sneak in, then my absence will be discovered. I aah, need help to return home inconspicuously.”

  Lord Setford laughed softly, then nodded.

  “Of course, my Lady. My coachman is used to the need to be inconspicuous. But I suggest that, before we send you off in the coach, you get Lady Georgette to write you a quick letter, inviting you to call tomorrow, so that she may impart some exciting news. That way, you can come here tomorrow, and officially ‘discover’ all that has happened today.”

  Camellia looked at the man before her – the man who could almost disappear in a crowd, the man who appeared to know almost everything about everyone, the man who had helped those she knew innumerable times, and who had just, yet again, demonstrated his brilliance.

  “Thank you, my Lord. I will do as you suggest.”

  She turned away, and sought Lady Georgette.

  Ten minutes later, with the letter tucked into her reticule, she stepped into Lord Setford’s carriage, relieved, and yet still worried – she still had to get into the house. Tom, their stableboy, would almost certainly be happy to pretend that she did not exist as she went past him, in exchange for a coin, but that still left the need to sneak in through the servants’ door without being seen.

  She would manage, she told herself firmly. Anything was possible, with enough determination.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Damien opened the door to Bigglesworth’s Books, amused in a way that it was here that Setford had asked to meet him. It seemed a strange choice. But the man had depths Damien could only guess at, so he complied. He walked up to the counter, feeling vaguely silly. The old man who owned the shop looked up from the book he was wrapping, and smiled.

  “Can I help you, my Lord?”

  “Mr Bigglesworth? I… ahh… have a meeting…”

  “Aaah, here to see himself then? Come this way.” He waved Damien past the counter, and pulled aside the curtain behind it. “To the left, go to the end, then up the stairs to the next floor – rap on the door you’ll find there. And the stairs aren’t as rickety as they look.”

  “Thank you.”

  Damien did as instructed, and went down the dim corridor, and up the definitely rickety looking stairs. The door he found looked rather solider, and he rapped on it and waited.

  Moments later, the door opened, and Setford waved him in.

  “Take a seat – coffee?”

  The room was large, brightly lit by big glass windows set along one side, through which a rather stunning view of the London rooftops presented itself, with a workbench under the windows, and a set of couches around a magnificent Aubusson carpet in front of a fireplace opposite the windows. He went to take a seat.

  “Yes, thank you. Coffee would be welcome.”

  In fact, the scent of it filled the place, and had made him instantly wish for a cup when he entered the room. Setford went to a small table in the corner, and poured two cups from the pot which sat there, then carried them back to the couches, handing one to Damien.

  Damien sipped it – it tasted as perfect as it smelled, and was exactly the right temperature. How had Setford managed that, he wondered, when he had not known the precise time at which Damien would arrive?

  “You probably wonder both why I have asked you to meet with me, and why here – am I correct?”

  “You are. It seems an odd place for a meeting. Most people choose to meet at one of the clubs…”

  Setford settled back in his seat, nodding.

  “Which is exactly why I don’t do so. When you meet at one of the clubs, everyone notices, and wants to poke their nose into your business – and my business is not one where I can allow that. I have alluded to it, but to be clear, I am His Majesty’s Spymaster.”

  Damien considered that information for a moment, even more curious now about the reason he had been invited to this meeting.

  “I see. And… why did you want me to come here today?”

  Setford laughed – a big, cheerful laugh, which almost made Damien want to laugh with him.

  “Good, you don’t mince words. I like a man who says what he’s thinking – in the right circumstances. Let me explain. I have regular dealings with your half-brother – he is a craftsman par excellence, and well able to craft the sort of tools which my men require - swordcanes, and other items with dual purposes. You are here today because he commented to me that he had never seen a swordsman as skilled as you are. Such skills are something that I respect – and value. They are remarkably useful to me, especially in men who society does not expect to have that degree of ability. Therefore, having investigated your attitudes to life a little, and observed your reactions to that little blackmail affair, I have decided that you are the sort of man I need. To put it succinctly – I want to recruit you to serve Crown and Country.”

  Damien absorbed that idea, and found himself intrigued by the concept.

  “Aaah… and exactly what would that entail, my Lord?”

  “Two things, one you’ll probably enjoy far more than the other. The enjoyable one would be passing on some of those skills as a swordsman to various of the men who work for me. Men from all walks of life, men who risk their lives frequently, and cannot always carry a weapon obviously. They need to become experts at using the swordcanes which Mr Black makes.”

  “That I can do with pleasure, so long as you can provide a suitable location for me to do so – for I assume that you wish the activity to be kept secret?”

  “Indeed. And I have a place in mind. The second thing, which you will likely find far more tedious, is for you to work in collaboration with Lord Canterford – who is married to Lady Camellia’s sister, and is how I came to know of the blackmail of your sisters – to observe those in society, and take note of any peculiarities in behaviour. For the biggest threat to the Crown is not invasion from a foreign power, or a rebellion of the masses, but is, instead, the threat of treason amongst the ton. Even now, there are those whom we watch, discontented young men, who sow discord out of boredom as much as anything else. As a Duke, you can move amongst all areas of the ton without anyone questioning you – and thus can observe what is done and said easily, in places where most of my men cannot go. Canterford already does this, to some extent, as do a small cadre of others – but they cannot be everywhere.”

  “I am saddened, but not surprised to hear of plots amongst the ton. And yes, I am willing to do that – indeed, it will give me a further purpose for being at some of these tedious events which I must attend for my sisters’ sake, which will make them more bearable. But you mentioned that you had only chosen to ask me this, after observing my reactions to the denouement of the blackmail affair. I am curious – what, in that, made you decide that I was a suitable man to recruit?”

  “Simple. You chose to be kind, and to right the wrongs of the past, rather than perpetuating bitterness and anger, pointlessly. A man who is driven by anger, and a desire for revenge, does not think clearly.”

  Damien laughed, a laugh with a bitter, brittle edge, yet driven by true amusement.

  “That is very darkly amusing. I have spent the last year and more, since the Will reading revealed my father’s duplicity, full of bitter anger and mistrusting everything which I had thought I knew to be true. After all, how could I trust anything, when the marriag
e which both of my parents had presented to us as being one of love and devotion was based on secrets and lies? I felt as if my entire life had been a lie. It is only in the last few weeks that I have begun to feel differently – a little.”

  “And what has made that change occur?”

  “A number of things, beginning with my father’s words in his bequest to Thomas, and culminating in the understanding I found as we stood in the parlour at Blackwater House, and I saw what ravages long held bitterness had wrought upon Lady Prunella. And then, to see Lady Camellia go to her, and be kind and caring, despite all that she had done… it made me realise that I value kindness more than revenge, more than bitterness and anger, that I do not want my sisters lives to be scarred by the past, any more than they already have been. Lady Camellia’s gentleness made me see Lady Prunella for what she truly was – a woman worn down and broken by decades of bitter desperation, all caused through no fault of her own. The very idea that, should I cling to my bitterness and anger about my parents’ actions, I too might end up desperate and alone, and bringing harm to others, was repugnant. But… it is hard to let go of that bitterness – and even harder to trust that others are as they seem – no more, no less – and that caring for another person might result in good things, rather than betrayal. But doing the right thing by Lady Prunella is at least a beginning.”

  “If it helps you in any way to know it, I believe that you are moving in the right direction. Bitterness rarely produces anything but more bitterness. If you need any evidence that true love in marriage is possible, and that it leads to happiness, you need look no further than Lady Camellia’s family – her parents are as deeply in love with each other now as they were from the day that they met, and so far, her three older sisters have each married for love. Of them all, though, Lady Camellia is the one who is most unfailingly kind – she has a gentle soul, which cannot imagine bearing a grudge or choosing to harm others. Whatever circumstance brought her to assisting your sisters to come out into society, you should regard it as a gift.”

  Damien allowed the words to seep into his mind – which was almost completely distracted– for as soon as he had, himself, mentioned Lady Camellia’s kindness to Lady Prunella, images of her had risen in his mind – always kind, always self-effacing, even though her beauty would allow her to dominate any room, should she choose to do so, and always deeply aware of the suffering of others. Her investment strategy was testament to that, as well as to her acute intelligence.

  Her kindness was, he realised, what had drawn him to her in the first place, for it touched on the part of him which had spent the time since his parents’ deaths lost and aching, grieving not just for them, but for the life he had thought he’d had, and had discovered to be largely a lie. She made him want to believe that love without betrayal was possible.

  Love…. Part of him flinched from the idea, but he pushed that sternly aside. Could he love her? Could he allow himself to take that risk? He did not know, but, suddenly, he knew that he wanted to find out.

  Setford was watching him, and Damien had the oddest sense that the man knew exactly what he was thinking. It was disconcerting – and strangely comforting, as well.

  “It is a gift, you are right. A gift which I must pay more heed to…”

  “Do. I cannot see it being anything but beneficial. But back to the business at hand. I will, at the next Ball or Soiree where we are all present, introduce you to Canterford. I will also, within the week, send you the information about the location I propose for you to deliver the swordsmanship lessons. If you deem it suitable, then we can set a schedule which suits you. Until then, think well on the discoveries you have made, with respect to your feelings – do not let the actions of others, in the past, steal your chance for happiness now.”

  <<<>>>

  Camellia stood with Bella to one side of the ballroom in Porthaven House, watching the people in the crowded room. This was one of the first really large Balls of the Season, and would also be a test of how well their attempts to change the pattern of the gossip were working. In the last week, they had gone with Lady Prunella to Madame Beaumarais’ shop – she had been seen by one of the senior seamstresses, not Madame herself – and arranged a new wardrobe of gowns for her. The first few had been made very rapidly, and Lady Prunella had set about making calls on anyone who was likely to welcome her, and talking – talking about how she had discovered that the previous gossip was groundless.

  She had even, based on a clever suggestion from Lord Setford, been whispering that she’d heard that Blackwater and his sisters had been the subject of a dreadful blackmail campaign and an attempt to smear their characters.

  Camellia hoped that it was working. Tonight would tell – either people would look upon the Falton sisters kindly, or they would not. Bella had been shocked when Camellia had told her all about the drama in the pawnbroker’s shop, and the revelations later at Blackwater House – shocked, and envious that she had missed all of it. Camellia was not sure, having lived it, that she thought of it as so much of an adventure as Bella did!

  So far, she had not heard Blackwater specifically mentioned by anyone – which, she supposed, was a good sign. Across the room, another group of new arrivals came through the door, and Camellia turned to watch. First in the group was Lady Weatherby, surrounded, as always, by the group of widows and spinsters she counted as close friends – they would be amongst those to watch closely, with respect to gossip. A number of families came in behind them, mothers anxiously shepherding daughters in their first Season. Then, as Camellia was about to turn away, Blackwater and his sisters appeared in the doorway.

  They stepped into the room, looked around, and then began to make their way towards where Camellia and Bella stood. When he was halfway across the room, Blackwater lifted his head a little, and met Camellia’s eyes. For her, everything stopped, everything else faded away, all but his eyes, and his smile. When he smiled, he was more devastatingly handsome than ever, the scar on his cheek only making him seem more dashing. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she licked her lips nervously.

  Moments later, he was bowing over her hand, holding it for just a little longer than was proper.

  “Good evening, Lady Camellia, Your Grace.”

  Bella acknowledged the greeting with a smile of her own.

  “Good evening Blackwater, Lady Georgette, Lady Marie, I do so love those gowns – I think that they are the prettiest of all that Madame has made for you.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I must admit – I am very nervous this evening – so many people…”

  Camellia touched Lady Georgette’s arm gently.

  “All will be well, do not worry. Remember to act as if you haven’t a care in the world. Come, let us walk about the room a little, and I will introduce you to some more people whom you have not met before.”

  Blackwater watched her as she spoke, and she shivered, remembering the curve of his arm surrounding her in the pawnbroker’s shop. There was something in his eyes, a warmth, which had rarely been there before – something which made her wish, desperately, that she was not about to walk away from him. But his sisters’ needs were paramount.

  As they circled the room, people still paused and whispered – but the tone of it was different., and many of those whom Camellia knew slightly, and who had ignored the girls before, came up to them, seeking introductions. Relief began to fill her – it seemed that their tactic was working – more people chose to associate with the girls, and more gentlemen were amongst those who approached. Overall, people’s manner to them seemed sympathetic.

  As they circled back towards Bella, she could see that Blackwater was chatting with those around him, seeming more open and friendly than before. When they reached him, he turned those bright green eyes on her again, and, suddenly, she found herself short of breath.

  “Lady Camellia, might I hope that you still have a dance available?”

  Her heart fluttered, and she felt a somewhat excessive smi
le creep onto her face.

  “I do, Your Grace.”

  “Then I will claim it – which dance might it be, Lady Camellia?”

  “The… the first waltz, Your Grace.”

  He bowed, deeply, elegant in every way.

  “Wonderful!”

  And it was.

  The evening proceeded perfectly, with Lady Georgette and Lady Marie finding their dance cards full, and Camellia more sought out than she had ever been before. But the highlight of her evening was that waltz – being held in his arms as they moved with the music left her in a dreamlike daze, where her imagination dared to hope for far more than she had previously admitted that she wanted.

  Chapter Twenty

  Damien stood in the doorway, watching as Lady Camellia and his sisters discussed the Ball of the previous evening. Mrs Chadwicke sat quietly in the corner of the room, talking to Lady Camellia’s maid. The mid-afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, and caught glints from Lady Camellia’s hair, making her seem lit from within, haloed in gold, like some beautiful angel come to earth. The poetic nature of his thoughts shocked him – he was not normally one for such whimsy. But she was exactly as he had thought – an angel, in her kindness, and in everything she did.

  His sisters were excited, and happy, for the evening had been a success, and for the first time, there had been no nasty whispering. He cast his mind back to the moment when he had taken Lady Camellia into his arms for the waltz. Holding her only at the approved polite distance from him had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, when all he had wanted was to crush her against him, and bring his lips to hers. He had known, since that moment, what he was going to do today.

  All he had to manage now was to have the courage to do it.

  A sound behind him broke him out of his thoughts, and he stepped aside to allow the maid to carry the laden tea tray into the room. Once she had passed him, he followed her, and dropped into the armchair closest to Lady Camellia.