Archie was undoubtedly the most kind and generous man she'd ever known. When he looked at her as he had just before he pressed his mouth to hers, she wished that she was anyone other than who she was, that she was deserving of a man such as he.
She fought not to remember how her stomach had quivered and her heart had fluttered. He unsettled her. He caused her to want things she couldn't have, to be willing to risk discovery of the truth for a few moments in his arms—for surely a man such as he would discern the truth with ease. When in his presence, she was forced to keep her guard up, to remain ever vigilant against revealing her weaknesses.
How was she to have known that he would become a weakness, like a box of chocolates that once opened was impossible to close until its contents had been devoured.
"My lady, are you all right?"
She glanced over at her secretary, who'd been waiting in the earl's foyer. Everyone knew Camilla didn't believe that a lady of her status should be bothered with the mundane tasks of her position, and so she kept her secretary near as much as possible to handle inconsequential matters.
Lillian was only a little older than Camilla. The fifth daughter of a merchant, Lillian had been educated, but all the education in the world couldn't alter her appearance. Camilla didn't like to be cruel or speak ill of those she favored, and she was fond of Lillian, but the dear woman was little more than bones and points jutting here and there. No matter how much she ate, she never seemed to gain weight so she rather resembled a stick walking along the street, but refused to pad her clothing. She had an angular face. A pointed nose that held her spectacles in place. Even her front teeth came together to form an unattractive angle that led one's gaze down to her sharply pointed chin.
Camilla forced herself to smile and hoped that Lillian couldn't tell that Camilla's lips were swollen, tingled, and carried the intoxicating taste of Lord Sachse upon them.
"I'm fine, Lillian, thank you for inquiring."
"You seem unsettled, and I saw Mr. Spellman lurking about. His presence usually doesn't bode well."
Camilla smiled softly. "Hardly lurking. He wanted to speak with the earl about my expenditures."
"I feared they would get you into trouble again."
"No, not with this earl. He told Spellman they were none of Spellman's concern, and even after Spellman left, he failed to ask me why I would purchase so many clothes."
Archie had surprised her by standing up to Mr. Spellman, defending her right to spend as she chose. Yes, she'd earned that right, but she'd not expected a man to understand what it was for a woman to be berated constantly, never to measure up to her husband's expectations.
She'd been only sixteen when the old earl had taken her as his wife, believing that his aged seed could more easily find root in a younger girl. He was desperate to replace the son lost to him when his first wife had taken the boy to America for a holiday. The child had fallen ill and died there, and the old Sachse had never forgiven his wife for taking so little care with his heir. Camilla wouldn't have been surprised to discover he'd poisoned the dear woman.
He'd been a horrible, horrible man. Camilla had come to loathe him with every fiber of her being. But she had been powerless to control her destiny.
That was no longer the case. Now she was in complete control. She had paid dearly to acquire power and influence—and she would do anything to hold on to all she'd gained and if possible to climb higher.
She was not by nature greedy, but she'd learned through harsh experience that wealth was preferable to poverty, beauty favored over ugliness, confidence better than doubt, holding a title more advantageous than being a commoner. She'd attained all and looked back on her life with no regrets, except on the most lonely of nights when she would undoubtedly find herself staring at too many regrets to count.
But then ciphering had never been one of her strong suits, so it was quite possible that her regrets were not as numerous as she feared. But neither were they as dangerous as the truth, for if revealed it would cause her to lose her influence more quickly than anything, so she kept it well hidden. Even Lillian, who spent the most time in her company, didn't suspect.
Manipulation of facts and appearances was a part of whom Camilla had become, and although it reeked with dishonesty, it was the only way she knew to protect herself. As Charles Darwin had theorized twenty years earlier with The Origin of Species, survival was dependent upon adaptation to one's environment. And if she was nothing else, she'd determined she was a survivor.
"Perhaps you should explain to the new earl what you do with all these purchases."
"No, as generous as he appears to be, I have no way of knowing if his generosity will extend beyond me. I'll not risk having my good works stopped."
"So the possibility exists that he could withdraw his generosity at any time," Lillian mused. "What will you do under those circumstances?"
"For security, I must find myself another husband. I've not given up on snagging a duke simply because one got away from me this Season." For a time, she'd been betrothed to the Duke of Harrington, but Rhys had fallen in love with a Texas heiress, which had caused scandal and near ruin for all involved. Still, she'd managed to survive the fiasco.
She would find herself another duke with the ability to elevate her status to that of duchess. After all, she had turned thirty only recently and was extremely skilled at managing her assets: her face, her figure, her ability to appear confident and in control, when she was anything but.
"Finding another duke will be a bit of a challenge when Lord Sachse seems to take up an inordinate amount of your time."
"Lord Sachse is no bother, I assure you," she responded hastily, not understanding her need to defend him when she'd never felt a need to defend any man. "He is nothing like the old earl."
Which makes him oh so much more dangerous.
She returned her gaze to the window. Archie was indeed nothing like the old earl. He was handsome beyond measure. Young, energetic, fit. She loved the way his eyes sparkled when he discovered something new, and she'd been able to share so many discoveries with him in London. They'd attended concerts at Albert Hall and seen Madame Tussaud's wax figurines. They'd strolled through art museums and gone to operas.
She'd never met anyone who possessed as much curiosity as he did. He asked questions about everything, studied all around him as though unable to be fully satisfied with any explanation, as though there was always more to discover.
And when his inquisitive gaze fell on her, his eyes would darken, causing her to quiver with anticipation—of what she didn't know, but it hovered just beyond reach, a silent promise as yet unfulfilled.
He did more than watch her. He studied her as though she were a butterfly housed beneath glass. What did he see when he stared at her so intently? What was he able to discern from his constant perusal? Obviously he did not see her true self, or he never would have pressed his mouth against hers.
And what a marvelous mouth he had. So skilled at eliciting pleasure. She'd found the movement of his lips, the sweep of his tongue incredibly tantalizing. As much as she'd wanted to retreat, she'd been forced to stay, because she'd never known anything as sweet or enticing. Or hot. The heat had seared her blood, had warmed her throughout. Then the tears had come because for the first time in her life, she experienced the rising tide of passion. She couldn't give in to it. He would discover her secret then.
And with the discovery, he would cease to look at her with interest because she had little doubt that what he valued most, she lacked. She'd faced rejection countless times throughout her life, but she had an odd feeling she'd not survive a rejection from him.
"Lillian, have the driver stop the carriage. I wish to walk in the park."
While Lillian saw to the task, Camilla kept her gaze on the grassy green knoll that had come into view. Children scampered over it, and she imagined the games they were playing. Their laughter and cries were filled with innocent joy. She hated that a time would come when
all that would be stolen from them, when the realities of life would shove aside hopes and dreams.
The carriage rolled to a stop. The footman opened the door and helped Camilla climb out. She knew Lillian would no doubt join her, but she had no desire to wait.
She began walking along the path, enjoying the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. She preferred the bustle of London to the slow waltz of the countryside. If not for Archie's need of a hostess and the fact that it would be unfashionable to do so, she would remain in London after the Season came to an end.
She stopped walking and studied the children dashing hither and yon. They were the one thing in life that no matter how diligently she worked or conspired, she would never attain. She would never know what it was to feel a child growing within her, to see love reflected in a man's eyes because she'd gifted him with a son or a daughter.
The old Sachse had taught her that a woman who couldn't bear children was not one worth having. She'd thought she might die from the lessons he gave.
Instead, like delicate skin constantly chafed, she'd grown tough and hard. She'd found other things within herself to value. And while they might be shallow, of little consequence in the grand scheme of the world, they gave her a measure of satisfaction and allowed her to fool everyone around her. No one knew of her heartbreak, shame, or regrets.
She would do whatever it took to keep things that way.
* * *
Chapter 3
My dear Camilla,
I must begin by seeking your forgiveness for my inexcusable conduct this afternoon. Your actions clearly indicated that you were appalled by my behavior. I must admit that my actions took me by surprise as well.
It is not my place to find fault with the things which you've come to value or the choices you make in your life.
I was not angry with you. Rather I was lashing out against my new situation, which forces me to consider aspects to a woman beyond love. As you were quick to point out, I am in need of a wife who can provide me with an heir.
I had always considered love to be the one and only criterion that I would use when selecting a wife. Although even that isn't quite true, because I'd never viewed the finding of my soul mate as a selection, but rather more of a quiet recognition that would slip upon me at an unexpected moment: that this one person was mine and I was hers.
I know you think me a silly romantic, but I grew up surrounded by such a love. To know that it can exist, and not to seek it out, seems rather sad to me.
I shall not give up on the notion entirely, but I shall take your concerns to heart and keep in mind that there can be nothing between you and me other than friendship.
Rest assured, dear lady, that I'll not overstep the boundaries between us again. I shall sacrifice the warmth of your lips against mine, the scent of your perfume filling my senses, the press of your curves against my chest, the sound of your whimpers, and the feel of your arms around me. I shall sacrifice them all because it is what you desire.
You have been most kind to me since I have come to London. I didn't mean to reward you by making you unhappy. I understand my place in your life. And I will not seek to make it more.
I need you, Camilla, to help me find a wife.
And I will do all in my power, little though it may be, to help you secure your duke.
Your devoted servant,
Archibald Warner
The 7th Earl of Sachse
Camilla sat within her library, gazing out the window, while Lillian sat nearby reading aloud the latest batch of correspondence. A countess received an ungodly amount of letters, was required to send an abundance of replies. When Camilla had hired Lillian, she'd explained that she believed her eyes should be spared the constant squinting necessary to read all that came her way. She also had no desire to get ink upon her fingers, so left the task of writing to Lillian as well.
She and Lillian had devised a workable solution. Lillian first read the letter aloud. Camilla skimmed over it later if she determined it held any significant information, then provided the response that Lillian dutifully wrote.
Camilla was going to have a dreadful time responding to each of today's inquiries because she could barely remember what each person had written. It was so unlike her not to remain focused on the task at hand. Whatever would Lillian think when Camilla stumbled along instead of providing her usual confident responses?
How could Camilla explain that her mind kept drifting to the afternoon and the kiss that Archie had bestowed on her? Even after her refreshing walk in the park, she found that his bay rum scent still lingered, and memories of the passion simmering between them wouldn't be put to rest, but remained to taunt and tease her with the possibilities of what might have been if she weren't so fearful of the consequences.
She'd never considered herself a coward, but where he was concerned she certainly was.
A sound at the doorway had her turning her attention there, grateful for the distraction from her morbid musings. The butler stood patiently, holding a silver tray. Like all the servants in her residence, Lillian, too, for that matter, he technically worked for Archie because it was the Earl of Sachse who paid the salaries. She fully understood that if it ever came down to it, their loyalty would have to go to him rather than to her. She was really no more than a guest, and she feared a time would come when Archie would realize that.
"Yes, Matthews?"
"A letter has arrived from his lordship."
Her heart kicked painfully against her ribs, and she had trouble drawing in a breath. "From Lord Sachse?"
The high tone of her voice surprised her, sounding very much like the squeak of a mouse when cornered by a large and ferocious-looking cat.
The butler, as befitted his station, gave no indication that anything was amiss in her response, and stated levelly, "Yes, madam."
She felt as though her ability to think clearly had stepped out of the room as Matthews stepped farther into it. What could Archie possibly want? Why would he send a letter? Had he written about their encounter that afternoon? Described it in detail? Asked for another session? Demanded another kiss, or she would indeed find herself with an allowance?
It was as though she watched through a dark tunnel as Lillian, reacting from years of habit, took the letter from Matthews and, using an intricately carved silver letter opener, unsealed the envelope in preparation of reading its contents aloud to her mistress.
"No!" Camilla jumped to her feet, then fought to regain her composure as both her employees stared at her as though they didn't quite know this woman who was acting so unlike herself. She held out her hand. "I'll take the letter."
Lillian furrowed her brow, which caused the pointed tip of her nose to appear more pointed. "You don't wish for me to read it to you first?"
And risk the possibility of revealing my very personal and private encounter with Lord Sachse this afternoon? I think not.
Although she knew that Lillian was the soul of discretion, she also believed it was imperative to keep secret that Archie had kissed her—and worse, that she'd kissed him back—until she'd regained her senses. It was so much less embarrassing that way. Deigning not to answer Lillian's question, she snapped her ringers impatiently. "The letter, Lillian, if you please." And even if she didn't.
"As you wish, my lady." Lillian handed the envelope over to Camilla.
"Leave me now," Camilla ordered. "I wish to have a moment of privacy."
Once the servants had departed, and the door was closed, Camilla returned to her chair by the window. She removed a single sheet from the envelope, unfolded it, and held it toward the late-afternoon sunlight.
In spite of her apprehension regarding what he might have written, she smiled. She'd known that he'd write with neat, yet bold, sweeping strokes. Slowly, she trailed her fingers over the marks he'd made. So beautiful, so elegant, so perfect.
She'd known it would be so. He was a teacher after all, and she'd known he'd teach by example.
Tears fi
lled her eyes. At that precise moment, she'd have gladly given up her hard-earned title to be able to read what he'd written.
With letter in hand, Camilla retreated to the sanctuary of her bedchamber. She was desperate to know what Archie had written, but not desperate enough to risk asking Lillian to read her the letter—especially after she'd broken from their usual habit. How would she explain her sudden reversal without appearing flighty? She certainly wouldn't reveal the truth: that she lacked the ability to read.
It was her most shameful secret: her inability to decipher the complex maze of scrawl that resulted in words that allowed people to communicate through writing rather than voice.
She envied those with the ability to read, to open a book and bring forth a story that had once existed within someone else's mind, to know with a single glance over a newspaper everything of importance that was happening within the world, to see a sign on a shop window and know immediately what was being advertised even though no drawing was provided. People who could read took for granted the possibilities that existed because they could share others' experiences and thoughts. Even a stranger's. They didn't appreciate the largeness of their world, while she was left to flounder within the smallness of hers.
She'd spent the early years of her life in poverty on the streets, clutching her mother's skirt while her mother sold her skill with a needle… and sometimes herself. The memories were not pretty.
She'd been eight when her mother had taken her to the children's home. Had she been younger, she might have had more success with the schooling they'd offered, but she'd been too proud to let on that she hadn't a clue as to how to read or write. Her gift was memorization. She could have someone read to her and repeat what she'd heard almost verbatim. She'd thought if she pretended that she could read and write, that eventually both skills would take root and the pretense would become reality.
Instead, she'd simply learned how to pretend extremely well and convince people to believe whatever she wished them to. She made herself indispensable at handling chores, so she was often called upon to work rather than to study. She became like a magician, providing distractions that hid the truth and manipulating the performance so that it seemed true magic had taken place.
As an Earl Desires Page 3
