Chapter Seven
Camille sat at dinner, fiddling with her napkin. She’d decided not to tell Lily and Max about her plans to visit Rex this evening.
“How’s the patient?” Max rumbled.
Camille nearly choked on her roast beef. How had Max known the very man she was thinking about? “What? Oh. He’s very good.” She dropped her napkin in her lap. “Frankly, I can’t believe how quickly he’s healing.”
“He’s had a great deal of practice. Healing that is.” Max stabbed a piece of his beef. “Used to street fight for money.”
Camille closed her mouth to keep from speaking. She’d noticed the alarming number of scars on his chest.
“How dreadful,” Lily gasped. “Why did a marquess need to fight at all?”
Max looked at Camille. “He was the son of the third son of the old Marquess. The first son had two heirs and so when Rex’s father passed the family never even bothered with him. Can you believe that?”
“What happened to the cousins?” Camille had already heard the first part of this story.
“Died crossing the Atlantic. Can you imagine? Brawling in the docklands one day and owning a fortune the next?” Max shook his head, staring down at his plate. “Sometimes I wonder how the man ever kept a level head.”
Lily clucked her tongue. “How awful.”
Max continued to stare at Camille. “He keeps up the fortune because he hasn’t forgotten what it means to go without. But he has flat out stated he’ll never marry and produce a proper heir. He hates the title and everything that goes with it.”
Camille knew those words were meant as a warning. She dismissed them. “He isn’t the only one who will likely never marry.”
“Don’t say that,” her sister cried. “You’re one of the most caring people I know. Of course you’ll have a husband and family of your own.”
She turned to Lily. “Your faith in me has always been wonderful, but I just don’t think it’s true. I’ve no reputation and no dowry. Who is going to marry me as I am? Not even Mr. Mayfield wanted me without my dowry.”
“Mayfield was a fool,” Max’s voice dropped low. “That man didn’t deserve you.”
Surprise rippled down Camille’s spine. She expected this sort of devotion from her sisters but not her brother-in-law. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“Camille, I’m not being kind.” He propped his forearms on the table. “I’ve met a lot of women in my day and very few of them are as conscientious or devoted to helping others as you are.” He paused, dropping his chin. “Know that I care about you and that I want good things for you in the future. You deserve them.”
Surprise momentarily stole her words. Camille rested her hand along her jaw as she tilted her head. What did that mean?
“Max is very well-connected and knows several men who might be interested in your attributes, despite your lack of dowry and reputation,” Lily answered the question that Camille had only asked in her mind.
Camille drew in a sharp breath. “I couldn’t allow you to do that.” Max had already done too much. And somehow, meeting other men seemed wrong. She thought of Rex and the kiss they’d shared.
“Nonsense.” Max waved his hand in the air. “As soon as Rex is back on his feet, we’ll make a list of possible candidates and hold a dinner here. You can invite your sisters too.”
“Is Rex on your list of possible candidates?” Camille raised an eyebrow.
Lily shook her head. “As he doesn’t want to marry, I don’t think he’d be a good guest. Max simply meant that we’ll wait until we won’t be disturbing him with a party.”
Camille cut a piece of her meat and placed it in her mouth, the beef suddenly tasting cold and stale. A wave of disappointment washed over her, which was ludicrous. Lily loved her and only wanted the best for her. She forced herself to swallow the meat, sadness stiffening her shoulders. Right now, the best thing for her didn’t include Rex. And that was a little bit tougher to swallow.
* * *
Rex lay in bed waiting for Camille to arrive.
For the first time since that gypsy had given him that tarot card, he wished to hold it, examine the intricate markings on the back and the picture of the chameleon that graced the face. Perhaps, he thought that small piece of cardstock would provide some clarity to his jumbled thoughts and feelings.
Which was ridiculous…wasn’t it?
Maybe the gypsy herself could help him. Except he didn’t believe in that sort of thing.
Maybe Camille held the answers. He knew why he craved her touch. It was the way of the flesh. But he missed more than that. He wanted to hear the sound of her voice. Feel her breath on his cheek and smell the vanilla scent that surrounded her.
He wanted to tell her more about his life and feel the comforting press of her arms about his neck. Bloody hell, he sounded like a woman.
But he was stirring feelings in him he’d thought dead.
He heard the doorknob softly rattle and he lifted his head as it creaked open. Camille slipped through the narrow gap and then shut it behind her. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming,” she whispered.
“Smart,” he replied lifting his arm toward her. He wanted to touch her skin. “Max would not have understood.”
She reached her hand into his and then sat next to him on the bed. He’d hoped that she would lay across his chest, but instead she picked up the warm broth that sat on the bedside table and brought it to his lips. “You need to eat to get your strength back.”
“I’ll be fine. A few more days and I’ll be back to myself.” He was lying. But he would be well enough to return home and go back to his usual life. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Why did that sound so dreadful?
She gave him a soft smile. The sort that crinkled her eyes in the sweetest way. “I’m glad to hear it. Nothing will make me happier than to see you well.”
He reached up his hand to stroke her cheek. “You are a wonderful woman.”
She pulled her face away from his hand. “Everyone keeps saying that tonight. Why?”
Rex shifted to study her face. Jealousy made him flex his hands. “Who said that?”
“Well, just Max. But I get the feeling that both of you are trying to tell me something else entirely.”
She was right. What he wasn’t saying was that if he were another man, he’d marry her and take her away from all of this. But he wasn’t. The Highwater blood was cold and cruel and he had no intention of ever carrying it on. “What else could Max be saying and why would he be saying anything like that at all?”
Camille’s shoulders slumped. “He claims he is going to help me make a match.” She shook her head. “But I can’t accept his offer. It isn’t his responsibility.”
He ignored the protest that rumbled in his chest. “If Max can help you, you should take his offer.” It pained him to think of other men courting her, but the alternative, her becoming a nanny or a tutor, didn’t sit well either. She should have a family, children of her own and a husband who adored her. His muscles tightened.
She rubbed her temples. “I suppose.” Then her hands dropped. “What if I choose the wrong man again? Wouldn’t I be better off alone?”
He ached for her. Ralston had shot him but what Rex had done to Camille was so much more hurtful. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
She leaned down and kissed his forehead. He was tempted to pull her tighter against him and ravish her lips again but he held back. He thought back to what Max had said, what he’d just heard. This woman was hurting and kissing her without committing himself was the last thing she needed. He’d only add to her pain.
“I suppose that’s true. But when I make them, I seem to do a bang-up job of it,” she said, then stood. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”
“Camille,” he called, pulling himself up a bit. “Don’t give up yet.”
Her lips curved as though she were smiling but no light lit her face. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for li
stening.”
As the door closed behind him, he rubbed his fist into his open palm. Maybe Camille would feel better when she’d had some revenge. Because she was absolutely getting it.
He fell asleep thinking about how they would accomplish revenge without getting shot and when he woke in the morning, he still didn’t have a plan. He needed help.
With that in mind, he ate the toast and an orange that had been left in his room and then rose to find Max. Using the cane, he made his way down the hall. He did feel stronger and he stretched his muscles as he walked.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Max asked from the other end of the hall.
Rex grinned. “Trying not to die.”
Max chuckled. “Not likely. I’ve never met a man who gets into so many scrapes and lived to tell about it.”
“Speaking of, we have a debt to settle.” Rex straightened his shoulders. It pulled at his stitches but his muscles flexed despite the pain, enjoying the movement. “What are we going to do with our new friend, Ralston?”
Max waved him down the hall. “Let’s step into my study to discuss it. I underestimated that trapped rat this last time. Something I do apologize for.”
Rex waved his hand. “No apologies required.”
“Thank you. All the same, I think we should ask our other friends to help on this one. I can’t have you getting shot again.”
“Not a bad idea.” Rex stretched his side. “I need a few more days and then I’ll be ready to go.”
Max gave him a fierce look, his brows furrowed and drawn together. “You’ve gone mad.” They reached his office and Max opened the door. “They’ll have to come here because you are not moving for several days.”
A lump settled in Rex’s stomach. “Here? With Lily and Camille about?” He slowly lowered himself into a chair next to the fire. “Are you sure that’s wise. I mean there is the bet and—”
“The only one who is a danger to Camille, according to the bet, is you.” Max sat across from him, settling behind the desk. “And the only reason I’ve allowed you to be here is because I don’t think you can do too much to hurt her while you’re laid up with a gaping wound.”
Rex winced inwardly. He’d likely done enough already. He shifted in his seat. Though it was her that had kissed him. At first. But he was the one who kept using her kindness to convince her to spend more time with him. “Does Camille know about the bet?”
Max gave his head a firm shake. “No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Chapter Eight
Camille resisted the urge to check on Rex in the morning. She’d been up half the night considering what he’d said but also what Max and Lily had offered and she’d come to some decisions.
First, she wasn’t ready to meet new suitors. Much as she appreciated the offer, it filled her with dread. If Max needed her to leave as a consequence, then she’d find a position but she would not choose a man just to secure her future. That type of arrangement didn’t feel right.
Neither did forgiving herself and moving on after what she’d done to her family by becoming engaged to Ralston. Rex should understand better than anyone that consequences were still being felt from her failed attempt.
Heading down the hall, she started for Max’s office. She wanted to discuss her options and a possible reference. The door was open, and she heard him rumble, “Bloody hell.”
Stepping through the door, she took one look at his dark glower and asked. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. “Why do you ask that?”
“You’re cursing and scowling,” she said as her hand came to her hip. What was going on?
“That’s how he always looks.” Rex rumbled.
She snapped her head around to see him sitting next to the fire. “What are you doing out of bed?”
Max chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
Rex cleared his throat. “It’s done me good to stretch a bit.”
Camille did note he had more color than the day before but he was by no means recovered. She narrowed her eyes. “It’s hardly been a day. Back to bed with you.”
“You do like to tell me what to do, don’t you?” Rex asked even as he stood. He wobbled a little as he did, and her heart leapt in her chest.
She sprang over to his side, placing her shoulder underneath his arm. “See? You’re not ready to be up and about.” She looked back at Max. “I’d like to discuss a few matters with you. Will you be home later?”
“I’ll be here all day,” Max answered. “In fact, I can wait here for you if you’d like.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
She and Rex shuffled out the door as he mumbled. “He just doesn’t want to leave me alone with you for too long.”
She looked up at him, her breath catching. “Likely a wise choice.”
He squeezed her shoulder tighter. “May I ask what you need to discuss with him?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “My future.”
“Are you going to take them up on their offer to meet perspective candidates?”
She shook her head. Pressed against his side, she couldn’t think of being with any other man. “No.” She took a deep breath. “After what happened with Michael, I’m not sure that I’m meant for marriage. I’m certainly not ready to entertain suitors now. What if I make the same mistake again? What if I make a different one that is just as bad or worse?”
* * *
Rex leaned more of his weight on her. Not because he needed to, in fact, he’d faked the wobble when he’d stood just to be close to her. He knew that Camille would rush to his aid.
Max was doing a fine job of creating space between him and Camille but the man should understand that rakes always managed to find a way.
“Camille,” he rumbled, drawing her a little closer. He ached deep down for her. “You are a wonderful woman and you deserve to be happy.”
She stopped walking and looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and buttery.
The sound made him clench and he dropped his head lower. “Whatever you say to Max today, don’t close the door on his offer.” The words pained him but he kept his face blank. Inside, however, his gut clenched at the thought of another man touching her. He hated the idea of another man taking her to wife but Rex ignored that base instinct. He would not be selfish where this woman was concerned as she had been more than generous with him. “You deserve that future. Don’t forget that.”
They reached his room and Camille opened the door. “What do you see in your future?” she asked as she helped him onto the bed.
He lay back, closing his eyes. His limbs were heavy, his short walk having worked them far more than he’d intended. Camille began pulling the blankets up over him, tucking them about him, the motion providing him with an already-familiar comfort. “I don’t know. I’ll likely end up in some scrape where the bullet goes two inches more to the left and I don’t recover.”
She stopped, her hands on either side of his hips. “Your plan is to get shot?” Then she began tightening the covers again, her hands pulling at the blankets with enough force to make it difficult for him to breathe.
“Camille,” he pushed out. “That’s too tight.”
She clicked her tongue. “I could save you the trouble of getting shot and just use the blanket to…”
For a moment, he didn’t speak. This sassy side was new to him but he quite liked it. He let out a chuckle, although a rather weak one. “I appreciate the offer. Only people I consider my very closest friends have offered to put me out of my misery.” She gave the blankets a pull, loosening them enough so that he could better breathe. “I don’t want to die. I just don’t expect to live a long life. In fact, I’ve made it far longer than I ever imagined I would when I ran away.”
“If you don’t expect to live then why keep up your holdings? Why not just spend it down to the last cent?” She sat in the chair next to the bed. He frowned, wishing she were closer. He consid
ered pulling her on the bed next to him but forced his hand to remain under the blanket. Max was right. By pulling her close all the time, he might give her the impression that he wanted a future with her.
Did he want a future with her? He clenched his fist under the blankets. The question was irrelevant. “If I should spend all the money before I die, what then? I may die in a gutter somewhere but I’ll never call it home again.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Is that why you don’t want to marry? Because you don’t want to leave a wife and child behind?”
He supposed that were partially true. “It’s not an easy world for a woman to navigate on her own.”
Camille drew in a deep breath. “That is most certainly true.” Then she stood and crossed to the window, staring out as her forehead pressed against the glass.
He was tempted to share his other, deeper reason for not marrying. The men in his family hadn’t done a single good thing in their lives. In fact, they’d only managed to hurt the ones they should love. That wasn’t a legacy he’d pass on and one of many reasons he didn’t want a child. “Do you think you can reconcile with your mother?”
Camille shrugged, still not looking at him. “I’m not even sure I want to. It will only give her power over me again and allow her to match me with some man of her choosing.”
His chest tightened. Why did he have this reaction every time he thought of her married to someone else? He’d swear he was jealous. He willed himself to relax, letting out a long, slow breath. “I see your point.”
She turned back to him. “I should go. Max is waiting.”
He hated those words nearly as much as he hated himself for nodding in agreement. She shouldn’t be seeking out Max to discuss her future. She should be at Rex’s side.
As the door clicked closed, he hit the mattress with his closed fist. He wouldn’t keep her for his own. She deserved better than a street urchin.
Meddle in a Marquess’s Affairs: How to Reform a Rake Page 4
