Page 86 of A Duke's Keeper
The past month had also brought a less desirable imposter into their midst, a man Camille had detested the moment they’d met.
Lord Slasbury had wormed his way into a verbal marriage contract with Renard for Charlotte’s hand, only for everyone to find the lord had been assuming the real marquess’s name and title in order to extort a considerable amount of money through White’s betting ledger. In the end, the man had proven a raving madman, going so far as to blame not only Charlotte for her part in the botched scheme, but also Hamish for some imagined slight over “borrowing” supplies on the docks.
No wonder the man had been annoyingly persistent at the Quickners’ garden party. Any criminal worth his salt would have researched the scandal sheets for lords and ladies down on their luck. He must have read the notice about her connection to the previous Duke of Camine and thought he’d found an easy way to make her brother’s acquaintance.
Luckily, the horrible conman had been caught and locked up just the night previous, permitting the past weeks of chaos running through the household to finally settle down. Her family was at last safe.
Her hand went to her stomach on reflex, any thought of family coming with a mix of joy and sorrow.
She was happy for her brother—even if he remained an uncompromising ass—and her friend, but Camille ached inside. With Charlotte’s connection with Renard, it wouldn’t be long before his visits became irregular and hard to predict. She’d been fortunate so far to anticipate him and avoid a meeting, but her luck wouldn’t last. Soon, she’d have to leave again, this time, away from England.
She pressed a hand to the windowpane and gazed off in the direction of Lux estate, where a certain duke was known to reside. That ache worked its way up to the muscle in her chest.
“Renard,” she whispered.
“Milly.”
Camille froze.
That voice. Her heart swelled.
She turned, the action slow so as not to dislodge the image of the man standing in the open doorway, his hat and gloves seemingly forgotten in his hands. Desert eyes ensnared her. The breath caught in her throat. Her eyes drank him in, her mind ravenous for the smallest detail.
He’d grown thin under his coat. Dark circles hung under his eyes and the hair on top of his head lay long and unruly around his face, but he was as handsome as he’d always been.
His gaping mouth closed and spread into a smile. He repeated her name, the one word filled with the purest joy. “Milly.” Hat and gloves dropped to the ground. He walked to her with long strides. He stopped less than a step away and gazed down at her, those eyes burning. “I found you.”
She swayed forward, compulsively needing to feel his warmth against her skin, before she returned to her senses and locked herself in place.
Her body rebelled at the distance, but her mind had wrested control. As had cold determination that she now wrapped around herself like a shield.
“What do you want, Your Grace?”
He stepped back, as if her words had come with a physical blow. His brow furrowed. “I want you.” Said like it was the most obvious thing.
Three little words that snuck under her shield like water through a sieve. Camille swallowed down a wave of emotion. “I made myself clear, Your Grace. I do not wish to continue a liaison with you.”
“I don’t understand.” Renard shook his head. “I thought we’d agreed to work through things.” He glanced around. “What are you doinghere?” His eyes lit up. “Did you come to the wrong estate by accident? Lux estate is the next plot over.”
The hope in his voice hurt. Camille forced herself to hold his gaze, forced herself to lie. “I never had any intention of seeking you out. There is nothing left between us.”
His expression fell. “You don’t mean that, Milly.” His eyes were pleading. “I know I made mistakes.” He ran a hand through his hair.
The familiar action sent a cascade of longing through her.
Camille clenched her jaw until pain pushed the feeling away. “The mistake was mine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and forced her face into a mask resembling granite. “Even after being rejected, you can’t let go. I told you I don’t want you. You had no reason to come looking for me.”
“No reason?” Anger chased away the hope on his face. “You’d vanished. Of course I came looking!”
Charlotte rushed in from another room, her cheeks flushed, with her husband quick on her heels. “What’s the matter, brother?”
“Matter?Matter!” Renard whirled on Hamish. “Is this what all those letters were about? The summons to visit so late? You wrote of a threat to Charlotte, but I should have known that was just a ruse to get me to come... You should’ve told me sooner that you’d found her!”
“Exactly whom was I keeping from you?” Hamish sounded infinitely patient.
Renard’s hard gaze turned. “Her.”
Camille flinched. There was no hiding anymore.
