Page 36 of Ravishing Camille
And now was so much more.
Chapter 9
Two days later, Pierce took Camille’s hand to help her up the step into the train car. He’d purchased first class for four. James, his newly appointed valet, and Ivy, Camille’s maid, had been thrilled with the news not only that they were to go to London, but also that they were to attend them in the first class cabins.
“Thank you.” Camille had praised him for it when he’d told her about the tickets before dinner last night. An egalitarian if there ever was one, she approved of his largesse. “I usually sit with her in the second class cars.”
“A young woman should not have to be concerned for her safety when traveling. Or at any time.” His purchase of the servants’ tickets had been out of concern for their welfare. Just as he had protected his sisters when they were little girls, he would protect any woman in any circumstances. Camille, as well.
But he had to be honest with himself about the purchase of the tickets. He had other reasons for wanting the two servants’ presence. Their company meant he would be focused on Camille as his friend. Only his friend. In train compartments. In the Hanniford house in Piccadilly. In any room where she walked and drew his eyes and his anxiety.
She took the upholstered banquette facing forward, Ivy beside her. He faced her, James next to him.
She had donned a deep rose summer walking suit of cotton with fine hand embroidery of wild field lilies in the bodice. She’d always turned herself out in appropriate finery and this morning, she once more had him smiling at her elegance. Even her trim little lavender chip hat topped in more tiny lilies seemed gay. She made him the envy of a few men who passed them by. No wonder. The color illuminated the glow of her complexion. The fit illustrated the curve of her figure which no corset need elaborate.
He tore his gaze to the window and those passengers in the Brighton station who ran along the quay to catch their places in the second and third class coaches behind. He grew desperate to be on the road, away from the crush of their family. He had told himself he needed to see Camille alone without them. In her own environment. With her publisher and friends. With her mother’s manager and business associates. That would soothe his ruffled feathers, his troubled mind. Help him see her as a person who was a business woman herself, organized, talented and artless.
Artless. An intriguing word that had come to him two nights ago during dinner when he had the occasion to watch her with her guest, the artful Mister Aldridge Connor.
“I had a note from Mister Connor this morning. Flowers too.” She folded her hands and stared at him, one long golden brow arching.
He huffed. What a woman. Even with Ivy and James present, she would ask. “That’s bad news.”
“Why?” She waited and he held his tongue. “Come now. Ivy and James have seen him. Ivy, twice before. Be frank, Pierce.”
Well now that was a challenge, wasn’t it?Do be frank, old man.“Connor. Connor. Ah, yes. Connor. He speaks well. He dresses well. He does not smoke. He drinks, it seems, moderately.”He is determined to make you his wife.“He is arrogant.”
She crossed her arms and in that delicious rose attire, her breasts pushed up to ample heights, making him tingle.
Christ.He looked away.
“So you don’t—?”
“Like him? You tell me! Why would I? Would he make you a faithful, caring spouse? Would he be good for you? Nurture you? Encourage your writing and your desire for political career? You must ask yourself that, not me, Camille.”
Never me.
He’d sworn to himself to be honest with himself about this attraction he had to her, too. Over the years he’d been on his own in business, he’d made millions being brutally rational with himself about projects he favored. Ruthless in his analysis, he’d learned to separate desire from wisdom. He’d wanted to invest in a Japanesezaibatsufocused on building steel mills. But the conglomerate was very family-oriented and at heart resented westerners. He’d taken his money elsewhere.
At one time, he’d also advised the imperial viceroy of Foochow to finish the completion of public sewers. But the man had delayed. Then the city had suffered a flood and as a result, a bout of cholera. More than four hundred died. Pierce had pleaded with him to allow him to create better sewers in a twoliarea, a small but illustrative display. The viceroy refused.
He’d also proposed to open a school to teach Chinese students the fine points of electricity and plumbing. He’d told the viceroy he would fund the school. But the elders of the region learned of the proposal and favored the didactics offeng shui—wind and water—as rulers of the universe. Pierce could not fight tradition, as much as he did not wish to fight family allegiance or prejudice against westerners.
Now he had to be wise about his disturbing new attraction to Camille. It was sexual awareness. No wonder. He’d not indulged in any intimacy for more than a year. He’d been grieving. Now looking at Camille, young and alive, gay and laughing and oh, so ripe for a man to love her, he was more than interested. Sadly.
He ran a hand through his hair.
She tipped her head in question.
He had to smile, didn’t he? And he had to be smart about this. He was older than she. Much older. He could even scold himself and declare he was too old for her. But not quite doddering, was he? Not when he could be drawn to her lips and her breasts and…
He swallowed.
“Are you unwell?”
“He is not for you. And I will not say more. I am eager to be off.”
“Ah.” She pulled her leather portfolio closer to her and her elegant fingers riffled through it. She took out a folder and pencil and opened her paperwork. When he didn’t move but continued to watch her, she put down her papers. “Did you bring work?”
