The Glass Orchid (13 page)

Camden collapsed against her, his face buried in her neck, his breathing heavy and irregular. Del, too, felt breathless, and she was stunned to feel the wetness of tears on her cheeks. Camden’s breathing soon slowed, and he rolled to his side, taking his weight off her. He snaked an arm around her and pulled her to him, until she was warm and nestled, tangled in his limbs. He brushed his lips against her cheek, drawing back abruptly when he felt her tears.

“Del, what is it? Did I hurt you?” He looked pained, anguished that he might have caused her harm or discomfort.

“No,” Del said, smiling. She brought a hand to his chest, and she felt some of the worried tension leave him at her calming gesture.

“Then what is it?”

“I was just — overcome, I suppose,” Del said, and when Camden made a noise of cocky male satisfaction, she swatted him gently. “Quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” she asked.

Camden smiled, but Del could see the uncertainty behind it. “I wasn’t sure I would — please you,” he said. “Since you have — that is — ” He shifted uncomfortably.

“This was like the first time for me,” Del said, rescuing him from his embarrassment. “The first time I’ve wanted it so much, the first time I’ve so deeply cared for the man I’m with, the first time I’ve been so completely given myself over to the experience. I can’t — I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I understand what you mean.”

“But you’ve — I mean, you weren’t a virgin — ” Maybe she had been wrong to think this wasn’t his first time.

“No,” Camden said, immediately turning bright red. “No, but it’s never been like this.”

Del nodded. They understood each other completely. She laid her head on his chest, content for the moment to just be held by him. He kissed her lightly on the top of her head. They lay together silently, until the breeze picked up and Del shivered.

“Cold?” Camden asked. He rose and went to Sebby, fetching another blanket from the saddlebag. He returned to her, wrapped them both in the blanket, and hugged her tight, until Del, sated and warm and blissful, began to feel sleepy.

“What happens now?” Camden asked, bringing Del out of her drowse.

“What do you mean?”

“Between us. How do we proceed from here?”

Del felt as though he had dumped her in the pond. She hadn’t wanted to think about that right now. She wanted to pretend, for just a bit longer, that the real world wasn’t waiting for them back in London.

“I don’t know.”

Camden’s brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it, letting out a frustrated breath.

“Camden, what is it?”

“I want you to be with me,” he said in a rush, as if the words had tumbled from his mouth of their own volition. “I don’t want you to — see — any other men.”

“Camden,” Del said. She was feeling panicked, at the thought of both giving up all others and embracing the vulnerability of being with just Camden, and at
not
doing that. How could she go back to her former life now that she had been with him, now that she knew what it was like? “I don’t know what to do. I — ”

Camden rose to his knees, taking Del gently by the arms and bringing her up with him. “I know how much I’m asking of you. I know scared you are of losing your independence.” He looked at her with such a determined intensity it made Del tremble. “But I can’t bear the thought of you — of not being with you. Not now.”

“I can’t just give up my life, give up everything.”

“I know,” Camden said, sounding calmer and resolute. “I know it’s too much to ask, that you give up that life. But I want you to make a new one, with me.”

“What are you saying, exactly?” Del’s heart pounded.

“I love you, Del. Your strength, your confidence, your independence. Your courage makes me want to be brave, to be better.” He smoothed her hair from her face and cupped her chin. “I want you to be with me, always. Marry me.”

Del’s head reeled. She felt like a ship with tattered sails, listing in the wind. “I don’t even know how we would go about this, how we would — and your father, Camden, your father would never allow this.”

Camden blanched, and Del knew he hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll tell my father to sod off.”

“Oh, Camden.” New tears fell down Del’s cheeks. She knew it was dangerous to entertain Camden’s proposal, to believe she could marry and have children and pretend her past had never happened. But she wanted it, she so badly wanted to be with Camden and tell his father and society and her fears to all just go to hell.

“No, I mean it. Look, I don’t know how this will all work, or exactly what to do with about my father. I just know I want to spend the rest of my life figuring it out with you, together. Unless you don’t want me.” Camden looked worried, as if that had never entered his mind.

Del thought about lying to him, telling him her feelings ran no deeper than close affection, or being outright cruel to him to drive him away forever. She couldn’t do it. “No, I — ” Del took a deep breath. “I love you, too. I love your honesty and forthrightness, your integrity. From the beginning, you’ve seen me as a person worthy of respect and affection, and your kindness and loyalty have humbled me. I can’t bear the thought of being without you, of continuing to battle the world alone. I want you with me, I need your strength and love.”

“Marry me.”

Del’s breath hitched. “Yes.”

“You could at least ask me in.”

Del blinked at the man standing at her doorstep.

“Blakely,” she said. Her tone suggested she was still trying to convince herself he was truly there and not some apparition she had conjured. “Of course. Come in.” She stepped back to let him enter, taking his coat, hat, and cane from him once he was inside.

They stood awkwardly in her foyer until Del remembered herself and ushered him to the study.

“I trust you’ve been well,” Blakely said as he sank into the chair.

“I have,” she said.

They stared at each other for several seconds, so much to say between them, so little nerve to even start the conversation.

“It has been months since I’ve seen you,” Blakely said, sounding hesitant. He seemed stiff, cautious, like a man carefully picking his way through a field littered with bottomless holes and countless venomous animals.

“I have been — otherwise engaged.” Del smoothed her skirts, hoping her bearing and countenance declared her calm and serene, and betrayed none of the roiled emotions she actually felt.

“Yes, I have heard as much,” Blakely said. “Our mutual acquaintances have reported seeing you in the company of a certain young man,” he added in response to her raised brow.

Del struggled with what to say next. She bristled at the thought of explaining herself, of seeking approval or absolution from anyone. At the same time, she did feel affection for Blakely, and it seemed only right that she give him some sort of explanation for the alienation of her time and attention.

“Who is he?”

Del was conflicted. She wanted to blurt out everything to Blakely, to tell him all there was to know about her and Camden. She wanted to say it out loud, as if speaking his name and declaring her feelings for him would commit their relationship to the ether and erase her fears, doubts, and conflicting feelings. At the same time, she wanted to keep Camden all to herself, to shoo Blakely from her residence so he would never learn Camden’s name or what he was to her. She wanted to protect Camden and her feelings for him, to keep him and the real world as far away from each other as possible.

“My God, it’s happened, hasn’t it?” Blakely looked at her, all shock and incredulousness.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Your hesitance. The look on your face. Your disappearance these past months. It can only mean one thing.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are referring to.” Del felt nervous, uneasy. She didn’t like being so easily read.

“Someone has finally broken through all your carefully laid barriers. He’s ignored the sharp and dangerous edges of your defenses and caught you. Someone’s finally caught you.”

Del laughed, and it sounded hollow even to her. “Really, Blakely, you’re being awfully melodramatic.”

“I have known you for years, my dear, and I have never seen you in such a state.” Blakely raised a hand to cut off Del’s protestations. “I am happy for you, truly I am. I only ask that you tell me his name. I simply must know who the man is who could succeed where so many others have tried and failed.”

“His name is Camden,” Del said, feeling scared and giddy all at once.

“Rhys Camden?”

“You know him?”

“Only by reputation. His father is quite the shipping magnate, though it is said the elder Camden lacks the intelligence and social grace of the son. You could hardly do better for yourself. Is it marriage, then?”

“It is.” Del battled the urge to cross herself at the utterance to ward off any bad luck her premature confidence might bring. She was sincere in her desire to wed Camden, and she didn’t doubt he was as well, but she still hadn’t figured out exactly how they would do it. There seemed so many obstacles in front of them: his father, her reticence to relinquish her independence, society’s delight in slapping down anyone who might seek happiness outside its preconceived paths set out for its citizens.

Blakely looked slightly bemused, as if he were trying to decide if the conversation were one big jest. “I should challenge him to a duel,” he said, and Del wasn’t sure he was joking. “I should force him to prove he’s worthy of the prize he’s captured.”

“Oh, Blakely, really.”

“Of course I won’t, my dear,” he said reassuringly. “But really, why does he deserve you? What has he promised you that trumps all I have offered?”

“Besides marriage?” Del asked, and Blakely had the good breeding to redden at her implied admonishment. “He — understands me. He accepts me. He values me — ”

“I have always valued you.” There was a note of wounded petulance in Blakely’s voice.

“He values me independently of what I can do for him,” Del said, continuing as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “He is intelligent and witty, and there is so much —
life
inside of him, waiting to burst out. He is kind and caring and — and he makes me feel like no one else has ever made me feel. He — ”

“Enough,” Blakely said, cutting her off. “I do not think I care to hear any further recitation on the charms of Mr. Camden.”

“Why Mr. Blakely, could it be you are jealous?” Del felt a twinge of her old feisty playfulness returning.

Blakely looked at her, his gaze heavy. She saw a host of feelings flit across his face. He
was
jealous. Jealous and regretful and perhaps even a bit sad. “I could have been that for you,” he said softly. “That and so much more.”

“Oh, Blakely,” Del said, her tone at once a reassurance and a warning. “Don’t. We could never have made each other happy, not in the end. We are too like each other, both too proud, too guarded, too damned
scared
.”

Blakely bristled. “I have never been scared of anything. I am offended at the very implication — ”

“We are both terrified and you know it. Our surly confidence is nothing more than bluster, and I have only just realized it. We are afraid of letting our guards down. Afraid of loving fully and letting ourselves be loved fully in return. We would hold back from each other, never giving ourselves completely, until it is too late and we’re old and bitter and resentful of all the lost opportunities.”

“And you think somehow it would be different with Camden?”

“I know it would be. It already is. I don’t feel afraid with him. I feel brave and strong and confident. It feels like work with you. With him, it’s easy, and the struggle is in staying away.”

Blakely’s gaze slid away from her, looking past her to the far wall. She could see he was debating whether to argue with her in an attempt to dissuade her from marrying Camden, or to accept what she told him and leave the gracious loser.

“I have always loved you, you know,” Del said quietly. “In my way. But it is the love of a sister for a brother, or a close friend for another. It is better we leave it at that, and not pain ourselves thinking it could be more.”

Blakely’s eyes returned to hers, and Del saw they held the glassy pain of many regrets.

“Please, Blakely.” It was a plea he not make things harder for them than it already was.

He looked at her for so long without saying anything that Del had begun to worry he had fallen into some sort of trance. Finally, he nodded, and Del knew he had accepted the state of things, however reluctantly. “I wish you the best,” he said, and Del heard the sincerity in his voice. “I hope he truly is deserving of you.”

“He is,” Del said, her voice steady and confident. She had no doubt he was deserving; it was
her
worthiness she feared was lacking.

“I suppose there is nothing left to say.”

“I suppose not.”

Blakely gave her one last searching glance before he rose from the chair. Del walked him to the foyer and fetched his things for him. He paused at the door, his expression suggesting he wanted desperately to find the words to convince her to give him another chance. She could see the struggle, how hard it was for Blakely to just let her go. She couldn’t be certain what made it so difficult for him, however — whether it was because he truly wanted her or he simply hated coming in second. That doubt made her all the more grateful for Camden and his forthrightness.

“Goodbye, Blakely,” Del said. The farewell was simple enough, yet her words contained a thousand meanings. Appreciation for their friendship, recognition of what they once were to each other, regret for the change their relationship must now face, excitement for what the future held for her. Above all, the sternness of her voice implied their time together was completely over. Blakely must leave her now and never return because they could no longer be what they once were.

Blakely searched her face, and then nodded. Del saw he accepted it, however reluctantly. He bowed to her, a stiff, formal gesture that demonstrated his acknowledgment of the new reality, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the black night.