CamillasConsequences

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Book: Read CamillasConsequences for Free Online
Authors: Helena Harker
I look forward to seeing you.” He takes my hand, raises it to his lips and kisses it.
    Even through the glove, his touch is warm, and although I should pull away, I do not. When Hephaestus releases my hand, it takes all my self-control to stop myself from standing on my toes and kissing his lips. I imagine their firmness and their heat. Delicious. Forbidden. “Until then, Hephaestus.”
    When I leave the shop, a confusion of emotions overwhelms me. Suspicion. Arousal. Happiness. Wariness. Despite my trepidation, I am most eager to see Hephaestus again.

Chapter Three
     
    At precisely three o’clock, I enter the Chesterton Tea House. Ladies seated at small round tables look up from their cucumber sandwiches, their lips purse into little “ohs” of surprise, and a flurry of whispers races from one to the other. I nod at the high-society ladies, the ones I recognize from pictures in the newspapers. A few of them nod back. Only a few. I frown. These women have no idea of the services I have rendered for them over the past few years. If they did, they would ask me to join them and shower me with thanks. No matter, my goal is to see Lady Aldridge.
    There she sits, at a quiet corner table, accompanied by one of her daughters. Their hair is an identical shade of corn silk, their eyes the same vivid blue. In the daughter’s severe bone structure I recognize traces of Lord Aldridge. Lady Aldridge, on the other hand, is all soft contours and delicate mannerisms. She holds her fork in a dainty grip, plants the tines into a slice of tomato and lifts it to her mouth.
    Everyone’s eyes follow me as I stride across the room. Are they envious of my diamond earrings? Do they resent the magnificent Equine that pulls my carriage? Are they thinking of the latest rumor surrounding the solitary woman who resides at Bleak Hills? Or, as Hephaestus implied, do some of them secretly admire me for being a success in a man’s world?
    “Lady Aldridge,” I say with a smile, “allow me to introduce myself.”
    “Camilla Covington,” she says, as though tasting a new food and finding it bitter. She places her fork on her plate, and her shoulders stiffen.
    It is almost comical to see her daughter duplicate her movements, all rigid and proper, sending me the message that I am unwanted. The young lady, barely seventeen, her hair twisted into an elegant French braid, looks down her aquiline nose at me. She truly is Lord Aldridge’s offspring.
    Considering that I am here to better Lady Aldridge’s life, their chilly reception causes me to grit my teeth. I suppose I cannot fault the lady. She has no inkling that I have come here to help her deal with her husband’s multiple infidelities.
    Since she does not invite me to sit, I use a polite, deferential approach. “I was wondering if you could spare a few moments to speak with me.”
    Before I even finish, she shakes her head. How rude.
    “I’m afraid not.” Her pretty eyes narrow, and she raises a teacup to her pale, pink lips.
    I lean forward, lower my voice so no one else can hear and issue an ultimatum. “Either you come outside with me for a short walk along the garden path, or I will sit here and say what I need to say in front of your daughter and every other lady within earshot.”
    Mother and daughter exchange consternated glances. For a woman such as herself, rumors and scandal are the enemy, so she behaves exactly as I expect.
    “Excuse me, Sarah,” Lady Aldridge says to her daughter. “It appears Miss Covington and I have an important matter to discuss.”
    “Thank you, Lady Aldridge. May I call you Virginia?”
    “You may not,” she mutters tersely as we exit through the rear door and follow a narrow garden path. “I cannot imagine what someone like you might have to say to me.”
    “There is no need to be disagreeable,” I admonish, my fingers brushing the leaves of a mulberry bush.
    Blood-red roses wilt on the vine. A sea of fallen petals litters the ground at my feet.

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