Camila was quiet, pretending to listen to her cousin and their friends, but not really hearing the conversation. When she saw Pemberley make his way toward her, she stared at her dance card. Of course. He was going to claim a dance.

He greeted her companions before taking her hand. From then on, it was the same thing from the last party they went to.

They'd dance. They'd go their separate ways for a while. He'd exit to the garden, or he'd find her somewhere along one corridor. And then they'd go somewhere private. They'd talk about anything and she'd listen to more of his stories. Then he'd move for a kiss and she'd let him, but nothing more because he respected her and was willing to wait until she was ready.

Sometimes, she'd feel bad. She'd think that maybe she could give in because he had been nothing but patient. But she'd remember Knight's warning: Don't ever force yourself into anything if a part of you doesn't want to.

"Are you feeling alright?" Pemberley asked, concern in his eyes.

Camila smiled at him. He was such a good man. She could feel his sincerity and knew that he cared for her. But they were not willing to take this as far as marriage. Thus the secret rendezvous and stolen kisses. Neither wanted far more than a moment of pleasant distraction.

"I'm fine. Just exhausted, I guess."

He nodded, sitting beside her on the settee. "Have you thought about Birth?"

She slowly nodded. He invited her to join him and his friends at another villa party before the Humbrick Ball. Birth parties were just a way to mingle with acquaintances and find a lover one could go with in Humbrick if they did not already have one to take with them.

"And?"

"I'm going with Amanda to Raymund's party. Sophia is going with some of her friends from Gavaria," she said. "But you're welcome to come by with your friends."

Pemberley nodded with understanding. "Of course."

She came to her feet and looked around the drawing room. "Amanda must be looking for me." She smiled down at him. "I'll see you around?"

Pemberley returned her smile. "You most definitely will, my lady."

She was absently making her way back to the ballroom when she stopped, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Her hands shook, the faint music giving her a headache. Her heart began pounding in her chest, stealing her breath. Cold sweat formed at her temples.

She knew what was happening and quickly found a sitting area in one corner of the hall. Once she settled in a chair, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. When was the last time she had an attack? One month ago? Two? She couldn't remember.

"Dear child, are you quite alright?" a concerned voice spoke.

She looked up and found four ladies settling in the vacant chairs.

Camila smiled at the four elderly women. "I'm alright, Lady Winthrop," she replied.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the woman said, studying her closely while her friends looked on with equal concern.

"Bad drink, perhaps. But I'll be fine," she assured the woman.

Lady Winthrop didn't look convinced, but she nodded her head anyway. "How is your garden, dear?"

The trembling lessened as she focused on the woman's question. "Blooming and thriving, my lady."

Lady Winthrop turned to her friends and said, "Dear Camila has been growing her own garden for a year now."

"Another one with a green thumb!" said one of them.

"Don't mind us, my dear," Lady Winthrop told her with a wave of her hand, turning on her seat to face her friends. "You should rest in quiet. And tell us if you need anything."

"Thank you," she replied, although she wasn't sure how she could get both rest and quiet when Lady Winthrop was around. Everyone knew that quiet was least expected in her presence. As the town's biggest gossipmonger, she was never silent.

"As I was saying," Lady Winthrop said to her friends, resuming their previous discussion before they discovered Camila. Suddenly, in the midst of their gossipmongering, Camila had ceased to exist. "The boy is now the new Duke of Islefield. All eyes are on him. Watch all the ladies swoon at his feet once his mourning is over."

Camila felt terribly awkward hearing them gossip openly, but that instantly changed when she realized they were talking about Knight.

"Oh, I would start falling on the ground soon if I were them," said one of the ladies.

All heads leaned closer, including Camila's. "Truly?" Lady Winthrop asked. "Why do you say so, Imelda?"

Lady Imelda shrugged. "The Grand Duchess herself had been telling everyone who came to see her to offer their condolences—and perhaps also to sell their daughters—that her son met someone quite promising."

"Who?" Lady Winthrop and the others asked the same question in Camila's head.

"One of the daughters of the king's cousin, I heard. I am yet to find out who, but the Grand Duchess is very hopeful. She said the first meeting was a success. And that, my dears, says a lot. The boy has been ignoring all ladies his mother has been throwing his way. Except for this one."

Camila slowly leaned back in her chair, no longer listening. In fact, everything seemed to have taken a step back, leaving her feeling a little empty and confused. The trembling was gone, the sweating, and even the rampage in her chest had come to a halt.

Then, she stood. The ladies stopped talking and turned to her.

"I should return to the party," she said to them. "Good night, my ladies."

But she didn't return to the party. She went straight to the hall and grabbed her coat. Then she walked out.

Thirty minutes later, she stood outside his villa. She couldn't remember what she was thinking when she decided to come here, but as she knocked, and the doors opened, and the footman let her in before rushing upstairs to announce her unexpected visit, Camila took the time to think.

She paced the hall, biting her cheeks and frowning at the floor.

"If this is becoming a habit, I strongly oppose it," Knight's voice said as he walked towards her, face filled with concern despite his words. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

She stepped back when he stopped too close. "N-No. Nothing of the sort," she said, meeting his gaze for a second before looking away. "I just—" What was it she was going to say? "I just thought I should tell you that I had a fantastic evening."

He looked both confused and amused at the same time. "Good."

"With Luke."

He slowly nodded.

"Luke Pemberley."

"I know his name, Camila."

"Of course, you do." She looked around, clearing her throat, before squaring her shoulders to look him straight in the eye. "I decided. I want him to be my first lover."

He blinked a few times. "I hope he finally met your qualifications, and that you did not make the decision simply because the Humbrick Ball is upon us."

She shook her head. "No. He... He made me feel wonderful tonight."

Something crossed his eyes. "Very well," he said, nodding curtly.

"And I shall no longer be needing your help."

He stayed quiet and just frowned at her.

"You need not introduce me to other gentlemen. And as for our lessons, I think I've learned a lot. I cannot thank you enough." She smiled, but he didn't. "And you don't have to join me for a walk every morning." Before he could open his mouth to protest, she quickly added, "I do not wish anyone to construe our friendship as anything more than what it is."

This time, he didn't even hide the scowl on his face. "I don't care what others think."

"But I do," she said. "You're a duke now. Everyone's attention will be on you, and I don't want that attention associated with me."

"Camila—"

"But we're still friends. We'll still see each other at parties. You're coming to Birth, aren't you? With Raymund? We can meet each other with the rest of our friends."

His jaw tightened. "But never just us two."

Camila nodded. "Yes."

"Just because I'm now a duke?"

Well, there were other reasons, but she didn't want to discuss them. She could hardly understand them herself. "Yes. It's nothing personal, Knight."

He looked at her for a long while. Eventually, he let out a sigh, nodding once. "Fine."

"Thank you. I knew you'd understand."

"Honestly, I do not. But if this is what you want..."

"It is." She was such a liar, she thought as she swallowed, averting his gaze.

"Then so be it," he said, finally offering a faint smile.

She took another step back with a small smile. "I'll see you in Birth," she said, turning around.

"I'd walk you to your villa, but—"

"I know," she interjected. "Good night, Your Grace."

***

Baffled.

Yes, perhaps that's what he was.

Angry.

He was that, too.

Because he never understood why she said what she said that night. Even two weeks later as he stepped out of his carriage in Birth, he was still thinking about it. Knight could think of many reasons, but Pemberley was definitely not one of them.

But maybe he is. Maybe the man did something right in the end.

"Knight!"

He looked up and found Raymund in the upstairs balcony. And from behind him, Amanda appeared, beaming and calling his name, waving her hand to beckon him to join them. He gave them a curt nod and entered the doors, suddenly bombarded by dozens of guests who easily recognized him. He accepted condolences and greetings with a smile as he looked for the stairs.

Birth parties were different, especially before the famous Humbrick Ball. While everyone had to watch everything they did back in Coulway, they didn't have to here. Well, for the most part.

While everyone had to watch their every move in Coulway, here they were free. To some, they enjoyed the Birth parties more than Humbrick, but the two were completely different. In Humbrick, they could experience the grandeur of Coulway balls openly with lovers and the promise of secrecy. And for many, it was still their much-preferred entertainment.

For the younger ones, Birth was just for the thrill of the hunt. And their prize would be the one they would enjoy during the entire week-long Humbrick Ball.

The seaside villa was owned by Raymund's family. He had promised Knight he only invited a dozen other people, but that didn't seem to be the case.

"Good evening, Your Grace," a woman greeted him as she passed, her sultry gaze looking him up and down.

He ignored the lady and the stairs and found his way to the back. The cool night wind from the sea greeted him. Glowing yellow, two octangular tent rooms stood by the beach. He could hear the faint chatters from within. There were guests scattered everywhere else, in groups and in pairs.

For a moment, he felt lost. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here. He wasn't even looking for a lover. In fact, he was unsure if he wanted to go to Humbrick.

"I see you've finally arrived," the familiar voice, the only one that could make him freeze with anticipation, spoke beside him.

He snapped his head down and found Camila staring at the two tents. "You should see it in daylight."

"Why?"

"They perfectly ruin the view."

Knight smiled, pushing both hands in the pockets of his trousers with a sigh.

"Knight!"

He looked over his shoulder, and his mouth formed a line. "Pemberley," he greeted with a tight smile as the man stopped beside Camila.

"Everyone's been wondering where you were since this morning," the man said. "Right, Camila?"

Camila nodded, eyes not meeting Knight's gaze.

Tearing his eyes off the couple, Knight pretended to study the premises. "Is there any prey left for me to hunt?"

Pemberley laughed, Camila didn't. She looked at him with a frown, as if he was something she couldn't figure out.

"Very well, I'll leave you two alone," he said, stepping back. "First hunt is brandy, I suppose."

"You'll find more upstairs with Raymund," Pemberley told him with a chuckle before turning his attention to Camila. "Shall we?"

Knight smiled at her when she looked over her shoulder, then let out another sigh as she and Pemberley stepped down into the sand and walked toward the tents.

He eventually came upstairs and joined Raymund and Amanda for but a mere hour or two before the pair disappeared somewhere in the villa. According to his friend, he was certain Amanda would agree to marry him in Humbrick. They might as well wed. Everyone knew about their affair, and even Amanda was no longer trying to hide it.

It was easy to let everyone know that he was not hunting that night. With a glass of brandy, he escaped into his room and locked the door. After throwing his coat aside, he dragged a chair to the small balcony that overlooked the ocean and just sat there, trying to make plans for the next day.

It was ridiculous coming here, he sourly thought as he absently loosened his cravat. He should have known he wasn't ready for such games. Throwing the cloth to the side, he tipped his head back and finished the glass of brandy.

And he should have known there would not be enough drinks, he thought with dismay as he placed the glass on the floor.

Craning his neck, he watched the guests from the tent retreat into the villa. Those who didn't have rooms went home to their rented places. The faint sounds of doors closing in the corridor outside caused a bitter smile on his lips. He wondered if Camila and Pemberley were among those whose giggles died as the doors closed.

Closing his eyes, he let out a frustrated groan.

He would go home tomorrow. There were important things waiting for him in his estates. It was time to step up to his new title. No more pining for someone determined to see him as just a friend.

It was uncertain how long he sat there with his eyes closed, how long his battle with his thoughts went. Or if he had fallen asleep when he heard the faint knocking on the door.

When he was certain it was coming from the other side of his door, he slowly rose.

Thinking it was a servant, or perhaps an unlucky hunter hoping to catch a duke, Knight opened the door just a crack. Enough to get information if it was a footman, and just enough to close the door if it was a woman.

But it was no servant, nor was it just any woman.

His hand fell to his side as he stared at Camila. When she pushed the door wider, she poked her head inside the room while he did the same, looking down both sides of the corridor outside to look for Pemberley.

"You're alone," she noted, stepping inside.

Knight scrutinized her with growing bafflement. "And so are you."

"I couldn't sleep," she said, closing the door because he wouldn't. Not when he didn't know why she was here, or what this was all about.

There was nothing but the moonlight streaming through the open balcony, but he saw the nervous swallow she made as she pressed her back against the closet standing beside the door.

His eyes wondered downward and his entire body tightened. White nightgown. No laces or sheer fabric, but just a plain cotton nightgown.

Still unsure about the purpose of her unexpected visit, Knight decided to attempt humor. "If you're here to make me assess your choice of nightwear, Camila, I should say now that you'll need something far better. But if Pemberley is—"

"He went home."

Knight blinked in surprise. "Do you need a ride to his villa? I know he's staying in—"

She shook her head. "No. I think he's going home to Coulway."

He leaned his shoulder against the door and waited in silence.

She looked around the room, biting her lip. "I told him I can't go to Humbrick with him." Before he could comment, she quickly added, "Are you ready for Humbrick?"

"Are you?"

"I don't know." She looked around his room again. "Who are you going with?"

"Who are you going with if not Pemberley?" he asked, evading her question again.

Her eyes jumped to his and Knight's heart pounded with anticipation.

"You said you don't want us to spend time together alone, Camila."

"I know."

"Then why are you here?"

As their eyes locked, all pretense of restraint melted away. Her answer was blazing in her eyes.

Knight moistened his lips as the air crackled with an unspoken tension, a longing that neither could deny.

Her eyes went to his mouth, and her own parted in silent invitation.

Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter. Without hesitation, Knight pushed away from the door at the same time she moved away from the closet to close the distance between them. The tense silence screamed their desire as his hands reached out to cup her face and his mouth crushed down on hers in a shattering kiss.