CHAPTER 239: CAMILLA AND THE BEAR

"And what about you?" Quintus had asked. "What do you think of Camilla?"

"M-me? You mean me, sir?" Louis had stammered. "She’s a noble lady, sir! I can’t let myself think that way about her. That’s exactly why I’m in trouble. I don’t want to hurt her feelings—especially since she’s just been through heartbreak. And, well, I admit she feeds me really good food, sir. The meals at her house are amazing. The dishes are fancy, rare, and there’s always plenty of them. But that’s not the point! I mean, she’s a proper noblewoman, she should marry someone of her own class. Spending too much time with someone like me would be bad for her image. Even if the meals are great... and the tea snacks are incredible too, sir."

Quintus had even seen it himself, the moment Louis’s mouth had started to water as he recalled the taste of Camilla’s pastries.

The man tried to hide it by casually wiping the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, pretending nothing had happened.

It seemed that Camilla’s "taming" efforts were progressing steadily. If she truly liked him that much, then perhaps, Quintus thought, it might actually be a happier match for his niece than marrying some arrogant noble.

A straightforward man like Louis whose honest and without deceit was far more trustworthy than those sly calculating aristocrats who always hid their intentions.

Quintus felt a little sorry for the man, but fate was fate.

Louis would probably end up completely under Camilla’s thum, being pushed around and dominated by her and yet, Quintus could imagine him smiling through it all, forgiving her with that easy warmth of his.

Camilla was the kind of woman who never backed down once she made up her mind.

There was no way she would quietly agree to marry some dull nobleman.

If things went on like this, her marriage would only be delayed further, and soon, she might miss her chance entirely.

Social rank was something that could be dealt with in time.

The real problem, Quintus thought grimly, would be her parents, the Prime Minister and his wife.

"My father is soft on me," Camilla said confidently. "If I ask him sweetly enough, I’m sure he’ll give in."

That, Quintus could easily imagine. The Prime Minister who is a brilliant and sharp man who handled even the most difficult affairs of the kingdom would be completely defenseless against his strong-willed daughter’s persistence.

He could already see the scene in his head, Camilla pleading until her father’s resolve broke down.

"The real problem," Camilla went on frowning slightly, "is Mother. For now, she seems to think I’m just keeping him as some kind of pet. She says he’s adorable when he eats, like a big dog. But if I tell her I want to marry him, I’m sure she’ll be furious. That’s why, Uncle Quintus, please, will you help me?"

She clasped her hands together in front of her chest while looking up at him with those large shimmering green eyes.

Quintus felt a sharp twinge of pain in his stomach.

"Camilla," he sighed, "you know very well your mother and I don’t see eye to eye. Do you really think Henrietta would listen to me?"

But Camilla cut off his hesitation without a moment’s doubt.

"Oh, Uncle," she said sweetly, "you’re the Supreme Commander of the entire kingdom. Are you saying a man who stands to the right of His Majesty himself can’t even persuade his own little sister? Impossible. I’m sure you’ll handle it perfectly. I believe in you."

Quintus couldn’t help but think bitterly that it was her father, the Prime Minister, who stood at the left of the throne, who had once boasted about being able to outtalk anyone even him.

Still, Quintus sighed. He had already been thinking of tying a ribbon around Louis’s neck and offering him up as a willing sacrifice.

There was no avoiding it now.

As Camilla left his study with a bright triumphant smile, Quintus watched her go, then reached for the bottle of stomach medicine sitting on his desk.

Quintus had a rare day off and he had invited his sister Henrietta to his home.

The doors from the parlor to the garden were wide open and a soft spring breeze carried the scent of flowers in from the beds where the blooms were coming into full show.

Henrietta wore a simple blue dress with few ruffles that still showed off the fine lines of her slender figure. A pale rose lace shawl draped over her shoulders gave a bright springlike touch. Her reddish-brown hair was glossy and full; it had been gathered neatly and held with a jeweled hairpiece.

She had likely left her thin coat with the butler at the entry.

The butler had shown her into the parlor and a maid now served tea and sweets.

The attendants and guards she had brought were being entertained in another room.

This was family business; there was no need for caution.

"It’s been a while since my brother invited me over," Henrietta said with a small smile. "What’s the occasion?"

"This is your home, too. You should visit more often."

"I am quite busy these days, you know. Even on a day off, the Supreme Commander has far too much leisure."

"Is it so strange to want to see my little sister now and then?"

"You’re not being like yourself. Speak plainly, you mean Camilla, don’t you?"

Henrietta had always been blunt and unafraid to speak her mind. Had he somehow earned her displeasure without knowing? Quintus wondered.

"One of your men has been coming to our house quite often. He eats like a whale and is almost emptying our larders. Camilla is an important daughter before marriage; having him cling around is a nuisance."

Henrietta frowned while pressing the prongs of her fork through the cake on her plate in small irritated motions.

"Camilla is past the proper age to marry. She’ll be over twenty soon. The suitors still come, but she turns them down one by one. She ignores them all. It would have been fine if Dominic’s match had worked out."