Chapter 263: Chapter Two Hundred And Sixty Two
Camilla bit her lower lip to prevent herself from having inappropriate thoughts. She needed to escape this room immediately before the situation became too awkward.
She thought to herself, her internal voice filled with suspicion.
"Something is wrong," Camilla thought, her eyes darting quickly toward the maid standing in the corner of the room.
She looked back at Damon sitting comfortably in his chair.
"Isn’t he supposed to be at the camp by now?" her thoughts raced wildly. "He is the General. He always leaves the house before the sun even rises. Why is he still sitting here in his sleeping shirt?"
She took a tiny, slow step backward, moving her shoe back into the hallway.
"If I leave now," Camilla reasoned internally, keeping her face blank, "I can still make it. I can just go straight to the fabric store. I do not have to deal with this tension today."
She prepared to turn her body around and run away.
But Damon was watching her every single move. He saw her take a step backward. He heard her frantic thoughts clearly in his mind. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. She was trying to escape.
Damon did not let her leave.
"My lady," Damon’s deep, smooth voice suddenly called out across the large dining room. The sound stopped her in her tracks.
Camilla stood still. She looked at him.
Damon let out a polite smile. He gestured his hand gracefully toward the spread of food on the table.
"I’m sure you are hungry," Damon said softly. His voice was calm and steady. "Let’s have breakfast."
Camilla stood in the doorway. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to tell him she was not hungry at all. She wanted to say she had important business to attend to. She opened her mouth, fully intending to deny his invitation and walk away.
But right at that exact moment, her own body betrayed her.
GURGLE.
GROWL.
A loud sound echoed from Camilla’s stomach. The sound was so loud that it filled the quiet dining room.
Camilla had skipped dinner entirely the night before, her stomach was empty, and the smell of the roasted duck and fresh bread was simply too much to resist.
The room went silent.
Mr. Murry, standing near the window, politely looked away and pretended to inspect a speck of dust on the wall. The young maids standing in the corners of the room bit their lower lips, trying very hard not to smile.
Camilla felt a fresh wave of hot, burning embarrassment flood her face. Her cheeks turned red.
She slowly lowered her gaze. She looked at the amazing spread of food on the table. Her mouth literally began to water.
Then, she looked back at Damon.
Damon was still looking at her. He gave her another small, knowing smile and simply waited patiently for her to join him.
Camilla let out a long defeated sigh.
"Fine," Camilla thought to herself, giving up her escape plan. "I cannot fight on an empty stomach anyway."
She stepped fully into the dining room. She walked slowly and gracefully toward her usual seat on the left side of the long table. A young footman quickly stepped forward and pulled the chair out for her. Camilla sat down, arranging the skirts of her day dress around her legs.
As soon as she sat down, the maids began serving. They moved quietly, placing clean plates and cups in front of her.
Camilla tried her best to avoid any more eye contact with Damon. The memory of the kiss was still making her feel awkward. She needed a distraction.
She turned her head away from her husband. She looked at the older housekeeper.
"Uncle Murry," Camilla spoke out loud, breaking the quiet silence. Her voice was smooth and conversational. She pointed her finger gently at the huge amount of food covering the table.
"What is the occasion?" Camilla asked curiously. "Why is there so much food prepared this morning?"
Mr. Murry stepped forward. He stood near her chair and bowed his gray head very respectfully. His wrinkled face was glowing with a happy smile. He looked thrilled.
Murry replied, his voice full of pride.
"The general prepared all these for you," Murry announced clearly, gesturing his hand toward the entire table.
Camilla blinked her eyes rapidly.
"For me?" Camilla asked. She looked at the roasted duck, the soup, and the fresh orange juice.
She paused. A very sharp, cold feeling of suspicion suddenly entered her mind. She narrowed her gaze.
"Why?" Camilla asked suspiciously. Her voice lost its polite tone. She did not trust random acts of kindness from Damon.
Murry kept his happy smile firmly in place. He wanted to highlight the General’s wonderful, romantic efforts.
"For your hard work yesterday, My Lady," Murry replied smoothly, explaining the reason. "You went to bed hungry last night. The General was very worried about your health. He wanted you to have a befitting breakfast to restore your energy."
Damon sat at the head of the table. He opened his mouth. He wanted to chime in. He wanted to tell her he just made only the orange juice but Mr. Murry did not give him the chance to speak. The older housekeeper continued his proud explanation, cutting Damon off.
"The general got up very early this morning," Murry revealed, his voice filled with awe. "He went down to the kitchen himself, trying to prepare all these dishes with his own hands."
Camilla lost her composure.
"What!" She shouted out loud.
The sudden shout echoed violently off the stone walls.
The young maids serving the food jumped backward in surprise, almost dropping a spoon. Mr. Murry flinched slightly, startled by her extremely loud reaction.
Camilla realized she had just shouted like a crazy person.
She quickly raised her hand and covered her mouth. She cleared her throat softly.
Ahem.
She forced her face to relax, composing herself immediately. She put her hands neatly back onto her lap.
But inside her head, her mind was spinning in circles.
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