Page 114 of His Duchess of Scandal
“Not with any of the notable groups,” Isabella stressed.
Within moments, they had branched off, Josephine and Hermia heading in the same direction, while Isabella went right for the cluster of the most popular ladies.
“What were you going to ask?” Hermia asked, right as they planned to separate.
“I wanted to ask if the happiness he brings you, orhasbrought you before this fallout, is worth everything else,” Josephine said quietly. “If it is worth giving him one last chance.”
But before Hermia could answer, Josephine parted from her, leaving her to her thoughts. It left Hermia standing alone before a hedge maze, peering into it.
She didn’t know why, but there was a horrible pit in her stomach.
Sibyl never wandered off. They had all been cowed into being the perfect ladies, forced by their mother. They did not wander off the path they were set on—Sibyl, most of all. She did not have a rebellious bone in her body, as of yet.
So when Hermia looked towards the main path of the hedge maze, she followed it, even if it went against her instincts. The further she went down the main path, the more she heard voices coming from the next path over, separated by a hedge wall.
Sibyl.
And another voice that she had not heard since the day she had left Branmere Manor after meeting with Lord Grenford.
Her heart lurched, and she hurried to the edge of the wall where it would veer right, taking her towards the voices. Her shoes whispered over the grassy floor until she finally rounded the corner and found her sister.
Sibyl’s back was pressed against the hedge wall, her hands gripping the foliage behind her. And in front of her—Heavens, in front of her was Lord Grenford.
Panic seized Hermia in a vice, her heart pounding, her chest tightening.
“… and when you find yourself in that ballroom, all alone, watching as your older sister is married off, wondering why you cannot find a suitor, know that it is all because of your eldest sister’s husband. His reputation is not exactlypristine,Lady Sibyl. Do you not know?”
Hermia’s heart stuttered at the low, cruel words, and something in her withered upon hearing her sister’s whimper of defeat.
“Please—please, Lord Grenford, let me go,” Sibyl whispered. “I will not tell anybody that we were here together.”
“Oh, you ought to, for if they know, we will be forced to marry. I might be your best option, given your brother-in-law’s standing.”
“Lord Grenford.” Hermia’s voice, despite her nerves, remained firm and confident. “I will ask you only once to step away from my sister.”
Immediately, Lord Grenford’s head snapped to her. “Ah, Your Grace, you have arrived.”
She hated how he worded it, as if he had been waiting for her.
“Let my sister go, Lord Grenford.”
“Oh, let her go?” The Viscount laughed.
Heavens,Hermia tried to reframe him as the man who had lost both his father and brother in a duel, who had inherited a title he was never meant to have.
“But am I truly keeping her here, Your Grace? Regardless, you are just in time for the show I have prepared.”
Hermia stepped closer, but he threw up a hand, a halt signal.
“Lord Grenford,please, my sister is innocent in this ugly business between the two families.”
“Ha!” He laughed. “Nobody is free from this, not if they are attached to our names. Not from my side, not from your side. Branmere’s familymustpay, and Your Grace, you ought to know this the most. Perhaps you can educate Lady Sibyl on yourhusband’s history? The duelruinedmy family, while Branmere remained unscathed. He got to swan around as the notorious Duke of Branmere, the respected art curator.”
Hermia’s eyes cut to her sister, hating how pale she was, how frightened she looked.
Hermia wanted nothing more than to go to her, to take her into her arms. She could see the wobble in her sister’s lower lip as she tried not to cry.
All I want to do is go to my sister.
