Page 118 of His Duchess of Scandal
“All I ask is that you return to Branmere Manor with me.”
“How could I ever refuse?” Her smile returned.
It felt too long since she had last smiled up at her husband, yet it felt so right to do so.
The following day, Hermia confronted her parents with Charles at her side. It was not an easy task to face them and spill everything they had caused her, to watch them react to her hurt, to try to deny it. But she spoke her mind, and that was all she had to do, until Charles tugged her towards his carriage.
Once they returned to Branmere Manor, a cry rang through the hallway.
Before Hermia could react, Phoebe tore down the main staircase in a blur of dark hair and a powder-blue dress.
“Miss Hermia!” she shouted. “Hermia! You have returned!”
Hermia’s arms were already open to the girl she had come to see as a daughter for a while. Phoebe raced into them, and her small body fit into Hermia’s embrace as though she had always belonged there.
Hermia held her tightly to her chest, sighing into her shoulder. After a moment, Charles wrapped his arms around them both.
“I love you,” he murmured against Hermia’s temple. “I love you both, ever so much. Forgive me for being so blind.”
“I forgive you, Papa,” Phoebe whispered, as if she were being brought in on a secret.
Hermia could not stifle her laughter.
“I forgive you, Charles,” she mimicked, only to find herself held tighter, and she melted into the embrace.
“I love you, Charles,” she corrected quietly. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
“I always will, whether you call or not. I will always find you, my Hermia. My Aphrodite.”
“My Ares,” she whispered back.
And, as one, the small family of three held one another, and Hermia knew that this truly was home, filled with the love she had once thought she had bid goodbye to.
There had been no sacrifices, not any longer, only a gain.
“I love you,” Charles murmured against her cheek.
“I love you, Charles,” she said quietly.
Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Ihave always wanted to see the gardens of Branmere Hall,” Sibyl said, looking around the pathways as Hermia led her down them.
On her left, her sister was pink-cheeked and happier than she had been over the last few weeks. What had happened with Lord Grenford at the Hatterlys’ garden party had left her shaken and afraid to venture out a great deal.
On Hermia’s right, Phoebe walked along. She didn’t skip, as if she wanted to show Sibyl how grown up she was.
“They were one of the first things I loved about moving here,” Hermia told her. “There is always something about flowers that can be so calming, do you not agree?”
“Definitely.” Sibyl sighed. “In fact, I received a bouquet from Lord Damien only last week, and I… well, I admit that I presseda flower to the pages of my book. Now, whenever I read at night, I think about him.”
“Has he courted you since the… the incident?”
“He has tried, but I confess that I have not ventured out much.” Her sister’s face paled with embarrassment. “I am doing much better, but today is the first place I have truly gone out and felt comfortable. Mother has not been happy with my behavior, but everywhere I go, I am looking around every corner. I know that Lord Grenford left England a week after they tried to apprehend him, but a part of me worries about his return.”
Her fingers toyed with her skirt. It was a nervous tic she had developed after the garden party. Once, mere days after the threat, she had confessed it was a movement to check her skirt was intact. Lord Grenford’s words had left her shaken and out of sorts.
