Page 28 of His Duchess of Scandal
“I only meant to annoy my papa!” Phoebe stressed, ignoring him, or perhaps wanting to state her case before she conceded.
He moved towards her, but she stepped back, her small face tight with a stubbornness he feared she got from him.
“I didn’t want to cause any harm. Lady Hermia has been so kind to me.” Phoebe pointed at the French doors set in the opposite eggshell-blue wall. “See, she let me in! I got a hug, too. She should not be punished. I should be punished instead.”
She looked at Charles warily, as if expecting punishment right there and then.
Shocked, he stared at her, all words vanishing from his mind.
He had never seen his daughter show any remorse or acknowledge that her pranks often went too far. Never quite this far, nor to the point of running away. Nevertheless, she had never been aware of the damage she caused.
Slowly, he looked at Lady Hermia. Did she have something to do with it? And if so, what had she done that he could not?
Lady Hermia looked exhausted as she moved towards his daughter. He said nothing as she placed her hands on Phoebe’s shoulders, as if protecting her, ready to pull her back at the slightest bit of grievance.
“Phoebe,” she whispered, “thank you for your words, but you ought to go with your father now.”
“No!” Phoebe shouted, spinning to face her, and then the room, anguished. “No, I will not. Not unless you can stay with your sisters. I heard you begging to spend one more day with them!”
Charles stiffened, realizing she had dragged him into a situation he had no part in or business witnessing. He beckoned her over, but she did not budge, stubborn as ever.
“Your Grace, I beseech you to control your child,” Lord Wickleby ordered.
Charles would have taken offense at the man’s tone had he not agreed.
“What an insolent little girl you are,” Lady Wickleby hissed. “Your Grace, you ought to?—”
“My daughter ismybusiness,” Charles interrupted sharply. “Not yours.” He turned to look at them, appalled. “Is it true what she said? Are you sending Lady Hermia away?”
He tried to keep the disgust from his voice.
Lord Wickleby yanked at the collar of his shirt, as if embarrassed to be called out. But then he stuck up his nose, seeming confident in his decision.
“Yes. It is not unheard of to do such a thing when a daughter has disgraced her family beyond repair, Your Grace. It is for the goodof my other daughters, who are already having a hard enough time bearing the shame.”
“Father,” Lady Hermia implored.
The plea rattled Charles, a vulnerability he was not meant to hear.
He noticed how Lord Wickleby did not even look in her direction.
“She is ruined, and by your hand, if the scandal sheets are to be believed, Your Grace,” Lord Wickleby accused. “She must be banished from Society.”
“But she is my friend!” Phoebe sobbed.
Charles looked back at her upon hearing a gentle shushing sound.
Lady Hermia was stroking her hair, something he himself had never done. Phoebe leaned back against her, her sobs subsiding slowly.
“Papa did not ruin her! She is good, and she has been kind to me. She did not send me away like you are trying to do to her!”
Charles couldn’t believe it. He had never seen this side of his daughter before. A girl who listened to Lady Hermia for someindiscernible reason, and who actually was soothed by the comfort she was offered.
Guilt coiled in his chest, reminding him that perhaps it was because Lady Hermia was gentle with her and showed patience, whereas he…
He bit back his shame, for he had only ever treated his daughter with impatience and stern words, unable to handle her pranks without a methodical approach.
Yet Lady Hermia—a stranger—comforted her without a second thought, and had coaxed an apology from her for the first time in years.
