Page 30 of His Duchess of Scandal
Her mouth opened, and he saw her protest already building, so he spoke again.
“It will be a marriage of convenience, Lady Hermia. Nothing more. I need to protect my reputation, and I must save yours. I carry responsibility for my daughter’s harmful prank. I do not expect anything from you, if that is a worry of yours. Yes, we spent a night together, but as you said, we were not the Duke of Branmere and Lady Hermia. They were… they were strangers. Let us call them Ares and Aphrodite.”
He thought he saw something akin to resentment cross her face, and he wondered how deeply she regretted that passionate night after learning who he was.
“You are one of the few people who has ever gotten my daughter to show such remorse,” he told her earnestly. “I do believe you will make a difference in her life. A difference she needs.”
“A marriage of convenience?” Lady Hermia echoed, not addressing the comment about Phoebe.
He nodded.
“And that night remains in the past?” she added tentatively.
If you wish.
He pushed that terrible, indulgent offer aside.
“Yes. Like I said, Ares and Aphrodite. Another version of ourselves.”
“Henrietta,” she blurted. He cocked his head, confused. “That was the name I used that night.”
He recalled hearing that, but he had not known it was her.
“All I ask is your cooperation and willingness to see this through. Unless you have a better idea.”
Lady Hermia caught her lower lip between her teeth. Eventually, she nodded. “I will definitely be able to see my sisters? I… I cannot live without them. Not the way my parents want.”
“You will have them in your life,” Charles assured her. “In this arrangement, I will not stop you from seeing them. They are your family.”
Heavens, he had to look away, for he recalled how those dark lashes had brushed her cheeks when her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.
Seconds passed, and then she sighed.
“I accept,” she said quietly. “But if you break any promise you have made?—”
“I will not,” he vowed. “I will obtain a special license. We will be wed within the week. Leave the arrangements to me. All you have to do is show up at the church.”
For a moment, she looked offended, but then her expression softened and she nodded. “I will be there.”
Charles gave her one last nod before he turned and walked away.
When he stepped into the hallway, he paused.
Lady Hermia wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the wall, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the effort it took to keep her composure.
After a beat, he shut the library door softly behind him, granting her the privacy she so clearly needed. He recognized that kind of silence; he had worn it himself. The kind that masked too much feeling, too much hurt, until it exploded behind closed doors.
Without another glance, he left Wickleby Hall and climbed into his carriage.
Chapter Six
Four days passed, and Hermia still had not spoken to her mother or father, unable to endure their false niceties now that they knew she was marrying a duke.
As if one marriage proposal had restored their faith in her. As if the Duke’s proposal meant that she couldn’t have been as ruined as they thought she was. As if it meant they could see her as a person again.
It sickened her.
She bit her tongue whenever she was around them, counting the days before the Duke of Branmere would whisk her away from them, yet would let her keep her sisters.
