Page 38 of His Duchess of Scandal
“Something is amiss,” she agreed. “Why did we not dine together? And not just me, but your daughter as well. The ten-year-old who yearns for some connection with her father, who likely does not know your favorite food because it seems you do not find the time to dine with her.”
“You mean to lecture me?” She couldn’t tell if he was deeply offended or amused or placated. “I had fallen greatly behind on my work this week. I needed the time to catch up.”
“Catching up or not, what sort of man cannot spare twenty minutes for even the quickest of dinners with his family? To ask how I’m settling in, or to ask about Phoebe’s well-being.”
Shame flashed across the Duke’s face, there one moment and gone the next.
“I know about my daughter’s well-being,” he said gruffly. “Do not assume anything about my parenting.”
“I am not assuming,” she dared to say. “Even when you found Phoebe in my family’s library, you did not ask how she was doing. You just barked more orders. Has the poor girl ever heardyou ask how she is doing?”
“You step out of line, Duchess,” he almost growled at her.
But she didn’t back down. If anything, she stepped closer.
“You do not know what happens behind closed doors. I care for my daughter.”
“And she cares for you,” Hermia murmured, her eyes roaming over his face. “She also misses her father and feels lonely.”
“Well, perhaps you should not fill in gaps when you do not know anything about my family.”
She could tell it was just a front. She knew that he was worried about her knowing too much, seeing too much that he must not have realized was visible.
“Regardless,” he said smoothly, “Phoebe understands that in order for her to have a good life and a handsome dowry, I must work.”
Hermia scoffed, looking away before shifting her gaze back to him. “That is what I heard from my father. Perhapsmydowry was worth my always looking at his empty seat at the dinner table when I was a child. You are securing her future, yes, and I do not doubt that when she debuts, you will support her and find her the best match, but what of her present life? What of the ten-year-old who eats alone and wishes you were there?”
The bite in her voice couldn’t entirely be smoothed over, but she tried nonetheless. It silenced her husband for a moment.
She took the moment to gaze at him, at his deep blue eyes and the hair that framed his face, several strands falling into his eyes. Part of her wished she could just turn on her heel and ignore him, keep the upper hand and retreat to her room.
A bigger part of her wanted to find the man who had pressed her into the bedsheets and made her see paradise. A man who had desired her enough after that night to paint her. Amid the scandal following the public reveal, she had not taken time to consider that it had actually been the case.
Instead of feeling desirable, it made her sick with envy of her former self. That girl had been worthy of immortalizing. The woman she was before him now wasn’t.
“Is there any other reason, aside from this lecture, you are knocking on my door at this hour, Duchess?” The smooth change of the topic caught her off guard.
It came so abruptly that she couldn’t fight the blush creeping up her face.
She swallowed hard. “I-I—yes.” She gulped harder. “There is the… the, uh, matter of our wedding night.”
Her face was on fire, and she swore she was ready to?—
“There will be no wedding night.”
The rejection came swift and cold.
Ice-cold dread coiled in her gut. Her face burned for an entirely different reason now. Humiliation had her backing up, hurt.
“I thought I made myself clear: you are my wife in name only.”
The Duke gave her one last hard look before shutting the connecting door in her face.
Hermia gave herself one more minute to feel the sting of embarrassment of approaching him about such a foolish thing before she gathered herself.
The Duke of Branmere was an arrogant brute. Charitable but boastful, and way in over his head regarding his importance.
She deserved better than to let herself feel such a sting.
