Page 39 of His Duchess of Scandal
Turning on her heel with a huff, she strode back to her bed and closed her eyes.
When she could not sleep after a while, she went to the writing desk tucked below the window.
Above, the moon hung high in the inky night sky, and she gazed at it for a moment.
She began to pen a letter to Sibyl, painting Branmere Hall as the romantic fairytale home she would love to hear about.
Before signing it, she added,I am certain that if I can find love, it will be in such a grand place.
The lie didn’t taste as bitter when it was in ink.
Over the next three days, Hermia acquainted herself with all the servants, trying to commit their duties to memory. She mapped her way around the house, easily learning the layout.
Even Miss Tarnen commented on it one afternoon as Hermia went through a list of ideas for dinner that night.
“You have adjusted to your new surroundings well,” she noted. “However do you do it? When I first came to Branmere Hall with Lady Phoebe, I got lost around every corner.”
“I simply have a good mind for it,” Hermia answered honestly. “When my youngest sister grew aware of being moved from our townhouse to our countryside residence and back again, she became rather confused, so I embroidered her a map. It was not as accurate as it would have been had I drawn it, but it was a keepsake for her. Something to fold up into her pocket. I believe she still has it.”
“Clever,” Miss Tarnen praised.
“Ah, my sister—Alicia, that is—has far surpassed my intelligence. She drew a map of both residences within a year after that. Every level, every room, all of it in perfect, angled detail. She said that if she drew her own map, she would never have to rely on another for directions.”
“She sounds remarkable.” The governess laughed.
Her distraction gave Phoebe a chance to scramble over and peer down at Hermia’s list.
“What are you writing?” she asked.
“It is a to-do list,” Hermia told her. “Have you ever drafted one?”
Phoebe’s blank stare as she shook her head made her smile.
“Let me show you.” She shifted on the settee so Phoebe could clamber up.
Once the girl was settled, Hermia explained, “This is a to-do list for dinner tonight. What you said when we ate together made me think that it would be nice to have a fa—a family dinner.” She paused over the word, not wanting to take liberties. “I have already asked the cook to prepare your favorite dishes.”
“With grapes?” Phoebe perked up.
“With grapes.” Hermia laughed. “And I have requested your papa’s favorites, as well as my own, of course. But I am most eager to try yours. Do remind me what yourutmostfavorite dish is.”
“Gingerbread!” Phoebe cried out eagerly.
“Yes, exactly! So I have requested that to be part of dessert. As for the rest… oh, you will have to wait and see.”
Phoebe’s face scrunched up, as if she found the prospect of waiting entirely unpleasant, but then it softened.
“Next, I spoke with Mrs. Nightgale to bring in some lovely silverware. My next task is to approach the head gardener and ask him to pluck some blooms from the garden. It will decorate the table a little and make the setting feel homier.”
“I like that,” Phoebe said. “Can I sit next to Papa?”
“I am certain you can.”
Just like that, the young girl scrabbled off the settee and went to relay the plan to her governess, who must have heard the whole thing.
Hermia watched her, something in her heart settling. She had been right; all the girl needed was some patience and knowing that someonewantedto listen to her.
She turned back to her list, hoping her plan worked, and that it would be the first of many dinners to come.
