Page 42 of His Duchess of Scandal
“No,” Hermia bit out, rising from her seat, her voice low and shaking with fury. “Whatyoudid was out of proportion. And you can spare me the courtesy of protecting my eyes,Your Grace. You already exposed everything else.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Her gown swept after her like a second insult as she strode out of the room.
Her shoes clicked loudly on the floor as she stalked out, uncaring about the food or the dinner plans she had ruined despite her wanting to bring her new family together.
Barely past the door, she heard footsteps following behind her. Then, a hand wrapped around her elbow, spinning her around.
The Duke stepped closer to her, his eyes flashing with ire. “What do you think you are doing, leaving the dinner table in such a way? Do you not see the example that will be set for Phoebe?Youplanned this. I was very content to eat while I worked, but you?—”
“You may have been, but your daughter was not!” Hermia shouted, before lowering her voice, almost hissing. “What sort of example areyousetting for her? That it is all right to get used to lonely dinners where she doubts you even know her favorite fruit?”
“Of course I know it,” he answered. “It is…”
She saw how he caught himself, how he racked his brain for some old memories, and how he came up blank.
“That does not matter now.”
“Except it does,” she insisted. “Because for Phoebe—for anyone—to be known is to be loved. To have her father recall her favorite things is to know she is noticed. Right now, she does not even think you know enough about her to see her into herdebut. Your daughter believes you do not care to get to know her, beyond giving orders.”
“That is utter nonsense, and I am certain Phoebe knows that,” he shot back. “I told you, I do not need to be lectured about my own child.”
“Except maybe you do,” Hermia countered, taking a step forward.
She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, so tall was he. Her breath caught at how intimidating he was, yet she was not afraid.
Instead, a part of her thought she liked it.
“Maybe you do, because that child has been yearning for her father, and it has taken me entering your lives for you to see it.”
When he only stared down at her, speechless, she said, “I want to see the painting.”
“I already said no.”
“What are you so afraid of?” Hermia prodded. “You will keep your daughter at arms’ length, you will not speak with me beyond necessity, and you hide the painting from its very subject despite it already being seen by those who have likely forgotten it. Do you know how that feels? To not even know what they have, or have not, seen of me?”
“Do you know how it feels,” the Duke drawled, “to want privacy, yet have such a personal thing displayed in front of the ton? Do you not think that my denying you is me holding onto that last shred of privacy? I do not do it to be petty, Duchess. I do it because if I can stop at least one person from having the right to view my work, then I will.”
“So you are punishing your daughter for her prank by ignoring her?”
“I am not ignoring her.”
“You are,” she scoffed. “As you have mostly ignored me since my arrival, unless I have approached you or forced you into conversation.”
The Duke’s jaw tightened as he closed the gap between them. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she was reminded of that sultry look he had given her that night.
What did you see in the candlelight that made you want to paint me? What did you see, and why does it differ from now?
It was a foolish thought, especially when she realized how he was looking at her mouth now.
His hand rose to her face, fingers already curled as if wanting to cup it, when footsteps hurried into the hallway.
Phoebe emerged from the dining hall, her face red and tight.
“Are you arguing because of me?” she demanded. “Because I do not want that! I want Hermia to be happy, Papa. Please don’t argue because of me.”
Hermia gazed at the girl’s stubborn fierceness, her lips parted in surprise, but the Duke only made a quiet, irritated noise in the back of his throat and stepped back. He gave Phoebe a quick glance and a nod, as if to acknowledge her words, before storming off.
“He is always like that,” Phoebe sighed.
