Page 58 of His Duchess of Scandal
Hermia panicked for a moment. She was very good with children, but this was uncharted territory. This was a little girl baring her vulnerabilities and putting her in a spot to listen, even if she could not say much in return.
“He never wants to speak about my future, or my mama, or you, or himself,” Phoebe went on. “No wonder we never dine together. I might ask him if the grass is green just to hear an answer.”
The mockery and bitterness should not have been so evident in a ten-year-old’s voice, yet hearing it broke Hermia’s heart a little.
Phoebe spoke so matter-of-factly, but there was a pain that she hid far too well for a girl so young.
Heavens, how lonely had Branmere Hall, as well as the townhouse, been for her?
Hermia already had an idea after finding out that the girl dined alone often, but Phoebe would have lost her mother only to watch her father slowly disappear, even if he was still right there.
Perhaps the worst grief was that of losing somebody one could still see. Somebody who was, effectively, choosing to melt into the background.
“Has your papa ever told you why he does not speak of your mother?” Hermia asked carefully.
Phoebe nodded. “He says I am too young. But he said that when I was younger, and now I am ten. Other girls my age already know about their mothers! Why can everybody else know, but not me?”
“I understand,” Hermia said softly. “Phoebe, I am certain that your mama was a wonderful lady. While I do not know why your father has not told you about her, I am certain there is a good reason. But I am more certain that she would be proud of the young lady you are growing into. Do you know how I know this?”
Phoebe pouted as she continued to write, but her eyes eventually rose to Hermia’s. “No.”
“BecauseIam proud of you, and I have not even known you for a month. So if I can feel this proud of you so soon, then I am certain your mama did.”
Hermia was not quite prepared for how much hope filled Phoebe’s eyes, or for how the little girl threw her arms around her before sitting back down.
“Thank you,” Phoebe mumbled. “I think I will have to write you another thank-you note.”
Hermia laughed, breaking the tension. “There is absolutely no need for that. Your first note is already very special. And… for what it is worth, Phoebe, I do not think your father will disregard your note if you write him one. He might even feel honored that you thought of him.”
Phoebe seemed to be considering that very seriously before she nodded, her lips pursed. “Maybe you are right. Will you help me write one for him?”
Hermia leaned over to help her, but in her mind, she wrote Charles her own thank-you note: a thank you for saving her from exile to France with her aunt, a thank you for saving her from her parents’ clutches, a thank you for allowing her to visit with her sisters, and a thank you for bringing her into his life when it seemed so highly coveted and intricately hidden away.
And as she and Phoebe finished writing the note before they headed to the library to read Phoebe’s book of fairytales, shethought she would thank him most of all for introducing her to Phoebe.
Whatever would happen between her and Charles, she was already getting to know his daughter as a spirited yet lonely girl who craved her father’s attention.
No matter what, Hermia was a part of Phoebe’s life now, and she silently vowed to see the two of them make amends. She would bring noise to Phoebe’s silent world, and she would find a way to bring companionship to Charles.
Why had he been hiding himself away? What did he do in that locked room not far from their chambers?
The thoughts haunted her as she read with Phoebe and tried to come up with the next part of her plan to reconcile the family.
If Branmere Hall was full of physical and emotional locked doors, Hermia would be the key, and she would let the light in every room.
Chapter Fifteen
“Ihave heard glorious things about Branmere Hall, but to actually see its splendor is quite another thing.”
Josephine tipped her head back to look up at the high ceiling, taking in the walls and the decorative wallpaper. She peered into each room she passed, humming with pleasure.
“You are most lucky, Hermia,” she said. “And to think I brought this upon you.”
Hermia pointedly ignored the knowing look in her friend’s eyes. “Phoebe, you must bring Thomas along with you to the conservatory. We are having tea in there. You may show him the etiquette I have been teaching you.”
“And then I can teach him,” Phoebe insisted.
As they walked down the hallway, Phoebe and Josephine’s toddler, Thomas, walked side-by-side, flanked by Miss Ternan and Miss Halloway, Thomas’s governess.
