Page 64 of His Duchess of Scandal
“I am older than you,” Sibyl pointed out, but Alicia merely dismissed her as if it did not matter. “But Hermia, you did not answer all my questions about your marriage.”
At that, Alicia fixed Hermia with a searching look.
Hermia immediately looked away, as if noticing and choosing to say nothing.
It was strange. Usually, Alicia or Isabella would push for answers. While Isabella liked gossip, Alicia merely wanted to consider all sides of an argument or a situation.
Now, Isabella looked mildly curious, as if she wanted to tone down her interest, while Sibyl’s eyes were wide with intrigue.
“My marriage is like any other,” Hermia allowed. “Content.”
“That is all? Your Duke simply makes youcontent?”
He makes me far less and far more at the same time.
“Content is good,” Isabella said, catching her eye. The two of them hadn’t always agreed, but somehow Hermia knew her sister understood. “Content is far better than other things.”
And yet,contentwas a far cry from how Charles truly made her feel. Hermia simply was unable to put it into words.
Josephine’s words from two days ago echoed in her mind.
“He wants you too much and does not know how to express it. From where I am sitting, it looks as though you want something more from your convenient husband.”
The thought was so ludicrous that Hermia pushed it out of her mind.
Perhaps beneath the blanket of red wine and a secret party where they could be Aphrodite and Ares, he had wanted her. But he wantedthatversion of her, not this one.
Chapter Seventeen
“Phoebe, we have scarcely been back a full day, and you are already causing trouble.”
Hermia froze as soon as she stepped into Branmere Manor. Immediately, her heart sped up.
What has happened now?
She hurried to where the voices came from—Phoebe’s playroom.
“Truly, you are testing my patience with this nonsense.” Charles’s voice was clipped.
Hermia quickened her steps when she heard the stomp of a foot.
“Well, Hermia would not yell at me!” Phoebe shouted.
“I am not yelling,” Charles gritted out, sounding as though his patience was wearing thin. “I am not yelling, Phoebe. I am trying to make you understand that you cannot keep doing this. This was an heirloom, not a ball.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Phoebe cried. “You keep so many things hidden! How do I know what I can and cannot play with?”
“Do not get wise with me,” Charles hissed, right as Hermia burst into the room, but he was too busy scolding his daughter to notice her. “You know full wellwhat you can and cannot play with becauseit is all here?—”
“Charles.”
The sound of his name on her lips made his spine stiffen.
He spun around to face her.
“This is all your fault,” he accused. “You have been too kind with her, and now she likely believes she can do as she pleases without consequences.”
“She is a little girl,” Hermia reasoned, softening her voice, not giving in to the urge to snap at him.
