Page 66 of His Duchess of Scandal
“I… I can be good.”
The confession came in such a timid whisper that Hermia ached for the girl. She said it so uncertainly, as if not quite believing it butwantingto.
Slowly, Phoebe lifted her head and brushed back the hair stuck to her tear-soaked face.
She sniffled again. “Papa ismean.”
“Your papa is… he is a tough man,” Hermia admitted. “He carries a great weight and responsibility. While I do not know the value or importance of the heirloom you played with, youdoknow it was rather naughty, do you not? And you knew it was not a toy?”
Phoebe nodded bashfully. “It is just that—just that he is so busy! I wanted him to take me out for a slice of apple cake, or whatever it is called, and he kept telling me he was busy. Busy, busy, busy, that is all Papa ever is.”
“I know,” Hermia said quietly. “I know, and I understand it hurts. My papa was always busy, too, but do you know what I did? I kept my composure to impress my papa when he was finally not busy, so he would know that, while he was not there, I was still being a good daughter. I wanted to show him a good example of my behavior.”
“Yes, but Papa isnevernot busy.”
Hermia took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “The men of our world often, so we could have good lives and toys, and pretty dresses. But he will only get busier if you damage things you are not supposed to touch. If you wish to play with a ball, you may wait for me. I might be visiting friends or my family, but I willalwaysreturn.”
Phoebe slowly blinked red-rimmed eyes at her. “Do you promise?”
“I promise. And… here, let me tell you a fun secret.” Hermia leaned in as if it was a great thing, coaxing her to do the same. “Soon enough, you will grow so much older that you will no longer wait for me to play with a ball. So now is our chance to do such things, instead of spending the afternoon shouting at your papa. Yes?”
“Yes,” Phoebe mumbled, nodding.
A beat passed.
Hermia wondered if she ought to say something else, but the little girl beat her to it by asking, “Can we go to the apple orchard now?”
And so Hermia took her along with her.
She found that she had done this quite a few times. Phoebe had accompanied her on visits to the kitchen to arrange dinner on a few nights, had instructed the stewards with her, and now this.
Perhaps I am teaching her more than I realize, Hermia mused as they discussed the tending of the orchard.
At some point, she could swear that she was being watched, and she let her gaze drift to one of the upper-floor windows.
A tall figure stood there, observing, but quickly moved out of sight as soon as she looked.
Chapter Eighteen
Notably, over the next two days, Charles was home more.
While he didn’t spend as much time with Phoebe as she perhaps wanted, Hermia noticed that he lingered more over breakfast, asked the staff about her well-being, and generally tried not to leave the house as much as he had in the countryside.
The tension lingered between Charles and Phoebe, and Hermia had gently suggested another dinner to smooth things over. However, Charles had refused. They all knew family dinners made matters worse.
And so she planned her gown for a different kind of dinner, one hosted at Lord and Lady Atherton’s house, an influential marquess and marchioness who had recently acquired a large gambling hell and were celebrating lavishly.
“Did I tell you I do business with Lord Atherton?” Charles asked her as they entered the grand estate.
Hermia huffed, shaking her head. “No, but seeing as you do not speak to me a great deal, I would not know who you do business with and with whom you do not, so it makes no difference to me.”
Charles only scowled at her and led her deeper into the house.
Chandeliers illuminated the grand foyer, which was awash with silvers and grays—all polished, cool tones. It led into a long, narrow dining room that was flooded with candlelight. Laughter and guests already filled the space, not yet seated.
Next door, in the drawing room, more guests drank champagne and caught up on that week’s gossip, no doubt.
Hermia tried to listen out for her name, but she thought her sisters had been quite right. Perhaps she really was no longer the subject of gossip.
