Page 81 of His Duchess of Scandal
“It is.”
Neither of them sounded convinced, but Hermia was already rising to her feet. “I will stay with her. In case the storm persists through the night.”
But as she stood up, her eyes fell to the bulge in his breeches. The dark material could not hide everything.
Her face turned red, her fingers curling into a loose fist. She hurriedly moved back.
As she left the room, Charles could swear he heard her cursing under her breath.
Following suit, Charles left the room to venture to the other spare chamber. He collapsed on the bed , aching and burning with need.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They barely knew what to say to one another the following day as they left the cottages to return to Branmere Manor.
Hermia’s thoughts would not stop straying to the taste of Charles’s tongue, the heat of his mouth, the feel of his hard chest. And—Heavens, the sight of his arousal straining against his breeches…
It had left her breathless and too flushed for rational thought.
They eventually pulled up to the townhouse and were greeted by Mrs. Andrews, who had been waiting in the entrance hall, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Your Graces, you have returned late,” she noted.
Charles nodded quickly. “We were delayed.”
Mrs. Andrews looked between them before fixing her gaze on Hermia. “Your Grace, your lady’s maid is waiting to prepare you for Lord and Lady Connolly’s ball. We do not want you to be late.”
“No, of course,” Hermia said, sparing Charles another glance before hurrying inside to ready herself for the ball that had completely slipped her mind in the excitement of their visit.
“You look beautiful.”
Hermia’s head snapped up at the unexpected compliment. She didn’t know why, but the way he looked her over right as they entered the ballroom, disarming her right then and there, threw her off kilter.
Her eyes lingered on him—his dark tailcoat, his deep, navy cravat that complemented his black shirt. His waistcoat was similarly dark, adorned with navy thread. It accentuated the blue of his eyes.
Calling him handsome in return felt empty, a compliment in exchange for his. So she bit her tongue and merely nodded her thanks. She still did not know how to navigate the hot desire thrumming between them since the night before.
At least this time, he did not avoid her after their kiss. This time, the uncertainty was shared.
But as soon as they entered the ballroom, the whispers picked up.
“I heard that Lady Farnshaw asked them about an heir and none of them could answer properly,” one lady whispered.
“Why did His Grace choose a spinster for a wife? The circumstances are most unusual,” a gentleman murmured.
Hermia kept her eyes fixed on the back of the ballroom, trying to ignore their questions.
So much speculation about a private matter.
“Did you see the painting?”
Her spine stiffened at that question, and Charles tightened his arm around hers.
He knew, he heard, and she had no doubt that he would stand up for her should anybody confront them. Just as he had with Lady Farnshaw.
Hermia felt confident, her husband a wall by her side, as they walked towards their hosts, who greeted them pleasantly, if not for the questions in their eyes. Still, it was a small blessing that they did not pry.
Looking around the ballroom, she finally saw two faces in the crowd that, besides Charles, could provide safety.
