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Antony had stood from the table as soon as the wedding breakfast was finished and was slowly doing the rounds with his guests, thanking them all for coming. His gaze kept slipping back to Hermione where she sat at the table, rather meekly poking at a slice of the wedding cake with a fork, though he hadn’t seen her take a single bite. Actually, he hadn’t seen her eat much of the breakfast either, and the thought that she could be harming herself by not eating properly worried him intensely.
After thanking some friends for coming, Antony decided it was time to talk to Hermione. He had just made a vow to protect her, in sickness and in health. Even if he didn’t intend to keep all the vows, he was certainly going to keep that one.I can never let any harm come to her.
He rounded the table, walking toward her, intent on asking her why she was not eating when he saw her fiddling with something on her wrist. There was a bracelet there he had not remembered paying attention to before that morning. It was in the same place as where her bruise had been before. She adjusted the bracelet now, fussing with it a little, as though trying to cover something up.
He realized with horror that there could well be a fresh bruise there. He was about to walk to her and pull back the bracelet when someone stepped between them.
“You Grace,” the Earl of Branigan said, outstretching his hand. “I wish to offer my congratulations.”
“Of course,” Antony fixed a smile in place that he did not feel. He didn’t doubt that the Earl was overwhelmingly pleased by the marriage. Many such gentlemen had wished to trick him into marrying their daughters, and even if Hermione wasn’t one of them, the Earl was clearly thrilled.
“What a morning it has been,” Lord Branigan said with delight as he gestured to the wedding breakfast around them.
Antony followed the gesture, looking between the happy faces that were at the tables. Many were indeed joyous, including Mrs. Atkins and Rose who were sat together talking and laughing. On the other side of the room, standing between the displays of flowers that had been put up for the occasion, Fergus and Lady Phoebe were talking together. To Antony’s mind, the two were standing closer together than usual, and Fergus’ hand looked inches from taking Lady Phoebe’s. The latter had such a blush on her cheeks that she was turning bright red.
The thought made Antony flick his gaze back to Hermione, remembering the blush he had caused so many times in her cheeks when he had been flirting with her. That blush was nowhere to be seen at this moment. She was rather pale as she prodded at the wedding cake.
“If you would excuse me, Lord Branigan,” Antony said with ease. “I’m going to return to my new bride.”
“Before you do, Your Grace, I was wondering if I could ask a little favor,” Lord Branigan said, stepping easily into the way and blocking Antony’s path.
“What is that?” he asked, barely paying attention. He was far too busy staring over Lord Branigan’s shoulder at Hermione. She was sitting tall in her seat, rather like an ornament, fine and beautiful, untouchable by hurt. He knew her better than that though. The Hermione he knew had more emotion to her than that, more passion. She was hurting and hiding it.
“I wondered if you’d be able to see your way to a small loan,” Lord Branigan said, lifting his hand and making a small sign in the air with his fingers. “Just a little one, you understand, but something to help us out. Now we are family, after all, and family takes care of family.”
I suppose so.Antony thought with grumbling reluctance. Lord Branigan’s words reminded him why so many men pushed their daughters under his nose. He would have half accused Lord Branigan of orchestrating the marriage for this point entirely, just to get a loan, had it not been for all that had passed between Antony and Hermione. No other woman had argued with him so; there was no charm or trap there. She had been honest with him.
“All loans to friends go through my mother,” Antony said easily, looking up from Lord Branigan and back to Hermione. “After the breakfast, you must speak to her about it. She oversees the accounts after the steward and myself. If there is anything spare, she will be in a position to tell you of it.”
“I see,” Lord Branigan seemed more than a little disappointed by the idea, looking across the room toward where Rose sat with Mrs. Atkins.
“If you would excuse me,” Antony said with ease and walked around Lord Branigan, eager not to be stopped again. When he finally reached Hermione’s side, he pulled out his chair and sat close to her, pointing down at the plate as he earned her gaze. “Care to tell me why you are not eating?” he asked.
“I am just not in the mood for cake,” she said simply. “It feels like something to eat when you are celebrating.” She pushed the plate away. Antony stopped the plate from going far and pushed it back to her.
“You need to eat, Hermione,” he said softly. He had no intention of using any formal address for her now. She was Hermione to him, and she would always be.
“I will eat more on one condition,” she said, turning in her chair to face him.
“What is that?”
“Come to me tonight,” she asked. The request startled him so much that he sat straight in his chair, even leaning back a little to get further away from her.
“Hermione,” he said, looking around to ensure their guests were far enough away not to hear them. Most now stood from their seats and were gathering in groups to chat, giving Antony and Hermione the privacy that they needed. “That is not a good idea.”
“Why not? Is it not expected of newly married couples?” she asked, shrugging. She picked up her wine glass and focused on the liquid for a minute. “Before a week ago, I would have thought me making such a request would have made you quite happy indeed.”
“That was before we were wed. It can’t happen again now,” he said sternly, forcing her to look at him once more.
“Then come to my room for a different reason,” she asked, placing down the wine glass and reaching out to take his hand. With her touch on him, he could feel his resistance slipping away.
He gazed at her, lost in her beauty. The gown she had worn truly was spectacular, accenting her slim curves and complimenting the green of her eyes wonderfully. Her hand in his was warm too, making him long to lift that hand to his face and kiss the back.
“Why?” he asked.
“I wish to speak to you,” she said softly. “Away from anyone that may overhear us.” She cast a quick gaze around them at their guests.
“No one can hear us now.”
“I mean I have things to tell you that I wish to tell you when we are alone,” she said with feeling. “Please, Your Grace, please come to see me tonight.”
“You called me Your Grace again,” he said, preparing to disentangle his fingers from hers.
“Then Antony…” her use of his name and her pause made him hesitate, holding onto her hand for a little longer. “Please, I am begging you.” Her words made him look at her, seeing the green eyes staring back up at him, pleading with him. “Please come to see me tonight?”
