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“I said, listen!” The sheer heightened sound that erupted from her aunt was so unlike anything that Hermione had heard before, and she whipped her head around, nearly falling into the rose bushes in surprise.
* * *
Antony heard the shout and came to a stop. It sounded like Mrs. Atkins though he had never thought that woman capable of such volume.
He had been walking through the garden all the morning, partly to walk off the headache he’d earned form his heavy night drinking with Fergus and partly to think on what his brother had said. He hadn’t come to any kind of conclusion when he heard the shout, yet he found his feet wandering toward the noise. He crept across some of the lawn, nearing the walled rose garden from which the cry had come. He peered through the gate, able to see that beyond some rose bushes Hermione and Mrs. Atkins were facing one another.
“I have never heard you shout so before.” Hermione was speaking practically in disbelief. Unable to tear himself away, but determined to know the truth about the shout, Antony didn’t declare his presence; he decided to stay hidden instead.
“Then consider it true testament to my fear for this family,” Mrs. Atkins said, stepping toward Hermione and taking her shoulders. “Need I remind you why you are doing this again? To protect Phoebe from the same fate your reputation suffered?”
Antony flinched at the words. Yes, he had risked Hermione’s reputation, but they all believed the secret had managed to stay with them. Surely there was no reason for anyone else at the ball to have known about their transgression or for any stain on Hermione’s character to be spread.
“You ask too much, Aunt. You and my father both do,” Hermione said with feeling. She went to turn around, perhaps intending to walk away, but Mrs. Atkins held her back.
Antony’s eyes rested on the side of Hermione’s face that he could see from his position pressed against the wall and peering through the iron gate. He had never seen her in this state before. There was anger, that couldn’t be denied, but perhaps there was fear too.
“It is really very simple,” Mrs. Atkins said, releasing Hermione and holding up her hands as though they were talking about arranging flowers or something equally menial.
“Simple? You really think that?” Hermione asked, scoffing.
“I am asking you to consummate your marriage; is that really so difficult to ask?” Mrs. Atkins said, folding her arms. The words stunned Antony so much that he leaned fully against the wall, needing it there for support. He strained more and more to listen to their words.
“For my father’s own end,” Hermione said sharply. “I cannot–”
“I am not having this discussion with you again,” Mrs. Atkins said sharply.What discussion?
“You have no choice in the matter,” Mrs. Atkins went on. “If you wish to protect your father from bankruptcy and ruination, you must make the marriage valid. Consummate your marriage, Hermione, as soon as you can.”
Hermione said nothing in reply. Antony was so shocked he walked away, not caring to hang around and hear any more of Mrs. Atkins’ orders. He stumbled across the pebbled pathway, slowly making his way around to the top terrace as his thoughts raced.
I was wrong about her.The realization was sudden and strong. He had believed that the bond he and Hermione had shared was a natural one, but he could not have been more wrong. She had been sent there to flirt with him, and charm him, just the same as any other lady he had ever met. It was all part of a trap to ensnare him into marriage, so that he would be compelled to fix her father’s financial problems.
“She is no better than the courtesans from the club,” he hissed the words under his breath, not wanting to believe them, yet finding it impossible to deny.
When he found the top terrace, it was not empty. Lady Phoebe and Fergus were sat there, hand in hand, with a maid watching nearby. When Antony approached, they dropped hands as though wary of being caught. Lady Phoebe looked rather upset to his mind, perhaps with Fergus comforting her, but they seemed to be trying to hide the matter.
“Antony, is something wrong?” Fergus asked as he went to walk past him.
“Very wrong, but I do not wish to talk about it,” Antony said, waving a hand in his brother’s direction.
“Very well,” Fergus accepted although he still stood to his feet and followed Antony with his gaze. “You might want to avoid the upstairs floor by the way; they’re still moving things.”
“What?” Antony asked, turning back so quickly in the doorway that he nearly hit his nose against the frame.
“Your Duchess’ things,” Fergus said, clearly reminding Antony of something he should have already been aware of. “This was the morning they were being taken into one of the family’s rooms, not the guests’ rooms, remember?”
The words made Antony reel. He stumbled back, hurrying through the doorway as quickly as he could. He ran through the corridor and up the stairs, taking them two at a time in his urgency to be on the top landing.
When he found the servants moving Hermione’s portmanteau, and the maids moving her clothes, Antony was tempted to order them all to stop. He hovered nearby, running his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands, fearing he’d pull them out in his anger.
She tricked me. She conned me. She never cared for me, and everything we ever shared was fake.
He knew he could order her things to be kept in the guest room. He could even apply to a solicitor by the end of the week to have an annulment put in place and have the marriage declared invalid, but there were problems to it. He and Hermione had been caught in a compromising situation, come what may, and neither of their reputations would recover if he made the marriage invalid.
He could also not cause such an evil to befall his family. Annulments and divorces may occasionally have happened, but those involved were often censured, and he could not bring that censure upon his own family. It could mean risking not only Fergus’ chance of a good marriage, but his status in the navy too. Then there was his mother, who could be ostracized by other ladies at events.I cannot do it. I am even more trapped than I realized!
He was stuck married to a woman who did not love him, and who had manipulated him into believing there could be something really special between them. She was even worse than Dianne.
“Where shall we put these?” one of the maid’s asked another maid as she held up papers.
“There is a writing desk in the Duchess’ new room; best put them there under a paperweight for now.” As the second maid answered, the two hurried off down the corridor toward the main chamber. When the first maid turned, one of the scraps of parchment fell out of her grasp and down to the floor.
The housekeeper overseeing the move bent down to pick up the parchment, but Antony was quicker. He picked it up first and was about to pass it to the housekeeper when his eyes caught the top of the parchment and he hesitated.
‘Guidelines for seducing a gentleman into marriage.’
Any doubts he had on Hermione trying to seduce him into marriage quickly faded away as he read all the guidelines, with his gaze resting on the final point with horror.
‘Number Six. Catch a man in a compromising position in public, and you will force his hand. He will have to marry you then.’
