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“It is difficult to explain,” Hermione whispered back. With these simple words, she felt Phoebe reach toward her under the cover of the dining table and take her hand. Hermione clung to it, needing the warmth of her sister’s grasp. With her other hand, she pushed her plate away, losing all interest in food for good.
“I have never seen you this way,” Phoebe continued on, still whispering. “Not even after what happened at the church.” Hermione winced at the recollection of that day.
To her mind, the two days were entirely different. At the church, she hadn’t been heartbroken. Her faith in the man she was to marry had been broken, her trust and hope all smashed to smithereens. Not on this occasion. Today it felt like someone had sliced a cut in her heart, and it could not stop bleeding.
What made it even worse was that she felt she deserved the cut. Had she not done exactly what Antony accused her of? She had tricked him into marriage.
“It’s best we do not talk about it, Phoebe,” Hermione said quietly. Phoebe still turned her body a little on the chair toward Hermione.
“How can I not when you are in this state?” she asked with pain in her voice. “There must be something I can do to help.”
“There is nothing anyone can do now, I fear,” Hermione swallowed as she said the words, holding back more tears. “The only thing I can do, I suppose, is to figure out what kind of life I will lead from this moment on.”
“You’re not making any sense to me, Hermione.”
“I know,” Hermione said miserably, offering a sad sort of smile. She now faced living a life in the shadows behind the man that she loved. How was she supposed to be happy with that life?
“Lady Phoebe,” Officer Stenham called for Phoebe’s attention. As Hermione felt her sister’s hand slip from her grasp, she felt very alone indeed. “What do you say to a walk into town later today?”
“I would be delighted,” Phoebe said excitedly, bouncing just once in her seat. Hermione didn’t miss the way that her assent had made a smile appear on Officer Stenham’s features.
“You will take a chaperone, dear,” the Dowager Duchess said from the head of the table.
“Mother,” Officer Stenham pleaded, wincing with the reminder.
“What? I’m your mother. It is my job to look out for you,” she said with a smile. There was something unsaid that made all around the table fall quiet. Hermione grimaced as she sat back in the chair, knowing what they were all thinking. The last time a Stenham man had been left alone in the company of one of the Rogers sisters, he’d ended up married because of it.
“Well, with the young ones going out, I wonder if I could beg a moment of your time later this morning, Your Grace?” Rufus said, turning his attention on the Duchess.
“Oh, how lovely. What for?” she said.
“A matter of business I would be grateful for your thoughts on.” He spoke with charm, but the words showed Hermione exactly what he intended to do.He is going to ask for money.
Hermione stiffened in her chair. She might not be able to talk to Antony about what had truly happened between them, but there was still one way in which she could protect him. She could keep her father far away from his money.
“Yes, of course,” the Duchess said with a smile. “Come to the drawing room at ten o’clock. I have to say, my brains are rarely picked on such occasions as these. For business! Makes me feel quite special.”
Hermione smiled a little at the Duchess’ innocence. It made her even more determined to stand between her and Rufus, who was now looking across the table like a cat staring at a mouse, ready to jump and make the mouse its prey.
* * *
“Do not do this,” Hermione pleaded with her father. She was standing at the bottom of the staircase as he descended, ready to go to his meeting with the Dowager Duchess.
“I am not having this conversation yet again,” Rufus said tiredly, casting a gaze to the sky in frustration.
“You have already seen that the Duchess likes to be spendthrift. She will not give away money easily.”
“You think I haven’t noticed that?” Rufus said in a harried whisper as he walked past Hermione. She hurried after him, following him through the corridor toward the drawing room. “I will simply have to be…innovativein the way I ask for the money.”
“Innovative? We’re talking about money, not a work of art here!”
“You think this plot doesn’t have art in it?” Rufus stopped walking, turned back to her and laughed. The sound of the laugh was surprisingly cruel and made Hermione lift her chin higher, determined not to be quelled by the rather frightening figure her father had become. “It took a long time to get you to this stage, Hermione.”
“Me? None of this was for me, was it?” she said, speaking so fast and quietly that her father appeared not to have heard her. He just raised a hand, cutting her off from saying any more words.
“I am nearly there,” he said harshly, shaking the hand with his statement. “One more conversation, and I will have the money in my grasp. No more debts. No more problems. I will be free.”
“And what makes you think you will not gamble all of this money away as well?” Hermione said tartly. Rufus took a step toward her, but she was prepared for it and jumped back two steps. She had already felt his grasp on her wrist more than once; she was not prepared to feel it again.
