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“Are you sure I cannot persuade you to distract yourself from the strife your new wife has brought you?”
Antony threw the cards down on the table. He’d had enough. He stood to his feet and turned, facing the courtesan. She clearly thought she had made a customer of him for she was smiling widely. For a brief moment, Antony imagined what it could have been like to see Hermione in her place, with those green eyes staring up at him longingly. He could picture exactly what he would do with her, take her to the nearest bedroom and make love to her at last, hearing her moan his name with her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands clawing at his back in pleasure.
“I am leaving,” he said, turning and walking away from the courtesan. She was so stunned that she didn’t follow after him. Antony grabbed his jacket on the way out and hurried out of town, aware that darkness was falling now. “Why did I even go there?”
It seemed he was destined to a life of misery now, married to a woman he could never bed, and yet he couldn’t be unfaithful to her either, knowing he would never forgive himself for it.
* * *
As dinner was finished, Hermione was aware of people returning to the drawing room to better see the stars on the clear night. There were rumors that shooting stars had been seen the night before, making the gentlemen reluctant to stay behind in the dining room for their coffee, and instead they hurried to the drawing room with the others. Well, all except Hermione. She stayed in the dining room, staring at the empty place where Antony should have been sitting.
“He will not appear, you know.” The Dowager Duchess’ voice made Hermione spin round, surprised to see the Duchess walking toward her from the doorway.
“I am sorry, Your Grace?”
“Call me Rose; we are family now, dear,” Rose said, taking her hand. Hermione took it, surprised by how badly she clung to it.
“Rose, thank you,” Hermione said with a small smile. “What was it you were saying?”
“You are staring at my son’s chair so intently; it is as though you expect him to appear out of thin air!” Rose said with a laugh, gesturing toward it.
“Maybe I do,” Hermione said with sadness, looking to the chair. “I guess I fear if he is not here, where is he?” She hadn’t voiced her concerns yet, not to anyone, but he had been gone for so long that she was beginning to suspect that he had to be at another’s house.
Maybe he has a mistress?
“You remind me of someone,” Rose said softly, earning Hermione’s gaze another time.
“Who?” Hermione asked, aware Rose was using the connection of their hands to draw her toward the window that overlooked the estate.
“Me,” Rose said smiling. “When I first married Antony’s father, I stared at empty spaces with the same longing.” The mere words pained Hermione. “Here, sit down, dear; there is something I wish to tell you.” Hermione abided by the Duchess’ wish and sat in the window seat with Rose sitting beside her.
“When I married, things were not easy at first. After a lifetime of being married, I have earned a little wisdom from it.”
“I would be grateful for any advice,” Hermione said, lifting her eyes to meet the Duchess’. She smiled kindly back at her.
“No marriage is easy throughout its course. There are ups and downs, trials as well as the happy moments. What matters is how you handle the downs,” Rose said with gravity.
“I fear this is a trial to our marriage that Antony will not forgive me for,” Hermione said quietly. She could tell Antony had not informed his mother about what he had discovered, otherwise the Duchess would probably have spurned Hermione by now.
“Forgiveness is easier than we think it is,” Rose said, turning her body a little so she could look outside to the stars, straining to see those that might fly by. “When I married, I had to persuade my husband that I loved him, not his money.”
“That sounds familiar,” Hermione confessed with a sigh, turning so that she too could look out the window at the stars. The night sky was dappled with white flecks, but she couldn’t see a single shooting star.
“Antony has more reason than most to fear it,” Rose’s words made Hermione snap her gaze back toward her.
“What do you mean?”
“I fear Antony will never tell you himself, but I think it important that you know something of it,” Rose said, breathing deeply. “I hope he will forgive me for breaking his confidence, yet it is the best route to his happiness. I am sure of it. Antony was betrothed once before; you may have heard of that part. What few people know is how the betrothal came to an end.”
“How?” Hermione asked, prompting Rose on.
“His betrothed, it seemed, was persuaded into the match by her father who wanted a connection for their family. Whilst Antony was falling for her, she felt nothing for him. On Antony’s birthday, shortly before the wedding was due to take place, the young lady ran away. Well, she eloped with the groom from our stable. Last we heard, the two were married in Gretna Green.”
Hermione couldn’t find words. “Your hand has gone very stiff in mine, dear,” Rose said worriedly.
“I… I am just shocked,” Hermione said, stammering. “Antony never said anything.”
“Would you find it an easy thing to talk of?” Rose asked with a soft tone.
