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“How do you know that?” Fergus said kindly, but despite the soft tone, Antony felt his anger tense his body.
“I have seen the right woman doesn’t exist, Fergus. I do not wish to go down that route again.”
Chapter Three
“Our father is not a subtle man, is he?” Phoebe asked as she helped Hermione to unpack in her chamber.
“Not remotely,” Hermione agreed, casting her eyes to heaven in exasperation. “The poor Duchess, I was startled to see she didn’t take note of our father’s impertinence.”
“She seems a very sweet lady.”
“Very sweet,” Hermione agreed. “That was why our father’s rudeness upset me so.” She turned to add more gowns to the closet, amazed at the sheer space inside the wardrobe. The Dowager Duchess had sent a maid to do the job for them, but Hermione had sent the woman away again, craving some privacy with her sister.
The room she had been given to stay in was grander than her own back home, but their own house was not what it used to be. Where opulent décor and fine furniture used to be, there was now old-fashioned furniture in desperate need of updating and missing furniture pieces that had been sold to help pay their father’s debts. The room she now stood in felt a world away from what her own home had become.
The bed itself was an over-the-top affair with so many blankets and pillows Hermione thought she might suffocate in it. The duck-egg blue colors were matched by the rococo style settee at the far end of the room and the curtains that were draped in front of the windows.
“So, do you still find the place a little creepy?” Hermione asked, turning to her sister. Phoebe wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room, her eyes darting between the stone window frames and the plaster molded ceiling. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” Hermione giggled. “It is not so bad.”
“I beg to differ,” Phoebe sighed as she passed her sister the last gown. Before Hermione could try to comfort Phoebe anymore on the subject, there was a sound beyond the closed chamber door. “What’s that?”
“Footsteps, I think,” Hermione said, listening as the fast patter of steps hurried up the corridor. When they reached her door, there was no knock of warning, and the door was merely flung open, revealing Cordelia beyond. “Aunt, what is wrong?” Hermione asked, watching as her aunt blustered forward with flushed cheeks.
“The window– take a look. Hurry!” she urged, waving her hands madly.
Phoebe was the first one to reach the window and peer beyond the curtains. “It’s a carriage,” she said, pressing her face to the glass.
Hermione felt the curiosity burn inside of her. Despite knowing that trying to trick a man into marriage was awful, she wanted to know just what he looked like. She hurried to her sister’s side, just as Cordelia did as well, and the three women gazed out of the glass.
Far below them on the pebble driveway was a tall black carriage. When the door opened, a young man stepped down, tilting his face up enough that in the moonlight they could see a glimpse of his features. With brown hair coiffed stylishly large eyes, and rounded features, he had a charismatic deportment.
“That must be him,” Cordelia said excitedly. “The Duke!”
That is the Duke of Benson?
Hermione couldn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that rippled in her chest. Whilst he appeared pleasant looking, she felt no attraction, none at all. Involuntarily, her hand lifted to the locket she always wore round her neck and clutched tightly to it.
“Hermione, it is your first glimpse of your future husband. What do you think?” Cordelia giggled, full of animation.
“I…” Hermione struggled for words as she watched the man turn away. He was talking to someone else who stepped down from the carriage, a man dressed in poor clothes who may well have been a footman. “I do not know.”
“I think he’s very handsome,” Phoebe said in a sing-song voice as she pressed her cheek against the glass.
“Do you?” Hermione asked with a small smile. Phoebe pulled her face back off the glass and lowered her gaze, blushing. “You do not need to feel embarrassed, Phoebe. It is only natural to be impressed by a gentleman’s looks.” Hermione wished she could say the same for herself.
Well… perhaps I could learn in time to find him attractive?
She had to hope it was the case, for both hers and Phoebe’s sakes, or they’d be packed off to live as spinsters together.
“We must begin our plans tonight,” Cordelia said, hurrying away from the window, back toward the door.
“Tonight? Aunt, no!” Hermione flicked her head away from the window and chased her aunt across the room. “We have retired for the night, as has the Dowager Duchess. To make an introduction now would be rude indeed! Abominably so.”
“When it comes to ensnaring a man in marriage, Hermione, we cannot worry so much about propriety,” Cordelia said with mischief as she reached for the handle.
“Aunt, listen to yourself!” Hermione pleaded as she placed a foot against the door, jamming it and preventing it from opening. “Do you not see the error of talking so? I refuse to be a part of this. I will be introduced to the Duke tomorrow at a normal hour, not in the depths of night.”
“Nonsense. You are too proper for your own good sometimes. Now, wait here.” Cordelia pulled the door open, shoving Hermione’s foot out of the way.
