Page 43 of His Duchess of Scandal (Brides of Scandal #1)

“Ha!” He laughed. “Nobody is free from this, not if they are attached to our names. Not from my side, not from your side. Branmere’s family must pay, and Your Grace, you ought to know this the most. Perhaps you can educate Lady Sibyl on your husband’s history?

The duel ruined my family, while Branmere remained unscathed.

He got to swan around as the notorious Duke of Branmere, the respected art curator. ”

Hermia’s eyes cut to her sister, hating how pale she was, how frightened she looked.

Hermia wanted nothing more than to go to her, to take her into her arms. She could see the wobble in her sister’s lower lip as she tried not to cry.

All I want to do is go to my sister .

But then she returned her attention to Lord Grenford.

“My sister is innocent in all of this,” she insisted. “She, most of all, does not deserve this sort of revenge, Lord Grenford. Please— please just let her return to the party, let her return to my other sister, and you will not again be bothered by the Wicklebys or the Branmeres.”

But she did not expect his eyes to fix on something behind her, forcing her gaze to flick over her shoulder.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of Isabella standing at the turn of the hedge wall. Her sister’s eyes were wide, taking in the scene, and she stepped forward protectively, as if wanting to go to Sibyl.

“Lord Grenford,” Isabella spoke up, “I believe you should step away from my sister. Heaven forbid that word spreads of you being a terrible bastard who does not know how to treat women right. Because I will make sure that that story circulates around the ton , unless you step back now.”

“Oh, Lady Isabella,” Lord Grenford drawled, his tone sending icy dread down Hermia’s spine.

“You are mistaken, for the ton have already said what they want to say about my name, about my family. I no longer care about status or reputation. The Duke of Branmere may have dragged his name out of the mud, but not all of us have been so lucky.”

Isabella looked towards Hermia in question. “I do not understand.”

“It is not for anyone else to understand,” Hermia said, looking at the Viscount.

But the two of them only made the man angrier. His expression contorted with ire, his mouth curling, but nothing could have prepared Hermia for when he reached for her younger sister’s skirt. The awful rip of fabric made her shudder, made her freeze for a moment.

“Stop,” she commanded.

“Oh—oh, dear Duchess , I will not .” Lord Grenford sneered her title, laughing darkly,. “Your father-in-law ruined my sister. Did you know that? It only seems fitting that I ruin a lady from your family.”

“Lord…” Her soft, weak voice tapered off at a hard glare from him.

But the Viscount only tore , and he tore hard .

Hermia let out a whimper.

“When the ton hears of how Lady Sibyl—the lady who holds out for love—has ruined herself with Lord Grenford, there will be an uproar, I am certain. And with such a torn skirt, I will not be questioned, no? Finally, the ton will believe that the Grenfords are the innocent party in all of this.”

“No,” Sibyl moaned. “ No, Lord Grenford. Please— please stop. Please— please. ”

“Lord Grenford,” Hermia almost sobbed, breaking apart at the sound of her sister’s pain. Heavens, she should not have had to plead in such a way. She should not have felt so much fear. “Please leave her out of this. Please .”

“Then shall I take you, Lady?—”

Hermia was in his face in an instant, her concern ebbing away long enough for her to raise her hand. She was not entirely in control of herself when she smacked him hard across the face.

Her hand connected with his face, and it snapped to the side.

“No one,” she seethed. “ No one, no matter how empathetic I am with their story, hurts my family. No one , do you hear me, Lord Grenford?”

But she did not anticipate her wrist being snagged in the harshest grip possible, sending a shiver of revulsion through her. Yet, revenge contorted his face.

Hermia wished to step out of his reach, but she could not. Not when he was gripping her so hard.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the Viscount. Hermia did not realize she had been released, saved by the newcomer, until she finally stumbled back into Isabella. But her eyes fell on the figure—on the man who had the Viscount pinned up against the hedge by a hand around his throat.

A snarl rippled through the maze, and Hermia’s eyes snapped to her husband—to Charles , who held the Viscount up, his hand tightening to a white-knuckled grip.

Despite her week of heartache, the sight of her husband rolling his neck in preparation for a fight sent a shiver through her.

Suddenly, the Duke of Branmere punched Lord Grenford hard enough to make him stagger.

“If you ever come near my family again,” Charles snarled, “near my wife, or my daughter, or even my sisters-in-law, or my homes, then I will destroy you, Grenford. You are not welcome near anything or anyone associated with me, and I do believe I have made that clear enough before.”

For a second, Hermia could only gape at him, at the sheer command he showed. Heat burst through her—heat and warmth , both sensual and affectionate at once. It was overwhelming for a moment, so much that she didn’t know what to do with it.

“Leave, Grenford. I will not warn you again,” Charles growled. “Leave my wife, and leave my sisters-in-law—leave us all alone.”

Hermia did not think that Lord Grenford would take heed, but his face paled as he fell back into the hedge. He nodded, silent and fearful, his eyes wide.

Charles jerked his head towards the exit, and Lord Grenford stumbled in that direction.

“Do not let me hear of your threats ever again,” Charles hissed, his gaze darkening as he made sure that the Viscount truly left.

Hermia grabbed Isabella, pulling her close and out of reach of the fleeing man. She noticed how Isabella trembled, but from the strong set of her sister’s jaw, she knew not to say anything.

As soon as the Viscount had left the hedge maze, Hermia rushed over to Sibyl, focusing on her fearful face rather than her torn skirt, at least for the moment, and pulled her into her arms.

“You are safe,” she soothed. “You are safe, Sibyl. Here, we are right with you. We came to find you.”

But her sister still trembled in her arms, and Hermia knew she would continue to do so for a while.

Charles approached and immediately shrugged off his tailcoat. “Here,” he offered. “Let her take it if she needs it. Lady Sibyl, anything you require is yours.”

Sibyl lifted her head slightly, looking at him as if half afraid, but Hermia held her securely, nodding gently.

As soon as the coat was offered, Sibyl took it, and Hermia and Isabella immediately wrapped it around their sister’s waist. They enveloped her in comfort and safety, both holding her.

Hermia’s gaze strayed to her husband. And although her heart ached terribly, she knew that she had to face this resolution.

“How did you know where we were?” The question left her lips in a breathless tone.

Charles’s voice was just as breathless. “How could I not? I went to your townhouse first, but I was also told by Levi where you would be. He heard about the garden party. I found Lady Redham, and she told me where you had gone to find Lady Sibyl. Again, Hermia, how could I not find you?”

The question felt so much deeper than it sounded, and Hermia could only gaze at him, her chest so tight that it hurt.

“I believe your friend is now causing a distraction, so there is no scandal,” Charles added. “You ought to thank her.”

Almost in a trance, Hermia nodded. “And you, too. I ought to thank you, too, Charles.”

He half scoffed. “You have nothing to thank me for.”

But his voice sounded so broken, and she saw how disheveled he was. She could not entirely ignore the dark circles beneath his eyes, nor the fact that he had forgone propriety. He was dressed so casually that she could not believe he had left his townhouse in such a state.

Yet he had—for her.

“Leave, Hermia,” Charles told her softly. “Leave the hedge maze so you may enjoy the remainder of the party. So your sisters may as well.”

And Hermia… well, how could she not be so persuaded? How could she not follow her husband’s advice when, after more than a week apart, he looked at her as though she had shattered his world?

Later that same night, once the fear had ebbed, Hermia approached her husband in the drawing room.

“You have waited here all evening?” she dared to ask.

Charles turned to her, surprise flickering across his face. “How could I not? I wanted to ensure that Lady Sibyl settled in safely.”

“She is,” Hermia assured him.

“And yourself?”

The question felt too loaded, the two of them alone in the drawing room.

“I am…” She hesitated. “I am not as safe, not without you.”

“I have been here the whole time, Hermia.”

“Except you have not been,” she whispered, feeling too vulnerable. “And even when I faced you in Branmere Manor, you were not there. Not recently, Charles.”

“I have.” Heavens, he sounded so choked up.

“I have, Hermia—or, at least, I have been as much as I can be.

And I… I wish I had shown it more. I-I have been afraid.

Goodness, I have been so scared. Yet, here you are, my wife, and I have missed you terribly.

Horribly. Heavens, I have not been able to focus in any capacity.

“Hermia, I have been so scared of becoming like my parents that I did not notice when I became like them. I have been afraid of letting you down, of letting my daughter down, so I held onto my duty and the pressure that I hated so much. Yet, at the same time—wretched time—it is a comfort because it was what I knew. Please forgive me, Hermia. Forgive me for pushing you away. Forgive me for my fears, for my wrongdoings. You were right, my Duchess, in thinking that something had blossomed between us. It had—no, it has . It resides right here.”

Charles pressed a hand to his chest, and Hermia let out a weak whimper.