How to Catch a Duke in Ten Days by Violet Hamers

Chapter Eighteen

Hermione was trying to abate her tears as she jumped to her feet. Antony hurried to stand too, but they both knew they were too late, looking at one another with equally wide eyes full of shock. She straightened her skirt and dropped the silk to the floor as he snatched his jacket up off the floor.

It was all they could manage as the sounds of three sets of footsteps walking through the bookshelves got nearer. Within seconds, three faces appeared: the Dowager Duchess, Rufus and Cordelia.

Hermione was horrified. Her body was still thrumming with the excitement of what she and Antony had shared. She wanted more than anything to return to the rug and share more with him, to see what else they could do together, but that moment was now long gone. They had been caught, with Hermione’s hair falling out of its updo and her skirt ruffled, with Antony at her side halfway through putting his jacket on and adjusting his trousers. It hardly took a wild leap of the imagination to see they had been doing something that they shouldn’t.

The three faces looking back at them held equal expressions of shock. Hermione had to give one thing to her father– he had to be a good actor to look so shocked by her doing exactly what he had asked of her.

That’s not why I did it! She had wanted to be with Antony in that way; that was the only reason. Her attempt to save him from her had been too slow.

“What in God’s name am I seeing before me?” Rufus asked, stepping forward first. Cordelia covered her face with both hands and turned away, apparently unable to look at the two of them. The Dowager Duchess was so uncertain on her feet that she lifted a hand and rested it on the bookshelves nearby. “You dare to damage my daughter’s honor in this way?” Rufus said, addressing Antony alone.

Hermione turned to Antony, still blinking madly to try and stop her tears. He had abandoned trying to get the jacket on properly at all now, with one arm in the sleeve. He would not turn to look at Hermione and held Rufus’ gaze instead.

“Nothing happened. It is not what it looks like,” he said hurriedly.

Not what it looks like? It is exactly what it looks like! She was amazed he was even attempting to deny it.

“Antony…” the Dowager Duchess spoke up. “You have tarnished a young lady’s reputation.”

“I have done no such thing,” he said quickly, dropping the jacket off his arm and holding his hands up in surrender. “You three are the only ones to see us like this.”

Hermione said nothing, she kept quiet, uncertain how to get Antony out of this mess. “You expect me to go back to that ball and keep this a secret?” Rufus asked. “You expect me to permit my daughter’s virtue to be so damaged and for no repair to be made?”

Hermione turned away, feeling the tears now threatening to fall even more than before. She breathed deeply, knowing how erratic her breathing had become. I am not virtuous or innocent. My reputation is already spoiled, and Antony should know that.

“Father, please–”

“Do not say a word, Hermione,” he ordered, waving a hand in the air. She turned back to see he was unusually purple in the face, either from drinking at the party or putting on his act of anger remarkably well. Cordelia behind him had turned back now, shaking her head as though she couldn’t believe the proof of her eyes. “Your Grace, I demand retribution for the damage you have done to my daughter.”

“I have done no damage to her,” Antony said quickly, with such passion that Hermione could have sworn the bookshelves around them shook. It certainly felt like no damage had befallen her, only pleasure and thrill.

“I am not blind, Your Grace!” Rufus added the address of ‘Your Grace’ in the aftermath, as though struggling to be polite at this time. “There is nothing else for it. You must marry my daughter.”

“Father, please don’t do this–” Hermione begged, but Rufus waved a hand in her direction, ordering her to be quiet.

“I cannot.” Antony’s voice rang out clearly between the shelves. Hermione snapped her head toward Antony, startled by it. Even though she wanted to protect him from this, after what they had just shared, to hear the insistence in his voice that he could not marry her hurt greatly.

“This is an outrage!” Rufus bellowed, taking a step forward. The Dowager Duchess stepped forward too and stretched out a hand toward Rufus, trying to calm him.

“Please, Lord Branigan, allow my son a moment to think. It is the shock, that is all. He is a gentleman and will do right by your daughter,” the Dowager Duchess nodded at Hermione with the words.

“If it were simply a case of doing right by your daughter, then I would marry her,” Antony said quickly, gesturing to Hermione. She flinched at the casual gesture. “Yet, I have made a vow to never marry, and I cannot break that now.”

“Then my daughter is ruined forever!” Rufus stepped toward Hermione and took hold of her wrist. She tried to retreat from him and back away, but it was too late. He had hold of the same hand he had bruised before and used it to drag her away toward the bookshelves, his fair hair whipped around his face as his head darted back and forth. “You do my family the greatest dishonor I have ever known.”

“It is no slight against Lady Hermione.” Antony’s words prompted Rufus to fall still, giving Lady Hermione enough time to look back at Antony. This time, his eyes were on her when he spoke. “I cannot break my vow. I have promised to never marry, and that is that. I cannot be persuaded otherwise.”

Not even to save me from ruin. The tears came now, fresh and hot on her cheeks. She tore her arm out of her father’s grasp, wincing at the fresh pain and hurried through the bookshelves, running as fast as she could from the room.

“Hermione? Hermione!” Cordelia was shouting after her, but Hermione ignored her. She needed to be as far away as possible from Antony and the thought of what they had just shared.

He can pleasure me then send me to the gutters, for that’s where I’ll be once this gets out.

She ran through the corridors of the house, heading toward the stairs as the tears came quickly. She had ruined herself, not for her father as he had pleaded, but because she had wanted to do it. Had Antony pushed for more, she had a feeling she would have given it to him. Yet none of that mattered now, for she had given herself to a man that couldn’t even marry her when she was facing ruin.

She ran up the stairs and to her chamber. She briefly considered finding Phoebe, but her sister was still at the ball, and Hermione wasn’t going to go anywhere near their guests now. Once she was inside her chamber, she flung the door shut, placed her back against it, and sank down to the floor, placing her head on her knees as she cried. At one point, she lifted a hand to her neck, ready to hold onto the locket, but she found the space empty.

* * *

“This is an outrage; I cannot stand for this!” The Earl’s voice was beginning to fade into the distance as Antony escaped the library. He was walking straight to his study, trying to be alone and finding the endeavor impossible. Mrs. Atkins was still with the Earl in the library, trying to calm him down, and Rose had found Fergus standing in the doorway to the ball and was currently telling him everything.

Antony hurried into the study, but before he could close the door, a foot appeared in the gap. “Ow! You shut doors a little hard, you know?” Fergus said, pushing the door open again and following Antony inside.

“Fergus, I need to be alone,” Antony said, going toward the desk. He intended to sit down and think, but his body wouldn’t settle. Part of him was still alight with the excitement of touching Hermione and giving her such pleasure. He wanted to run up the stairs and follow her, stop the tears that he had caused and make love to her properly, but he could not.

He snatched a decanter of port off a nearby shelf and filled up a glass. He was so hasty that he sloshed some of the liquid onto his desk, but he hardly cared. He downed the first glass before pouring himself a second.

“Do you intend to drink the entire decanter?” Fergus asked, perching on the desk nearby. As an answer, Antony downed the second glass before pouring out a third. “Well, I look forward to picking you up off the floor in a bit.”

“How can you be jesting now?” Antony asked, nearly dropping the glass in his anger. “Did our mother not just tell you what happened?”

“She did, which I still find difficult to believe,” Fergus said carefully. “As you say, you vowed never to marry, so why be so carried away with Lady Hermione to lose control?”

“Because being in control around her is impossible!” Antony replied, planting the glass back down on the desk with a heavy thud and casting more port across the surface.

“You’ll ruin your desk if you carry on like that,” Fergus said with a smile.

“Stop smiling, Fergus!” Antony said, his voice seething. “This is serious.”

“I know it is,” Fergus lost his smile and reached for Antony’s shoulder, taking hold of it. “You need to listen to me now.”

“If you tell me to marry her too, then we are going to have an argument.”

“Then an argument is what we will have,” Fergus said softly. “Antony, I do not wish you to be unhappy, but this matter is now about more than just you. By being caught with Lady Hermione and refusing to marry her, you will damage not only her reputation but her entire family’s name. Lady Phoebe will never be able to marry well afterwards either.”

The words brought Antony up short. He froze for a second with his hand hovering over the glass in the air, hesitating in taking it up again. “The entire family will be ostracized wherever they go. For one thing, I can’t imagine you would have done this if you didn’t care for Lady Hermione in the first place–”

“Take care with what you say, brother,” Antony warned, prompting Fergus to hold his hands up in innocence.

“My point is, if you do care for her, do you wish her to be ostracized forever more? Cast out of society?”

He didn’t want that; of course, he didn’t. He snatched up the glass and drank the contents again before pouring yet another glass full. He couldn’t imagine sending Lady Hermione to the outskirts of society. She meant far too much to him to imagine being so cruel to her, yet this was a greater matter now.

I never thought we’d be caught.

“I made you a vow,” Antony said, pointing to Fergus with the glass. “I promised you that I would not marry, then someday you could be Duke.”

“Antony, do you really think I am bothered by it?” Fergus laughed, holding out his arms wide. The questioned stunned Antony enough to lower the glass.

“What do you mean? You always talk about becoming Duke someday with excitement.”

“Sure, I do; it would be nice, but I am not particularly fussed about the idea,” Fergus said with a shrug. “By the time I would be Duke, I’d be old and decrepit anyway. I picture a life led in the navy first, and I hardly mind if that is my entire life. If it is a question of breaking your promise to me or casting Lady Hermione and Lady Phoebe into the backwaters of society, then I release you from your vow. Only too gladly.”

There was something in Fergus’ face that Antony couldn’t quite make sense of. He watched his brother for a minute, realizing what it was as he lifted a hand and pointed it at Fergus.

“You fear seeing Lady Phoebe hurt by all this,” Antony said quietly.

“I can’t really deny it,” Fergus accepted. “If it’s a question of seeing her happy or being Duke someday, then I pick the former. Every time.”

The smile that appeared on Fergus’ face unsettled Antony so much that he toppled backward until he was sitting in a chair, hanging his head in his hands.

I am trapped. He had to marry Lady Hermione now, not just for her sake, but for Fergus’ and Lady Phoebe’s too.

“So, what are you going to do?” Fergus asked. Antony couldn’t reply straight away; he was still trying to think of a way out of this decision.

He had vowed to marry once and ended up with his heart shattered by the incident. Lady Hermione had the power to hurt him more, he knew that now, from the way they were together and what they had shared on the library rug. Was he willing to put himself through that heartbreak again? Or was he going to be forced to go through with it, in order to protect her reputation?

“Antony?” Fergus prompted. “What will you do?”

“I need to speak to her.” Antony moved to his feet and walked toward the door.

“I suppose there is little point in telling you to take a chaperone with you now,” Fergus said with a smirk that earned a dark glare from Antony.

“No point at all,” he said sharply as he walked out of the room.

As he crossed the corridor, he could still hear the Earl of Branigan and Mrs. Atkins talking in the library, her with soothing tones and him with angry tones. When Antony moved toward the stairs that were lit just be two candles, he found his mother sitting in the middle.

“Well, I can’t remember ever finding you here before,” Antony said as he began to climb the steps. Rose looked up from her lap, revealing there were tears in her eyes. She looked more like a little girl that had run away to hide on the stairs than a Dowager Duchess. “Mother, you’re crying.” He hurried to sit beside her and take her hand. She squeezed his hand, her grasp surprisingly strongly.

“Are you really going to hurt Lady Hermione in this way, Antony?” Rose asked as the tears fell down her cheeks. Antony fished in a pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, passing it over to his mother. She hiccoughed in her tears as she began to dry them.

“Mother, it is not an easy decision to make. There is more to this than just Lady Hermione,” Antony said with feeling, thinking of the last time he’d asked a woman to marry him.

“I do not care about any of the other things,” Rose said, waving the handkerchief in the air for emphasis. “Tell me you are not going to harm Lady Hermione in this way? Tell me that, Antony, I beg of you.”