How to Catch a Duke in Ten Days by Violet Hamers

Chapter Twenty-Four

Antony spent the entire day out of the house, sitting on Lyme Regis beach with Hermione’s guidelines in his hands. He nearly ripped them up at one point and threw them in the sea, but he decided to hold onto them, thinking it was best to have them to confront Hermione with at some point. The question was, when would be the right time to confront her?

The longer he was staring at the guidelines, the more they bothered him. For one thing, they did not look like Hermione’s handwriting– he’d seen her handwriting on the notes she’d made with his mother for the ball– which was why he wished to deny her being capable of purposefully trapping him into marriage, yet he couldn’t find a convincing argument in her defense.

As the sea came up closer with the tide trickling nearer and nearer to him, he thought of everything she had ever done with him and the conversation that he’d overheard between her and Cordelia. There was no mistaking it. Hermione was pleading as to how it was not her fault that he hadn’t visited her the night before, and Cordelia was insisting that Hermione had to make the consummation happen.

I can never consummate it now. He might not be able to annul their marriage without bringing scandal on his family, but he could hurt Hermione as much as she had hurt him.

With this thought, he hung his head forward, aware that the first waves of the ocean and the incoming tide were coming up so near to him that the white foam was nearly touching his toes.

She has hurt me. Despite all his declarations that he could no longer care for Hermione, and his determination that he could somehow switch off his affection for her, it was still there. That’s why it hurt so much to hear what she had done.

The one woman he had thought was honest with him, falling for him and not his title or his fortune, in actual fact had conned him. He had to hand it to her that she was incredibly skilled. She had charmed him so much that he had never even realized he was being conned. He had mistaken Hermione’s bickering and strong spirit as a natural connection between them, not a front she was wearing in order to bewitch him.

I will not be hurt again by you, Hermione, he thought as he stood and walked away from the beach. And you will pay for hurting me so.

* * *

Hermione hadn’t been able to find Antony for the whole day. Even at dinner, he avoided eating with them. When Hermione asked the Dowager Duchess after his whereabouts, the woman had just shrugged and said he was busy with work although her lie was not convincing. Hermione had even gone to the library after dinner in search of him. She had neither found Antony nor the book they were both reading.

She waited up for half the night to see if he would visit her, but he didn’t come. She paced up and down her chamber until the pads of her bare feet were sore, then she climbed into bed, giving up hope.

She didn’t care about what her aunt or her father had said. She wanted to see Antony to tell him the truth now, to confess all to him and see what happened. She doubted he would make love to her after that, no matter how much she dreamed of it and wanted it, but maybe once he knew he could trust her again, it was a dream they could live someday together.

Eventually, she fell asleep, her body realizing what her mind couldn’t accept: he wasn’t coming. When she woke in the early hours of the morning, her body was heated, and she flung off the sheets, her mind consumed with the dreams that had found her in her sleep. She had been making love to Antony, telling him that she loved him, with him above her in the very bed she was now in.

“Why do I have to wait for him to come to me?” she muttered into the air. The idea suddenly seemed so simple, so perfect.

She checked the clock nearby, finding it was the early hours of the morning, so Antony was likely still in bed. She took her opportunity. She clambered out of the bed and found a nearby dressing gown, pulling the open-bodied white material on over her shoulders and tying it loosely around her waist then going toward the door.

She peered up and down the corridor a few times, making sure that no one else was around before she breathed deeply, built up her courage, and stepped out into the hallway. She tiptoed slowly in her bare feet, creeping toward the chamber at the far end of the corridor where she knew Antony slept.

When she reached the door, she knocked quietly, amazed by the sheer power of the fluttering sensation in her stomach, all from the hope of seeing him again.

“Come in,” Antony called to her. Smiling a little, she opened the door. “You are early today, Trevor– ah…” he broke off, realizing who she was.

She closed the door behind her, turning her eyes on his position. He had just sat up in his bed, completely shirtless, with his hair mussed from sleep. The desire in Hermione’s body ricocheted, growing stronger from the sight of him.

“What are you doing here, Hermione?” he asked coldly. She was stunned by the tone; it possessed more chill than he had ever used before to her. “I thought you were my valet.”

“I wanted to speak with you,” she said, hurrying across the room toward his bed. “And as you will not come to me, I decided that I would come to you.”

He shuffled away on the bed, putting a little distance between them. She clambered past the large mahogany bed frame, ornate with swirls and knelt on the bed beside him.

“I do not think you understand the idea of a marriage for convenience,” he said, holding her gaze. She was finding it rather difficult to just stare at his eyes, instead of letting her gaze wander to the chest that was exposed and where the bed sheet rested across his waist, hiding his lower body from view. She bit her lip, wondering whether he was wearing anything at all.

“I could argue that you do not understand, ‘please come see me tonight so that we may talk,’” she quipped back, earning an arching of his eyebrows in response.

“My decision not to come should have spoken volumes,” he said bitterly.

“Convenience doesn’t mean ignore each other altogether,” she pleaded, inching toward him on her knees. He didn’t retreat from her this time, though he held up a hand, issuing silently for her to stop. She pushed the hand away, earning a darker glare from him. “What? You don’t expect me to start obeying your orders now, do you? That was one of our first arguments.”

“So it was, but you did make a vow to obey me the other day,” he said bearing the first smirk she had seen on his face in days.

“Well, you made a vow to love me, and we both know you have no intention of keeping that one, so what difference does it make if I break a vow too?” she said, lifting her chin a little higher. His smirk vanished completely.

“What do you want, Hermione?” he asked, moving as though he would get out of the bed.

“For you to listen to me.” She reached out to take his arm and pull him back to the bed. He pulled it away from her grasp, not letting her touch him, though he abandoned his effort to leave the bed. “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked.

She intended to tell him everything now. The truth about her past and the fact that she loved him, yet her lips found different words to say. “Because I wish to,” he said with sternness.

“Why?”

“My reasoning I do not have to share with you. Not yet, anyway,” he muttered.

“What does that mean?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said stiffly. “Any other questions before I tip you out of my chamber?”

“You would actually push me out of here?” she asked, folding her arms.

“I got you out of a chair once, I’m pretty certain I can get you out of my chamber if I want to,” he said with pride to his tone.

“You kissed me to get me out of that chair,” she pointed out.

“Well, I won’t be doing that this time,” he said, turning and climbing out of the bed. Hearing the words crushed her.

“Was kissing me really so awful?” she asked, breathily.

“Kissing you was never awful; the reason you kissed me was the problem.” He spoke sharply as he stood. To her disappointment, on his lower half he was wearing some loose trousers, but her gaze landed on his open chest again as he crossed the room, just as she comprehended his words.

“What reason?” she asked, confused by it. “You may remember that I initially told you there could be no more kisses between us.”

“A novel seduction tactic, I’ll give you that,” he remarked, turning to a wardrobe and flinging it open.

“Seduction?” she asked, turning on the bed and moving back to the other side on her knees to be closer to him. “What does that mean? You are not making any sense.”

“By taking your advances off the table, I guess you made me want you even more,” he said wryly. “Clever, very clever. I never had a lady do that before.”

“You’re still not making any sense,” she said, shaking her head as he snapped a shirt out of the wardrobe and placed it on the bed. He took out a waistcoat too and flung that down on her other side, preparing to dress.

“Give it up, Hermione,” he ordered. As he reached for the shirt, about to dress, Hermione snatched it off the bed and placed it behind her back, rising up high on her knees to put her body between him and the shirt. He came to a stop, inches from her front, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Give that back.”

“I will not obey your orders, remember?” she asked, painfully aware of how close his lips were to hers, and yet he would not kiss her.

“Fine, do not give that back,” he said with a smirk. “By the definition of doing the opposite of what I ask, surely you will give me my shirt back now?”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin up toward him. He leaned toward her, attempting to grab the shirt from behind her back, yet she resisted, pulling it even further behind her. When he grabbed for it again, she fell off balance.

She tumbled down to the bed, trapping the shirt beneath her, and Antony fell down too, falling on top of her and resting his body over hers with his weight balanced on the one forearm he rested beside her head. They were so close that Hermione could easily reach him and kiss him had she wanted to. She desperately wanted to, but she resisted, only just.

“Please, stop avoiding me, Antony,” she said his name softly.

“It is ‘Your Grace’ to you,” he said tartly although he didn’t retreat from her. He angled his head slightly, tempting her even more to kiss him.

“That’s not what you asked me to call you last week,” she whispered softly, reminding him of what they shared in the library. “You asked me to call you Antony.”

“Well, hearing you moan my name like that was something particularly…” he trailed off although he moved his lips down to hers, so close that she could feel his breath against her.

“You can hear me moan your name like that again if you like,” she asked. He didn’t kiss her though he growled in frustration about something. She was the one to reach up and connect their lips together, beginning the kiss. There was nothing slow about it, and he responded straight away.

He gave up trying to get the shirt and instead looped one arm under her waist, bringing her body up firmly against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto his kiss and pressing her body up to his as eagerly as she could.

As the kiss deepened, heightening the thrill and their senses even more, things began to change. Her hands went wandering, down across his exposed back and up the muscles on his chest. He moaned into their kiss at her touch, spurring her on and giving her more confidence. This time, she reached for his trousers, eagerly undoing the fastening around his hips, desperately wanting to explore him as he had explored her.

Before she could get very far though, she felt his hands move. He took hold of her knees and lifted himself up from her, just enough to part her knees completely and give him room once more. He pulled at her night-rail, exposing her skin to him.

“Antony,” she pleaded with him as he stared down at her, needing that kiss again. He went to her although he said nothing. He started by kissing her on the lips, then he travelled away, kissing her cheek and the top of her neck, right under her ear in a sweet spot. He began to nibble and bite her playfully, giving her a mark of his desire.

The excitement and thrill of such a thing made her arch up even more into him, wrapping her legs around him. With her legs exposed, it was all too easy to brush her center against his trousers, urging him with the movement of her hips to move things along.

It wasn’t what she had planned, but now she was here; she couldn’t stay away from him. She loved him, and she wanted to show him that love. He moved his kisses further down her neck, hovering for a while under her collarbone before he moved down the neckline of her night-rail, kissing her there and teasing her with soft nips to her skin.

“Antony,” she pleaded with him for more again, and he abided.

He rose up, just enough to give him the room to pull up her night-rail. He pulled it over her head, freeing her entirely from it until she was bare to him. She wasn’t embarrassed to be so open with him; she merely desired for him to be the same. She reached for his trousers again, but he pushed her hand away and kissed his way down her body. He started at her neckline, then travelled down the valley between her breasts, making her excitement coil so much that a wetness pooled between her legs.

He moved his body completely downward, kissing her around her hips and hooking one arm under her leg, raising it higher. She was so certain that he was about to kiss her center that she flung her head back, with her hands clinging at the bed sheets beneath them, readying herself for the thrill, only the touch didn’t come.

“Antony, please,” she murmured, wanting him. He still trailed his fingers around her hips, but he was going no further. “Antony,” she begged of him.

Then he moved sharply. It was so sudden that she was not prepared for it. He released her entirely and came up to her, face to face, prompting her to look him in the eye.

“That is what I do not understand,” he said, his voice somber. “How can someone who actually tricked me into marrying them, deceived me, all so their father could get their hands on my money, still manage to actually appear to love my touch?”

He knows.