“Only slightly, Your Grace,” Josephine answered honestly. She felt put on the spot. Unnerved by the intensity of his gaze and the sudden butterflies it inspired in the pit of her belly. “I trust, given how you speak of them, that they are good friends of yours?”
It was perhaps too blunt for society, too forward, but again, that almost smile danced about the duke’s lips.
“You could say that,” he agreed cryptically.
Before Josephine could put her foot further into her mouth by questioning him, though, the door opened once more.
Chapter 5
Henry didn’t react quickly enough to the door opening behind him. He knew that he didn’t, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the periwinkle-blue pair in front of him.
Lady Josephine St Vincent was nothing like the image he had conjured of her. At three and twenty and still unmarried, he had been expecting some plain field mouse with a kind disposition. He hadn’t been expecting a girl who could have easily been the belle of the ball at any of the ton’s parties.
She was smaller than he’d expected, with thick auburn hair and a complexion that had obviously seen more sun than many ladies of her age. She clearly liked the outdoors, her figure slim and fitter than he would have expected. But it was her eyes that captivated him. Large and framed by thick, black lashes, they shone such an interesting shade of blue that he had trouble settling on one descriptor or another for very long.
“Lord and Lady Fethmire,” Harbuttle announced formally, highlighting Henry’s preoccupation even further.
Henry didn’t think he had done more than duly notice a woman’s attributes in the past seven years or so – not since having met Martha. But Josephine’s was the kind of beauty thatpunched you in the gut. It was unassuming and natural down to the very smattering of freckles that speckled the bridge of her nose and cheekbones.
“So sorry we’re running late,” Simon said, amusement layering his tone as he took it upon himself to start a conversation upon entering. “Lucy lost her stuffed rabbit, and she simply can’t calm down without it when we are gone for more than an hour or two.”
“Simon,” Lisbet whispered, sounding half-mortified. “So lovely of you to invite us H – Your Grace.”
Henry finally managed to extricate himself from Josephine’s hypnotizing gaze, all but shaking himself as he stood and turned to face his two new guests.
“A pleasure, as always, to have you,” Henry returned by rote. “Lord and Lady Fethmire, I take it you are already somewhat acquainted with the viscount and his wife here? Lord St Vincent and Lady St Vincent, and their daughter, Lady Josephine?”
Good Lord, what was that in his throat? Was that nerves? Whatever would he have nerves over?
Henry fought a frown, gesturing between the groups of his guests and stepping back a bit as he fought the urge to clear his throat uncomfortably.
He didn’t at all miss the accusatory, amused look that his friend shot him either. No doubt he had read even further into the scene he had walked in on than he should have. Henry could hardly say what had possessed him to be so distracted, but certainly it wasn’t anything to do with whatever romantic nonsense his old friend was conjuring.
“Oh, yes! Lady St Vincent, I was so pleased to learn that you and your family would be here tonight,” Lisbet gushed, ever the socialite. “You know I’ve been meaning to invite you over to tea for ages, but every time I go to sit down and pen a letter, the baby needs to be cared for, or a pair of my elder children are fussing at one another again.”
Lady St Vincent laughed. “I know all too well how that goes, Lady Fethmire. How many children do you have now? Isn’t it four?”
“Yes,” Simon groaned, pouring himself a glass of brandy for all the world as if he owned the place.
Lisbet shot him a light-hearted glare as she turned to focus more fully on Josephine’s mother. “I did have just the three, but we’ve added to our number since last we were in the country.”
“That’s how many I had as well,” Lady St Vincent said with a small smile. “There were days I was lucky just to keep them alive and in one piece.”
“Four going on twenty,” Lord St Vincent sighed, looking browbeaten even all these years later.
Simon, though, snorted appreciatively from the other side of the room, raising his glass in a half-toast to the man before he took a drink.
“To have a house full of children is such a joy, though,” Lisbet said pointedly, her eyes darting to Henry and Josephine beside him for the briefest of seconds.
Lady St Vincent’s smile grew at the subtle reminder, but both Simon and Lord St Vincent made sputtering sounds as if only just barely keeping from disagreeing or adding more commentary that would have their wives hissing their names.
“Any number of children is a blessing, I’m sure,” Josephine said diplomatically.
Lord St Vincent chuckled, but her mother shot her a look that clearly was meant to be a warning.
If Josephine saw it, however, she pretended not to have.
“As the youngest of four siblings, I can tell you, from experience, that on more than one occasion, I very much wish that I had either had a good number more siblings so as not tobe the last or to have been the only.” She said it matter-of-factly, with no petulance in her words or expressions.
