“If love has no bearing, then you will not protest ending this farce,” Lady Brisby snapped. “Call it off. Tell him you can no longer agree to such a scandalous proposal!”
“It’s hardly scandalous,” Josephine protested. “But I have no choice in the matter. Surely you understand, Lady Brisby, the marriage is arranged!”
Even if her parents had considered her opinion, it still wasn’t a falsehood. Not this far into it, anyhow. While her mother might be amiable to her calling it off at the last minute,her father would surely have something to say, given that it had already been made public.
“Because being the duchess is too good an opportunity for you to pass up.” Lady Brisby sniffed derisively. “If it’s about money, I’d be happy to pay you, girl.”
“It has nothing to do with being the duchess.” Even if it did, in part, have something to do with what being the duchess entailed. Josephine was dizzy from the circles they had been talking themselves in, her mind reeling as she tried to regain some kind of grip on the conversation.
“Five thousand pounds,” Lady Brisby announced suddenly, her voice shrill. She looked around quickly, her expression becoming more pinched before she stepped in closer. “Five thousand pounds,” she repeated. “I will give you five thousand pounds per year if you will break this scandalous engagement with the duke.”
Five thousand pounds.
A week before, Josephine would have wept at the offer. It was more than enough for her and her parents to live comfortably.
But Lord Wallburshare’s face flashed in her mind as she considered it. His obvious grief whenever his wife was mentioned, the quick wit with which he parried her teasing, andthe way his face transformed whenever he offered one of his rare, genuine smiles.
“I could not accept such an offer, Lady Brisby,” Josephine said slowly, trying to base her response purely on practicality alone … and knowing that it had nothing at all to do with it in the end.
Damn her own sentiment.
“You could and will,” Lady Brisby hissed. “You won’t haggle another penny out of me. Five thousand pounds is a good sum. You can go off wherever you want with it, and I’ll more than be able to provide as much once I’m ma–” she cut off suddenly, her cheeks blushing a deep, dark crimson and her glare quickly becoming even more pronounced.
“I can’t and won’t,” Josephine answered tartly, her own irritation finally creeping into her tone. There was only so much her sympathy for the woman could stand. “Our engagement is public, Lady Brisby. To call it off now would only shame my family. You talk of imaginary scandals while begging me to willingly enter into an actual one!”
“Listen here,” Lady Brisby bit out, taking another step forward until they stood so close that Josephine could feel the ill will radiating like heat waves off of her. “I will not be spoken to like this.” She reached forward, her fingers like claws aimed directly at Josephine’s arm, but Josephine stepped quickly back.
“I believe we’ve said all that we need to say to one another,” Josephine snapped. She looked down to where Lady Brisby’s reaching hand curled into a fist, her eyebrows lifting as she only just kept from asking her what in the world she had been intending. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that it is unfounded. And I’d ask that you leave me alone in the future, please, and thank you.”
She turned smartly on her heel, walking away before Lady Brisby could stop her indignant gaping.
She didn’t want to hear anything that the woman had to say. She didn’t want to be insulted any further than she already had been. And she certainly didn’t want to test her own patience’s limitations any further than she already had.
Lady Brisby was the duke’s family, but she was not someone Josephine felt the need to acquaint herself.
As the door to the seamstress’ shop shut definitively behind her, Josephine couldn’t help chancing a look out of the window to ensure that Lady Brisby wasn’t following her.
Seeing her striding angrily in the other direction provided only a modicum of relief, though, her heart still hammering in her chest as she tried to ascertain what on earth had driven the other woman to such measures.
Chapter 12
“–and I told him, ‘That’s not my dinner coat, my fine fellow.’” Lord St Vincent’s eyebrows rose with his words, his chuckles already breaking through his syllables as he delivered the punchline of his joke, and the table erupted in laughter.
Henry laughed right along with Lady St Vincent and Lady Josephine, his head shaking slightly in disbelief as the staff came in to start clearing the table of their dinnerware.
“You really ought to retire that story, darling,” Lady St Vincent sighed, dabbing the corners of her eyes nonetheless with her handkerchief as she did, her laughter still present in her tone. “Eventually, it is going to get you in trouble.”
“How could it get me in trouble at the table of my future son-in-law?” Lord St Vincent demanded, grinning widely at Henry as he did.
Henry only smiled, snorting slightly as he looked across the table as the married couple continued their good-natured fussing.
He’d caught Josephine staring at him several times over the course of their dinner that night, a thoughtful, almostworried look in her eye. He might have found it flattering if not for the last bit. But, as it was, he was just curious.
“If you’re in no rush,” Henry offered as he stood, “I’d be delighted if you would care to join me in the sitting room. I have a nice bottle of port for the two of us and a lovely bottle of red wine that Lady Fethmire insisted the ladies have a chance to try when last she visited.”
“I’ve never turned down a good port,” Lord St Vincent chuckled, rising from his chair and reaching out to assist his wife in doing the same. “Besides, my wife had already suggested we give the pair of you a chance to talk privately. Get to know one another before jumping into—”
“Darling,” Lady St Vincent hissed, cutting her husband off as she grabbed his arm.
