“Well, if we’re opening up that category, I rather imagine Horace Walpole must certainly be mentioned.” Josephine laughed.
“After naming two favourites of mine already, Lady Josephine, I’d honestly be heartbroken were dear Horace not also mentioned.” The duke grinned as his thumb traced small circles against the back of her hand, his body angling better toface Josephine, and she found herself drawn all the closer to him for it.
“Just Josephine,” she insisted after a moment, enthralled by the topic and their shared fervour.
“Well, Just Josephine,” he drew out, his lips twitching, “I only have one further question for you.” He paused, his silence weighted as she leaned in once more. “E. T. A. Hoffmann?”
“Required reading.” She laughed, her fingers tightening around his slightly. “Intrigue, scandal, magic, and a snake that turns into a woman? You weren’t lying when you said that adventure was your preferred genre clearly.”
“Ah, The Golden Pot. If I had any doubt about our match, I’d be very relieved by your being able to summarize that plot so efficiently.”
“And did you?” Josephine asked before she could catch herself.
“Did I?”
“Have any doubts about our match?”
The duke paused, regarding her more seriously as his thumb slowed against the back of her hand. “I imagine I’d be amuch simpler man if I hadn’t,” he confessed after a moment. “Or perhaps I’m overly optimistic in thinking that our meetings thus far have only proven our compatibility.”
“Shown indisputably by our shared taste in literature,” Josephine teased.
The duke snorted. “As far as tests go, I think that is a rather important one, don’t you?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“Just Henry.”
“Well, Just Henry,” she teased in turn, fighting that rush that saying his name brought. “I do actually agree. Especially considering how much more it seems we’ve found common ground on so quickly. But then, I’m not sure I’d know for certain.”
“You wouldn’t know compatibility?”
She didn’t know why he sounded so surprised. He knew that she was unmarried; that was the point of this whole venture.
“Did you imagine I had some secret husband sequestered away?” she teased, shifting on the couch to try and hide her discomfort again behind humour.
“No, no husband. But no suitors? No previous attachment of any kind?”
She didn’t understand the secondary note in his voice or the way in which his eyes had sharpened. She felt rather suddenly put on the spot, her chest tight as she shook her head.
“I know that it is rather hard to believe at three and twenty. I hope you will not count it against me. I did tell you that I had concerned myself more with my parents and my father’s estate–” and her only forays out into society had been for her sisters coming out.
Henry’s fingers tightened against hers, a strange look overcoming him as he cleared his throat.
“Well, in the interest of being forthright,” he muttered, his gaze breaking from hers to look beyond her to where she knew her parents were seated. “It behooves me to tell you that it isn’t unappreciated information for most men to find out that they are a woman’s first.”
First? He couldn’t mean – oh, no, he clearly didn’t, though Josephine was sure she was already a bright magenta at having even thought it.
He just meant what any man might have. She knew her sisters had entertained a handful of whispered nothings and stolen kisses before finding their intended.
Her brother a good deal more than that even.
“Yes, well, I don’t suppose it is much like a tour of the house,” she joked, her throat tight and that wine gone fully to her head.
“The tour of the house?” The duke – Henry – stopped, his eyebrows lifting as his gaze shot to her lips and then back up to her eyes.
She knew it was a scandalous thing to imply. She didn’t even know why she had, really, other than to try and make him laugh again. Anything to dismiss that heat licking at her belly once more or the heaviness of her limbs to subside somewhat.
His sitting so near had her thoughts racing too quickly for her to rightly keep up with.
