Page 28 of Their Brazen Countess
“Missed you too,” Linc muttered and then held his breath for a moment before slowly releasing it.
It seemed this not being emotionally invested business was going to be much harder for both of them than they realized.
Chapter Fourteen
April 1862
Josatinthecoach with her husband, George Downs, Marquess of Whitestone. They were finally back from their surprise second honeymoon, on the Continent. She’d thought their sojourn in the country to be their honeymoon, but then Whitestone had announced a surprise tour of Europe and in truth, it had been a restful trip without Whitestone’s family in tow.
Butterflies danced in her belly as the vehicle rocked side to side. She’d been feeling poorly all day, but had pulled herself together so she could attend their first ball as a married couple.
“Josephine, if you are feeling poorly, you do not need to attend the ball tonight. I can send you home and have the coach come back for me.” Her husband reached over and tipped her face up toward his with a finger under her chin.
She let her lashes drift down to hide the turmoil that burbled beneath her placid surface. In the last three months, she had come to like him very much. He was proving to be a kind and attentive husband, if not a man she was in love with. She tried to remind herself that she was very lucky. Her father could have chosen any number of horrible men to sell her off to. It just so happened that this man was gentle. “Thank you, my lord. I am feeling much recovered and would very much like to attend this evening.”
He grunted. “Very well then. Should you find yourself taking a turn, do let me know.”
“Of course.” Jo doubted she’d say a word, not until she’d had time to search the guests for two in particular. She was hopeful she might see Linc and Arthur at the ball, even if only from a distance.
Half an hour later, she found herself moving through the receiving line to greet their hosts. Once in the ballroom, her husband directed her over to his brother’s wife, who stood with her daughter-in-law.
“Lady Agnes Downs, Mrs. Beatrice Downs, you remember my wife, the Marchioness of Whitestone.” Whitestone gave her hand a squeeze as the two women curtsied to her.
“Lady Downs, Mrs. Downs. I am pleased to see you all again.” Jo darted a worried look at her husband. She had not mentioned to him the less than warm welcome she’d received from the women at their wedding reception, nor his sister and her nephew’s treatment at his country house. It seemed no one in the family would welcome her.
She supposed she couldn’t blame them; besides being new money, she also represented the likelihood that her husband’s brother, Lord Downs, would not inherit the title of Marquess. That is, if she was capable of bearing him a child.
Her gut churned at the thought. Whitestone was kind enough, but his family were a pit of vipers. The thought of raising a child in the midst of such people worried her. She sighed. Of course there was little to worry about at the moment. Possibly never. After all, she’d never fallen pregnant with her first husband, and the man had tried. Repeatedly.
Unaware of her distress, her husband continued, “If you don’t mind, I shall leave my wife in your capable hands. Agnes, I would appreciate you guiding her through the festivities, as she is still learning who is who and how to navigate these waters.”
“Of course, my lord. We’d be happy to guide your new bride.” Agnes curtsied to her brother-in-law and attempted to smile at Jo as Whitestone made to depart their little group.
“Excellent!” Whitestone turned and bowed to Jo. “I shall collect you for the first waltz later.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Jo curtsied to her husband and watched his retreating back as her heart sank.
It was hard to ignore his family’s blatantly ingratiating behavior—particularly when it changed in a thrice, once her he was gone.
The coldness of Agnes’ brown, glittering eyes sent a shiver of alarm down Jo’s spine as she faced the women. She had suspected when they’d met during her reception, but now she could say with certainty she did not like the woman. Not one bit.
Agnes cast a critical eye up and down her form. Jo had liked her deep blue gown when she’d dressed that evening. It paired beautifully with the sapphires that her husband had given her while they were on their honeymoon. It would seem Agnes did not share her appreciation for her gown.
“I can see I need to take you in hand, my dear.” Agnes waved her fan in front of her face even as she added insult to injury by not addressing Jo properly.
“I’m sure you must have a great deal of advice to offer.” Jo offered a slash of a smile.
“Indeed, I do.” Agnes puffed up, oblivious to the sarcasm lacing Jo’s comment, and leaned over to speak far too loudly with her daughter-in-law. “I see that American girl who caused such a scene at the Lytton ball has arrived.” She snapped her fan closed. “The gall of that girl to show her face.”
The pair huddled together to gossip about the poor woman, which allowed Jo to slip away. She sidled to the outer edge of the ballroom and sought a vantage point that would allow her to spot her quarry, but circling the space, she found no perfect spot to hide. Instead, she came across the two men she had hoped to see. Spotting a potted fern, she slipped behind its fronds and attempted to blend into the wallpaper as she watched them from behind.
The pair stood together, one dark head leaning against the blond. Jo wished she could hear what they spoke about, but instead settled for appreciating them in profile. Staying tucked behind the plant allowed her to watch as their hands brushed in an ever-so-subtle gesture that spoke volumes to her. Then one of their friends joined them, saying something that caused them all to laugh. Her heart squeezed, momentarily stealing her breath.
Realizing she had been gone quite a while, Jo eased back around the ballroom to where she had left her husband’s relations. There she found the snobbish women still gossiping about the other attendees of the ball. She slid back into place beside them. Pulling her fan out, she gently stirred the warm air of the ballroom.
“Where on earth have you been?” Agnes leaned around her daughter-in-law to address Jo. “I was just about to send for Whitestone.”
“I slipped off to the retiring room for a few moments.” Jo was surprised the woman had even noticed she had disappeared.
