Page 20 of A Duke to Undo her
He must have been waiting for them, Josephine guessed, so relieved to immediately see the blithe and uncomplicated Mr. Emerton that she could have kissed him, if only on the cheek. She felt confident that he would never seize her in his arms in a hidden garden corner and do things that made her feel as though she might be going mad.
“As I said to my sister, it really is a castle!” she laughed, taking one of his arms to walk into the house, the other being offered to Vera.
Betsy accompanied the footman who unloaded their bags in the direction of the servants’ entrance, ready to unpack in the south wing rooms assigned to the ladies.
“I can’t wait to show it all to you,” Mr. Emerton enthused. “You will love it here, I’m sure. Let’s find Mother and let her know you’ve arrived. You’re earlier than we expected but in good time for tea with other guests who came this morning. Cassius has probably gone to ground again. He’s like a bear with a sore head sometimes when we want him to be sociable.”
As he chatted, they walked through the front door handing off coats, hats and parasols to servants and then proceeding through the massive and echoing stone-floored hallway.
Nerissa Emerton met them beside the rather grand and imposing staircase at the far end of this hallway, having appeared from a corridor to the right with another lady who seemed to instantly recognize Vera. Josephine felt glad that her sister would have a friend to occupy her attention and keep her sometimes from her duties as chaperone.
“Lady Elmridge, Lady Josephine, how lovely to see you both again,” the dowager duchess greeted them with the warmth and civility of a practiced hostess. “You must take tea with me and Lady Barnabas, unless you wish to rest after your journey? We will likely not see my son the duke until dinner. There are no real plans until tomorrow, are there, Benedict?”
As Benedict answered his mother and the older ladies began to talk about tea and compare their journeys, Josephine’s eyes wandered around the walls of the hallway and their eclectic mix of art and artifacts, seemingly drawn from every era since the house’s foundation and every level of artistic merit.
The paintings of old masters rubbed shoulders with amateur daubing, presumably by family members. Beautifully carved Grecian statues stood alongside rusty old weapons and tattered tapestries. Antique silver candlesticks and modern Argand oil lamps sat together on side tables. The massive hallway was both strange and fascinating to Josephine’s eyes and she barely realized how far she was drifting from her companions as she explored it.
In the corridor on the opposite side of the staircase, Josephine was just examining a curiously disproportionate oil painting of ahorse when a flash of movement caught her eye from an opening door. Her hand dropped guiltily from the golden frame as a dark-haired man appeared. He froze upon seeing her.
“What are you doing here?” asked the Duke of Ashbourne rather gruffly, as though she was an intruder who had simply wandered into his house from the road, rather than a known and expected guest on the appointed day of arrival.
“You invited me here,” Josephine shot back. “Had you forgotten, Your Grace? I am here for the week with my sister, Lady Elmridge.”
“You are early,” he said, making the statement sound like an accusation more than an explanation of his question.
“At least Mr. Emerton had the courtesy to welcome us like a gentleman,” Josephine now retorted, her blood and her voice beginning to rise with every word they exchanged.
“Oh, is that what Lady Josephine wants today?” the duke replied with equivalent abandonment of calm, coming forward and grasping her hand before she realized what he was about.
He bent over it with a formal bow.
“Welcome to Ashbourne House, Lady Josephine,” he stated, both mockery and an odd, feverish impatience in his tone. “Is that a more appropriate greeting?”
Josephine regarded him as coldly as she could although her heart was banging like a drum.
“I accept your greeting in the exact spirit you offer it, Your Grace,” she replied and then inhaled sharply as he suddenly touched his lips to her fingers, his deep blue eyes looking up at her from underneath his untidy hair as he did so.
Fire and madness flared briefly but powerfully within her once again at this touch and the meeting of their eyes. Josephine snatched her hand from his and backed away.
“I’m going back to find Mr. Emerton,” she declared. “We shall have tea with your mother in the drawing room.”
“So, you still aim to entangle my little brother, do you?” Cassius Emerton asked her, a rough edge in his voice as he straightened up and then raised an amused eyebrow.
“Entanglement?! Is that how you see two people enjoying one another’s company and wishing to know one another better?”
“Maybe I see two young fools playing juvenile games, disregarding the real world and its rules, along with the real people who live in it,” he suggested. “Do you ever plan to grow up, Lady Josephine?”
“I am twenty years of age and quite grown, thank you, Your Grace. I see no reason to abandon all fun and games on that account. Nor does your brother. If Mr. Emerton wishes to spendtime with me, I’m sure that is up to him. Or should be. You did invite me here, and it would be strange to renew your objections at this point.”
Cassius Emerton did not immediately answer these pointed statements, but only looked critically at Josephine, his breathing deep and audible.
“You should know that my mother has also invited a number of other young ladies to this house party in the hope of capturing Benedict’s interest,” the duke told her after several moments. “I believe they are all young women of excellent character and perfect propriety. Do not assume you will have my brother’s full attention.”
Her mind and emotions already overstimulated, these words stung Josephine greatly, whether or not they had been deliberately intended as weapons. Another man might not have been implying that Josephine was of less than excellent character or perfect propriety, but she was sure that this was the Duke of Ashbourne’s intention.
She thought briefly of the three perfect older sisters whom she could never really match and wanted to run away and hide. Then, her anger flared more strongly than her hurt.
How dare this man stand there with his untidy hair, his unbuttoned jacket and his rough manners and imply that it was Josephine who showed deficiencies in proper behavior and general decorum?
