Page 40 of A Duke to Undo her
I will try to be…gentle…
Cassius had intended to say that he would be careful but then admitted belatedly to himself that he could not. She excited him too much to believe otherwise. If he took Josephine, the ravishment of her body would be complete, with all the risks to her health, reputation and happiness that an unwanted child would entail. Such an injury to her would go against his principles and his honor.
And what of the child itself? The thought of conceiving a child of his body had always appalled him. While he had never admitted it to anyone else, in the darkest depths of his mind, the Duke of Ashbourne not only feared that he had inherited whatever had killed his father, but that he might pass it down to any progeny of his own.
Even with such moral and deeply-seated scruples as these, the maddening rush of lust-driven thinking had almost overwhelmed him tonight.
What manner of man was he?!
“Are you ill, Josephine?” said Vera, her expression concerned as she drew back the curtains in Josephine’s bedroom and saw her face in the daylight. “Your eyes are so red this morning.”
“I slept badly,” Josephine told her older sister, this being the truth, if not the whole truth.
After returning alone from the library last night, Josephine had cried herself into a fitful sleep from which she had woken several times, only to weep herself back into oblivion.
She could not entirely make sense of what had occurred, or not occurred, with the Duke of Ashbourne in the library last night. His peculiar words had been polite, and he had taken upon himself all responsibility for his actions rather than blaming Josephine in any way. Still, she saw no reason to abruptly abandon her as he did.
Josephine could not help wondering whether she had done something wrong, or not done something expected of her. How could she know? There was no one she could ask. Her friends would know even less than Josephine and Vera would be scandalized and likely take her away from Ashbourne Castle within the hour.
Maybe this was yet another area of life where every other lady seemed automatically to know how to do the right thing, and Josephine did not. But in that case, why had Cassius not simply explained? He must know that she had never done such things with anyone before. At least in their private interactions, he had seemed understanding…until now.
“Are you sure there is nothing else wrong?” Lady Elmridge persisted, her anxiety making Josephine suspect her face must look very ill indeed.
She shook her head. Even if she could have asked Vera’s advice, she would not have done so. All that had passed between Josephine and Cassius Emerton was secret and she liked it that way. Nor could she bear never seeing him again, likely an inevitable outcome if anyone in her family knew he had even kissed her – and he had done so much more than that…
Josephine found herself fantasizing that Cassius had turned back and come to her arms again last night after she called to him, instead of leaving the library. Why did he not come back and explain himself? If only it had ended that way rather than in this cold and hopeless uncertainty. She had to close her eyes to force back another sob.
Vera placed a hand on Josephine’s forehead, checking her temperature and looked her over carefully, seeming to expect something alarming but finding nothing.
“You have no fever, at least,” she conceded. “How is your appetite? Can you eat breakfast?”
“I think so,” Josephine said slowly, nodding. “I will wash my face in cold water and then I will look better, I am sure.”
While she did not really wish to eat, she supposed the Duke of Ashbourne would likely be at breakfast and she longed to see him, even if they could not talk before the other guests.
“Lady Josephine! I have been waiting for you,” called Benedict excitedly as Vera and Josephine entered the breakfast room. “There is so much to do for the ball tomorrow night and you must help me. I want three reels but Mother says two is enough, and the other young ladies want more French dances when everyone knows English country dancing is more fun.”
Lady Elmridge led them to the two seats beside Benedict Emerton and settled Josephine into a chair with an affectionate squeeze of her arm.
“I shall fill both our plates, while you and Mr. Emerton discuss these urgent matters, Josephine.”
‘Thank you, Vera,” Josephine said rather listlessly, and then returned the morning greetings of Rose and Madeline on the other side of the table.
Her two friends and Mr. Emerton all seemed so happy to see her but Josephine only wished she could return to her bed. She smothered a small sigh and accepted the plate that Vera had prepared for her.
“You’re not coming down with a cold are you?” Mr. Emerton asked solicitously, taking in Josephine’s face, her disinterest in her food and her older sister’s manner. “Cassius is not entirely well this morning either. I hope we don’t all start dropping likeflies when there is a ball tomorrow night and still so much fun to be had.”
Josephine turned quickly to him, her eyes having already unsuccessfully searched the room for the untidy dark hair and deep blue eyes of the Duke of Ashbourne. She thought she saw a touch of something like sympathy and interest in the eyes of Dowager Duchess Nerissa as her desperate gaze circled the table.
“Is Cassius…I mean, is the duke ill, Mr. Emerton?”
“Not really, I suspect,” Benedict chuckled to himself. “He does sometimes claim a cold when he’s in ill temper and doesn’t want to inflict his mood on others. Don’t worry about my grumpy big brother, Lady Josephine. Let me take care of you instead. Shall I send for some hot lemon and ginger tea? That’s what you always recommend when someone is under the weather, isn’t it, Mother?”
“What a good idea, Benedict. I shall order it now,” said the dowager duchess, her face as sympathetic and understanding as her younger son’s. “You do look like you need a tonic, Lady Josephine. I hope my son has not been over-taxing you.”
“Lemon and ginger sounds nice,” Josephine said, in appreciation of all this kindness, although blushing a little at the duchess’s remark which made her think again of Cassius, his hands, lips and tongue all exciting her beyond bearing. “Thank you, Your Grace, Mr. Emerton. I did not sleep well. That is all.”
The lemon drink might be easier to consume than any of the other breakfast fare, she hoped, but Josephine doubted that any such tonic could restore her. She only wished she could go to the duke’s rooms and curl up in his arms.
