Page 60 of A Duke to Undo her
“Lord and Lady Elmridge are not at home, Your Grace,” the venerable retainer informed the duke respectfully after consulting the card Cassius thrust at him.
Was he too late? Please God no! He had risen at dawn and ridden as fast as care for his animal’s welfare would allow. Why had he not set off last night as soon as he left the gallery?
“What of Lady Josephine? She has not gone to Scotland already has she?”
“Not as far as I am aware, Your Grace,” the man answered, looking a little disconcerted by the manner of these questions. “Would you care to wait in the drawing room for Lord and Lady Elmridge’s return? I cannot say how long they will remain at the park in such clement weather, but I am sure they would wish me to offer you their hospitality.”
Cassius shook his head. He felt he might go mad if he had to sit down in an elegant drawing room, sipping tea and listening to the tick of a clock. It had been hard enough to wait until sunrise before saddling his horse at Ashbourne Castle this morning.
He pulled at his stock, wishing he could rip off his entire collar and go about like a farmer or laborer. Doubtless his hair was already wild and his clothing in dusty disarray. The poor old retainer might think him a drunk or a madman, regardless of rank, but Cassius knew that Josephine would not care about his appearance, if he could find her.
Perhaps she would not wish to speak to him, but that would never be on account of his dress. It would be because he had already hurt her too deeply for forgiveness, never mind a chance to win her heart. If she was determined to go to Scotland and forget him forever, he could not blame her.
“You say they are at the park. Hyde Park?” the duke re-presented the butler’s words, not wanting to dwell too long on the worst possible outcome when there was still some chance.
“Perhaps, Your Grace. The family do often walk there, but sometimes they choose other parks. I should not wish to mislead you.”
“I shall go and look for them, in every park in London if I must,” Cassius declared, his fierceness provoking another flash of surprise on the butler’s previously impassive features. “If they return before I do, please give them my card and let them know that I…I must speak with them. Most urgently.”
The butler nodded and seemed relieved when Cassius retreated down the steps towards his horse once more. Swinging himself back into the saddle, the Duke of Ashbourne turned his grey stallion towards Hyde Park.
Only one thing mattered now – not dignity, not dress, nor propriety. He must find Lady Josephine Thomson and take her back into his arms, if she would still have him…
Chapter Twenty-Six
“How bright the sun is shining,” Constance commented for at least the fourth time that day, filling Josephine’s unusual silence as the four sisters strolled.
“A beautiful day,” Ophelia agreed, patting the baby on her shoulder. “Josephine, do pull up your bonnet. You and I both freckle so easily in the sunlight.”
“It is too hot for bonnets,” Josephine said vaguely, wanting badly to feel the sun on her face and the wind in her fast-loosening hair.
Late morning was a popular time for members of the ton to be exercising their horses, taking the air on foot, or simply parading themselves, their clothes or their carriages in London’s parks. Josephine was sure there had been odd glances and whispers from other walkers, even before she tipped back her head and deliberately let the bonnet fall down her back.
She saw clearly today that it was often the contrast with her neatly groomed sisters that made her stand out as much as any real disorder in her own dress. In less faultlessly presented and socially appropriate company, she would draw less attention for simply being herself.
Today, she ignored the onlookers, uncaring what others might think of her. Cassius Emerton had liked her appearance and dress well enough, even in disorder. Perhaps especially in disorder. What she had taken for critical attention at the start of their acquaintance she had come to recognize as physical desire that he struggled to control. How naive and foolish seemed her own attitudes from only a few weeks earlier.
“Josephine?” Vera said, nudging her with a gentle smile and directing her attention subtly towards a statuesque lady of late middle age in brightest puce, accompanied by a small man sweating in a winter overcoat, and surrounded by yapping Pekinese dogs on leads.
Usually, Josephine enjoyed entertaining her sisters and their husbands with witty, if irreverent, observations on the most outlandish outfits or vehicles encountered on their walks. Today, however, she could summon little interest for such games and only nodded in acknowledgement of Vera, who sighed and gave up.
“I do hope that Adam and Arthur are busy at their lessons,” Constance spoke up again. “On fine days, they do sometimes get the better of Mr. Garrett, their tutor, and escape to the gardens.Victor and I promised an outing to the boating pond if they learned their Latin so I hope…”
Josephine listened only vaguely to her oldest sister talking of her two sons and had no remark to offer. She had agreed to come to the park with her three sisters because it was better to be outdoors than sitting inside, aching for what she could neither have, nor admit to anyone that she wanted – the love of the Duke of Ashbourne.
“Josephine?” said Ophelia’s voice, slightly raised, making the younger woman realize that her second-born sister had already tried to attract her attention several times. “Vera and I talked about Scotland again. You really would be very welcome to come and stay with me at Kilderhorn as long as you wish. It would be lovely for little Oliver and Matilda to know you.”
“Perhaps,” Josephine replied, not actively wanting to go to Scotland but suspecting that it would be the wisest course of action, for all the reasons Madeline had set out when she first suggested the idea. “Kilderhorn is very quiet, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but we do go to Edinburgh sometimes, and would do so more often if you were with us,” red-haired Ophelia added quickly, wrongly assuming that Josephine was put off by the idea of peace and quiet. “The assemblies in Edinburgh can be very lively and there are many young Scottish gentlemen there who dance as well as their English counterparts.”
“Is that really any endorsement?” Vera tried to joke. “Poor Lady Rose had a lovely dress badly torn at Ashbourne Castle by a clumsy young Englishman’s feet, didn’t she, Josephine?”
“…Oh, yes, I suppose she did,” Josephine responded absently after a moment’s thought, the ball at the end of the Ashbourne Castle house party so dominated for her by her final parting with Cassius Emerton that every other detail was already fading.
Josephine saw her three older sisters exchange puzzled and slightly worried glances and sighed to herself, wishing that she could be more cheerful for them, not least because of the questions her present mood excited. They were not questions she felt equal to answering.
“You are worn out already this season, I believe, my dear little sister,” said Constance, perceiving that Josephine was not blind to the concern of her elders. “We are all thinking of your health.”
