‘I wasn’t motivated by confidence,’ she replied. ‘I wanted only to protect Matilda and give her some time. I know it was… forward, foolhardy even, but you said he was only interested in a respectable name to align with his own. And if I marry Lord Huntingly there will be one less charge upon the future estate,’ she finished with a faint note of hope.
‘And what of my name?’ Thomas thundered in the small space. ‘I gave Huntingly my word! Am I to accept that now counts for nothing? Let alone bear the shame of a sister offering herself as an exchange. It is not onlyforward, Josephine, it’s scandalous! And I would have thought you’d learned the outcome of such things from Phoebe’s near disastrous escapade or Sophie’s ridiculous jaunt across Paris!’
‘They’re both happily married now,’ Josephine defended.
‘Yes, but through luck rather than design!’ he countered furiously. ‘It could have ended so differently for them both, butyou, Josephine… I expected so much more of you! You’re just lucky Phoebe’s delicate situation will serve as a half-decent excuse for your folly!’
Josephine glanced up. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, suddenly fearful.
‘Well, obviously I can’t let things stand as they are,’ he scorned. ‘I made a gentleman’s agreement with Huntingly, and he’ll be waiting to hear if it still stands. I’ll write to him as soon as we’re back at Knightswood to assure him your actions were the result of your sister’s recent birthing experience– that your nerves were strained. Though I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t rescind on the whole thing altogether; the gentleman needs a respectable alliance to quell gossip, not a ramshackle wife who thinks she can behave like one of her ill-advised heroines!’
‘You can’t!’ Josephine whispered, aghast. ‘You… you don’t know what Huntingly is like.’
Thomas’ lip curled. ‘If you mean I haven’t listened to all the rumours, you’re quite right!’ he replied glibly. ‘Papa hunted with old Lord Huntingly, and he would have approved of the match. His son is little different, and his nature will suit Matilda.’ He paused to look Josephine up and down. ‘Far more so than it will your reclusive nature.’
Josephine reddened, picturing the towering, chestnut-eyed lord reclining against his breakfast table, eyeing her with clear disbelief. She could readily believe he was a hothead just like Matilda, and already knew he possessed an unpredictability, a wildness, that was both terrifying and drawing at the same time. Yet, however could two such fiery souls produce an alliance to quell gossip? And the thought she might have meddled in a match that might actually suit Matilda? It hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d acted to protect her sister and give her precious time, but if she’d thought Matilda might embrace the match, she never would have interfered. She closed her eyes, Thomas’s bleak words piercing her like tiny darts. She’d never considered herself a match for Matilda’s beauty or spirit, yet his description felt more scorching than any criticism she’d ever levelled at herself.
‘But Matilda has other ambitions,’ she defended quietly, staring down at her knotted fingers. ‘She needs time.’
There was a heavy silence before Thomas spoke, and when he did, it was with finality. ‘Matilda may have as many ambitions as she pleases,’ he said coldly, ‘but her duty will always come first. I promised her to Huntingly, and by my troth, he will have her, if he still chooses. And, in the meantime, I suggest you take time to reflect upon your selfish and nonsensical behaviour which disappoints me more than Ican say. I expected more sense from you, Josephine, but now I can see you’re just as damned foolish as the rest!’
* * *
Dear Fitzwilliam,
So much has happened since I last wrote you that I hardly know where to begin, yet perhaps it should be with the most joyful news that Phoebe is on the road to recovery…
Josephine broke off at the sound of faint voices in the hall downstairs, and yet the past three days had been so quiet, there was a distinct chance she could be imagining them.
In truth, baby Alexander’s entry into the world was so beset with challenges, Dr Kapoor calls it a miracle that he and Phoebe survived at all, which only makes my sister’s improving health even more of a blessing. And miracle does seem to be an apt description, for a more heavenly bundle it would be difficult to find… such tiny fingers, such sweet infant eyes… Itruly believe he has the look of the viscount, and yet there is something in his ferocious cry that is Phoebe through and through.
She exhaled as memories of Phoebe’s pride and joy were slowly replaced with recollections of her own dismal predicament.
As for my own plan, I can safely say I have never felt more wretched! Not only has Thomas written to Lord Huntingly to assure him their gentleman’s agreement still stands, he has claimed my actions were the result of overwrought nerves. I am sure Lord Huntingly will take little persuasion that this was indeed the case, he eyed me with enough suspicion, but more importantly my efforts to protect Matilda will count for nothing! Thomas is determined my nature will not suit Huntingly, but our old nurse Harriet spoke with more truth when she said Thomas will not be crossed. Truly, he must be the most heinous brother to force the hand of one sister when another will give hers most readily.
She swallowed, trying to quiet the barrage of hurt and confusion within her slight frame. Thomas had lectured her all the way from Ebcott until, finally, his grievance turned to silence. Harriet had extended looks of sympathy throughout, but even she knew better than to intervene when Thomas was in one of his darker moods.
In truth, she’d never known him so damning before, except perhaps when Phoebe was pinked by a highwayman, or Sophie decided to accompany a known rake of the ton to Paris… She smiled faintly, recalling her sisters’ calamitous adventures long before she’d raised her own bookworm head above the parapet, yet wouldn’t she do the same again, for any of her sisters? Her smile faded as she recalled their arrival back at Knightswood, when Matilda learned of her match with Lord Huntingly:
‘I don’t care what you’ve arranged, you can un-arrange it as fast as you like! I’m not your daughter, and I won’t be told who I’ll spend the rest of my life with– especially if it’s some scandalous cad!’
‘How dare you speak in such a way! You are my ward, and my responsibility. And by my troth, you will marry who I say you will marry, so help me God.’
She closed her eyes, remembering the way Matilda had stormed from the dining room, her moorland face stained with fury and tears. It was a scene she’d tried so hard to prevent, yet it seemed she’d achieved little but her own disgrace.
Josephine glanced up as a soft rap at the door jolted her from her thoughts.
‘Excuse me, miss. Sir Fairfax wonders if you might join him in the library, miss?’ Betsy asked timidly. ‘And he requested you… tidy yourself before you come down too, miss.’
One glance at Betsy’s wide-eyed expression was enough to ascertain that it wasn’t an ordinary request as she turned to inspect herself in the mirror. She looked neat enough in her old plain muslin with her hair twisted into a low bun, yet Thomas’s mood was far from easy.
‘If I may say so, miss,’ Betsy sniffed loyally, ‘you look lovely just as you are.’
Josephine smiled and pinched her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Betsy,’ she replied ruefully. ‘Let’s hope my brother agrees.’
* * *
From the moment she entered the room, Josephine knew something was different. For a start, Thomas was smiling, prompting her to glance behind in case her arrival had coincided with a delivery of Burgundy.
