Josephine flinched, unprepared for his change in tone or the stiffening of his person. She stole a glance at his face in the semi-gloom and was struck by his tighter jawline and narrowed eyes. She swallowed, knowing this was her chance to ask for the truth, yet so conscious that doing so might risk their arrangement, and Matilda’s freedom too.
‘I’m aware there was a difference of… opinion…with a friend… before you left for the army,’ she offered haltingly, Williams’s words echoing through her head.
‘Old man Huntingly died in a hunting accident… the young lord discovered Pellham was to inherit part of the estate… The coroner ruled he fell from a bolting horse… I believe his son may have issued the challenge because of his grief following his father’s death.’
‘Adifference of opinionis a very nice way to put it,’ he replied caustically, his dark eyes glinting. ‘I imagine you must have had many differences of opinion with your sisters which didn’t nearly cost you a limb, as well as several years of your life!’
‘True,’ she replied, stung by his tone, ‘and I cannot imagine the pain of your injuries, but you did not have to stay abroad?’ The words were out before she had chance to check them, and she flushed instantly. ‘What I meant to say was that one of those things was accidental…’ she stumbled, trying to find the right words that would lessen the severity of her accusation.
‘… while the other was a matter of choice?’ he finished harshly.
‘No! I was going to sayavoidable,’ she amended swiftly, ‘though I know nothing of the details, obviously.’
There was another silence while Huntingly stared into the semi-gloom, hardly appearing to breathe at all.
‘You don’t,’ he muttered bluntly, ‘and I can tell you that there is nothing glorious or heroic about violent bloodshed! It’s raw and ugly and rarely brings the kind of satisfaction it promises. Then it haunts you, with a savagery that never lets you go…’
Josephine swallowed as she stole another furtive look at the gentleman seated beside her. He looked entirely different from the one who’d held out an orange blossom only moments before. His countenance was tense and dark, while his cheeks were hollowed in a way that only accentuated his words. Without warning, the thorn-choked cherub at Huntingly Manor spun to the forefront of her mind, its stone eyes bulging and body hidden by thick, suffocating ivy. A twist of fear reached up within her– perhaps the rumours about Italy really were true, after all. Perhaps his scars only masked a darker truth.
‘I can’t imagine the horror of real bloodshed,’ she murmured, as he slowly inclined his gaze to hers.
‘We all have our ghosts, Miss Fairfax,’ he replied coldly. ‘The only question is how far we allow them to control our lives– but this I would expect you to understand already…’ His eyelids lowered. ‘Given your own position over the last three years.’
Josephine’s head jerked up, a flare of anger surging through her– how dare he equate her failure on the marriage mart to his failure to clear his name of murder!
‘I beg your pardon?’ she replied icily, rising to her feet. ‘I might remind you that you are the one who asked what I knew of your past, and I do not believe you can compare my marital progress with the rumours surrounding your name, sir! Indeed, my position is not deliberate. I had every hope of making a respectable match, but?—’
‘Now you have to settle for a disrespectable one instead!’ His Lordship interrupted with a scornful laugh.
‘Perhaps… but only you know the answer to that!’ Josephine quivered in anger. ‘And perhaps I did fail in the eyes of the polite world, but at least I did not pursue a gentleman abroad and slay him in broad daylight!’
For a second, everything seemed to still as Josephine’s words echoed around the humid glasshouse, and then Lord Huntingly stood up. She held her breath, watching the rise of his shoulders before he turned, his amber flares scorching like flames. ‘If that is what you truly believe, why do you contemplate a match with me at all?’ he demanded furiously. ‘It would make you as good as complicit, and by marrying me, your soul would be stained by my sin for all eternity!’
Josephine pressed back into the wall behind the bench, trying to steady her thoughts, though her chest was tight and hammering. ‘And leave my sister to such a fate instead?’ she reposted. ‘In truth, sir, I wonder what sort of woman you believe me that I could damn her in such a way!’ She inhaled raggedly, aware she’d given voice to her deepest suspicions, while Huntingly appeared a thousand miles away. A stab of fear reached through her as she conjured Matilda’s relief when she was told she no longer needed to marry; she couldn’t let Huntingly change his mind now. ‘I pray you say such things because you have been wronged beyond what any gentleman could stand,’ she attempted, willing her voice to remain steady. ‘And I do not pretend to know the full affliction of your past, but I can see you have suffered– that you continue to suffer, because… you do not let it rest there.’ She closed her eyes, praying it was enough.
‘You are right that you know nothing of what you speak,’ he replied at last, his voice oddly formal, as though they were barely acquainted at all. ‘But I would rather know your poor opinion of me now, than on our wedding day.’ He continued without waiting for a response. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have been absent for some time, and I am concerned for your reputation. After all, our betrothal is not yet announced, and who knows what everyone will think of you being in the company of a gentleman with such a chequered past! I thank you for your time, Miss Fairfax, and bid you goodnight.’
Then he nodded abruptly, and left Josephine to the heat of her own tumultuous thoughts.
ChapterEleven
Knightswood Drawing Room; Confessions and Secrets
The following morning
‘Oh, do hold still, Henry. I cannot tie it if you continue jumping about like a giant cricket!’ Matilda complained, wrapping Henry’s arm in a makeshift sling.
‘Well, that sounds perfectly reasonable when my arm does not require a sling at all!’ Henry retorted, trying to shrug off his sister’s determined attentions. ‘And why you imagine we are still babes in the nursery I know not– I am a man of nine-and-ten now!’
‘Pooh! I don’t care how old you are, and this is not a game. I need to practise! When one of your friends is injured on the battlefield, and I am able to dress his wound and save his life, you will thank me.’ Matilda grinned, darting behind the long-suffering Henry, and tying another bandage over his mouth.
‘Oh, that’s much better!’ Edward approved, peering over the latest volume ofCurtis’ Botanical Magazine.
Briefly, Josephine thought of her dear, departed Uncle Higglestone, and how proud he would have been to know his nephew shared his passion.
‘Don’t you two ever run out of energy?’ Fred groaned from his favourite armchair.
Josephine looked at her brother thoughtfully. A few sore heads and frayed tempers were normal after a Davenport Derby, but Fred seemed unusually fractious. She drew a deep breath, still not certain what to make of her own disastrous evening. She’d returned to the drawing room moments after Lord Huntingly, but he’d already taken his leave, giving her the rest of the evening to dissect, and overthink, every moment of their conversation.
