‘I believe it was you who pushed a letter beneath my door back at Knightswood?’
‘Oh… yes it was,’ she replied in surprise, making her way to a seat next to Fred at the long parlour table. ‘It was no trouble and I trust it was welcome.’ She smiled politely as an army of footmen began filling the table with an impressive array of first- and second-course dishes.
‘To be fair, I cannot recall the contents well enough to know if it was welcome,’ he replied nonchalantly, his brow wrinkling, ‘but I appreciate your part all the same.’ He surveyed the table appreciatively. ‘Now then, I spy neck of venison, Scotch scallops, boiled chicken, patties and stewed celery among many other delicious dishes,’ he observed, oblivious to Josephine’s frown. ‘It looks like Fred and I arrived just at the right time.’
‘Oh, but you did, Sir Francis!’ Isabella gushed, craning her neck around Fred. ‘And I can personally recommend the turtle soup.’
‘Indeed, Miss Hampton? Then I shall make sure to have some,’ Sir Francis replied with another dazzling smile that prompted Isabella to turn bright pink.
‘Do I look like a sailor, Miss Fairfax?’ he quizzed quietly, rolling his eyes.
Josephine coughed on a sip of wine, conscious his comment wasn’t exactly what she’d expect of a bridegroom-to-be. ‘I’m sure she was just being a good hostess,’ she murmured.
‘Certainly.’ He smiled, though there was a fresh gleam in his eyes.
She tried to compose her thoughts which were already so tangled with Amelia’s confidences, Isabella’s expectations and her own disordered emotions. He was too well bred to be anything but jesting and yet, for some reason, she wasn’t quite sure.
‘Do you always say the right thing, Miss Fairfax?’ He threw her an amused glance.
‘I am quite certain I do not, sir,’ she answered with conviction, thinking back to the morning she asked a disgraced lord to marry her.
She flushed at the memory as Sir Francis stared, a flicker of candlelight in his eyes.
‘Perhaps you haven’t done quite as you should… once?’ he murmured suggestively, a small smile playing around his lips. ‘Pray do tell, Miss Fairfax, for I thought I knew the female mind but, indeed, you are provingquitethe mystery.’ His smile widened as he reached towards the scallop dish and seemed to, quite deliberately, brush his fingers against hers.
Josephine stiffened, a surge of indignation replacing her jangled nerves just as they were interrupted.
‘What a delight to see you here this evening, Sir Francis, and you too, Mr Fairfax,’ Aurelia trilled from further down the table. ‘My younger sister was quite in raptures with your recent performance at the Davenports’,’ she added, as Miss Amelia inclined her perfectly ringleted head.
‘Miss Amelia is too kind,’ Sir Francis replied with one of his brilliant smiles that mesmerised every other young lady within ten dinner places, ‘but the truth is that, apart from the enigmatic Miss Fairfax here, I had very little competition.’
Josephine flushed as the admiring young ladies switched their attention from her companion to herself with far less enthusiasm. Yet she was conscious of a faint stir of injustice too– Lord Huntingly had outshone them both that evening, and to pretend otherwise was wrong.
‘Sir Francis is also too kind,’ she added swiftly. ‘For, without doubt, Lord Huntingly was the most adept performer of the evening.’
She’d intended to be honest, but the moment she spoke his name aloud a strange silence stilled the air. She glanced around, suddenly aware she’d committed a societal faux pas and that the cloud surrounding Huntingly’s name was bigger than even she’d realised. She swallowed, feeling oddly defiant.
‘Your defence of Lord Huntingly is to be expected given your forthcomingevent,’ Sir Francis murmured once normal chatter resumed. ‘Though you must know his name is far from unblemished?’ He selected a cherry from a large platter. ‘Indeed, if I were you, I should take a little care before announcing it in polite circles, for you aren’t wed yet and, even when you are, your Fairfax reputation will have much work to do to counteract his history. Indeed, might I offer you some advice, Miss Fairfax?’ He glanced at her from beneath his long lashes.
Josephine knew he meant well, that she should nod with the usual quiet grace she was known to possess. Yet in truth she felt far from herself and was aware only of a strange chagrin clawing up her throat.
‘With marriage to such an individual on the horizon,’ he continued, oblivious to her thoughts, ‘some might say that now is the time to enjoy yourself.’ He popped the cherry in his mouth, reminding Josephine forcibly of a winged god at a Renaissance feast. ‘There is plenty of time for fashionable protestationsafterthe vows, after all.’ He smiled, clearly well pleased with himself.
‘Well, that is where you and I differ, Sir Francis,’ Josephine replied, finally finding her voice. ‘For I’ve never been in the least bit in vogue.’
ChapterFourteen
Ebcott Guest Bedchamber; Whispers and Ghosts
22nd June
Dear Fitzwilliam,
I don’t know what possessed me, it was certainly the first time I’ve ever felt our minds todiffer…
Josephine underlined ‘differ’ twice, before closing her eyes to picture Sir Francis’s expression. She still wasn’t sure if he was irked or amused but, judging by the way he’d turned his attentions elsewhere for the remainder of the supper, she could only assume the former.
And, while I am certain his nature is akin to mine, I simply cannot fathom what he intended. Was he so affected by the wine, or I so misguided in my defence of Lord H? Is it only the start of what he described– a slow darkening of my soul? And what does it matter now anyway– it is three weeks since the night in the orangery…
