‘Hush, dear, poor Sir Francis really mustn’t feel cajoled into tennis,’ Josephine protested, blushing at Matilda’s compliment. ‘And I’m sure he’s a very skilled wordsmith, given his studies and travels.’
‘Pooh! Fred has done both, and he’s terrible with words, can barely string two of them together?—’
‘I say, that’s a bit rich!’ Fred intervened before his reputation was shredded. ‘Though, dash it, Dashton, gothic tale writing does sound a little dark for such a bright morning! Unlessyouwish to, of course, Jo?’
‘Unless Josephine wishes to do what precisely?’ a dry voice interjected, stilling them all in the sunshine.
Dismayed, Josephine turned to see the library windows were slightly ajar and her eldest brother seated in his favourite high-back armchair. From this vantage, it was easy to spy Fairfax family heritage in his silhouette; he had the same high brow, stubborn chin and thick hair, though his was by far the darkest.
‘Thomas!’ Fred exclaimed. ‘I didn’t see you lurking beside old Duke Wellington’s encyclopaedia! But don’t take any notice of our nonsense, Francis was only trying to entertain the girls with a gothic tale– but I don’t think?—’
‘A gothic tale about who exactly?’ Thomas interrupted, a faint sardonic smile playing about his lips.
Josephine eyed the empty whisky tumbler on the French occasional table beside his chair warily.
‘Oh, no one in particular…’ she began.
‘Boring Lord Alistair Huntingly!’ Matilda scowled. ‘When it would besomuch more fun to play tennis.’
‘Huntingly? Boring?’ Thomas laughed as he rose from his armchair and placed his newspaper beside the tumbler. Then he sauntered forward with the all the nonchalance of a master of a large estate, with a wine cellar to match. ‘Lord Huntingly, heir to Huntingly Manor and about two hundred acres of prime Somerset countryside, is anything but boring,’ he drawled. ‘In fact, our paths crossed only last week, and I was delighted to make his better acquaintance. His years abroad have given him wisdom and bearing, so the news he is looking for a wife to help restore Huntingly Manor’s position was interesting indeed.’
A faint chill reached through Josephine as his gaze came to rest on her, the bright May sunshine accentuating the shadows beneath his eyes. ‘Yes… perhaps tennisisthe better idea,’ he concluded abruptly, turning back into the quiet gloom.
‘Finally, someone with a little sense!’ Matilda exclaimed in an entirely unruffled tone, before setting off towards the estate office, where the lawn games were stored.
Yet as Josephine followed around Knightswood’s stately front, she felt far from relieved. A wild and rakish lord who’d just returned from the continent amid a cloud of old murderous rumours might put some brothers off, but not Thomas. His Monstrous Marriage Masterplan had haunted them all. He was no less determined now than he had been when Phoebe had first come of age, and there was something in his tone that made her feel most unsettled.
‘I wager Josephine and I will win three sets to love!’ Matilda grinned as she pulled open the estate office door.
The gentlemen laughed, teasing her good-naturedly, while the note of unease in Josephine’s heart intensified. She gazed at her sister’s pretty, wilful face as she grasped the racquets and balls, and passed them out. Matilda was the most spirited and ambitious of them all, and yet she was also the most vulnerable. She truly believed that with enough determination, she could side-step the marriage mart altogether. Yet her wishes would matter for nothing if Thomas received a reasonable offer for her hand. She was a Fairfax female when all was said and done, a sister he would marry off, whether she willed it or not. It was going to be the biggest shock, and her fierce younger sister was going to need at least one of them by her side when the time came.
‘Last one there has to pick up balls!’ Matilda called, dancing on ahead towards the grass court, while she and the gentlemen followed at a more leisurely pace. Yet the jovial tones and joyful spring haze were at stark odds with the nature of her thoughts. With Phoebe and Sophie focused on their own families, she was the only one left who could support Matilda through her season. But not if Thomas resolved the problem of an older sister, who had yet to attract a single offer, first.
Josephine felt herself pale as she glanced at Sir Francis’s tall profile, conscious of the oddest mix of feelings. With three seasons under her belt, she was looking more like a costly spinster every day. Yet to arrange her marriage to a wild and infamous lord, who might just be a murderer too…
Not even Thomas would do that,would he?
ChapterThree
Knightswood Manor; Soup and Sandalwood
7 o’clock
Josephine looked across her soup à la flamand, wishing she’d plumped for hashed venison instead. She was certain Thomas was eyeballing her more than usual, and as she lifted her spoon, she tried not to inhale Sir Francis’s sandalwood cologne which, although pleasant, appeared to have pervaded every corner of Knightswood’s grand dining room.
‘I heard you managed to upset Jennings at the fayre earlier,’ Thomas remarked drily, signalling for a second glass of Bordeaux.
He glanced at his younger brother Fred, the only Fairfax he ever addressed at dinner, who smiled nervously.
‘He didn’t like me overlooking Bertha, his prize Tamworth,’ Fred replied, his voice faltering at his brother’s demeanour, ‘but I thought it best I chose a local breed…’
‘Fred had a difficult task,’ Josephine offered quietly. ‘There were a number of our tenants competing.’
‘More fool he then for choosing the smallest,’ Thomas replied with a cold smile.
He tossed the wine back as though it was lemonade, before sawing into his venison joint with a violence that forewarned every Fairfax present.
‘And the… er… winning tenant was happy?’ Sir Francis enquired in a tone that made Josephine sink further into her seat.
