Josephine didn’t wait for an answer: the incredulous look on Thomas’s face was enough to know it would never be positive. Yet, as she left his study with her head pounding and her chest so tight she thought her heart might take flight, she also felt a lightness she’d never experienced before. She’d done the unthinkable: she’d told Thomas exactly what she thought!
‘Are you all right, Jo?’ Fred asked as she hurried back through the library gloom, trying to catch her breath. She glanced up to spy his quiet figure, just inside the door, a mixture of fear and concern on his face. ‘Harriet said Uncle Thomas was being atroll, so I thought it best I check everything was in order?’
And for once, Josephine didn’t try to hide her feelings or say the right thing but burst, quite unapologetically, into tears.
* * *
‘It is… unexpected.’ Fred frowned, resting his head back against the oldest, gnarled tree in Knightswood Park.
Josephine cast a sidelong glance at her brother, their childhood haunt was an instant balm and yet she was conscious of treading carefully too. She’d not forgotten their conversation about Sir Francis, and could sense that revealing the truth about his friend’s advances might hurt in a way she didn’t fully understand. So, she focused on Huntingly’s letter and departure instead.
‘I mean, he was always a bit wild at Oxford, but with friends enough,’ Fred mused. ‘Even he and Francis had a friendship for a time,’ he added with a wry smile, ‘and went hunting and shooting at each other’s places before we all lost touch. But a lot of the fellows did that, and I was the odd one out, really. I wasn’t into that sort of thing.’ He shrugged.
Josephine squeezed her brother’s hand. It was no secret that Fred had a violent dislike for bloodshed of any kind, but he’d surprised her with the knowledge that Lord Huntingly and Sir Francis had ever been friends, even so many years ago.
‘How odd,’ she murmured. ‘They seem so very unsuited.’
‘They are, but I suppose we care less at that age.’
She closed her eyes, trying to recall all the occasions they’d crossed paths in her presence: the Davenports’ soiree, the pre-Ball supper, their duel last night… She hadn’t questioned their ready dislike because they seemed so different, but at Oxford they would have been younger, idealistic gentlemen with money and position. Perhaps it was naive to assume they couldn’t have ever been friends - and yet last night had spiralled so quickly and venomously, it suggested something else entirely. The oddest sensation slid down her spine.
‘Do you know why Huntingly and Dashton…stoppedbeing friends, Fred?’
‘Not sure I do.’ Fred scrunched up his eyes against the sun. ‘My last year was so busy with exams and rowing, and they seemed jolly enough then. I suppose they fell out of touch afterwards and grew apart.’
Josephine nodded, knowing he was most likely right, and yet growth apart wouldn’t account for the intensity between them.
‘He did seem devilish cavy this morning,’ he mulled.
‘Sir Francis?’ she asked, wondering if he was regretting his behaviour now the cold light of day had arrived.
‘No, Huntingly!’ Fred frowned. ‘I rose early and saw him go to Thomas’s study and ask for an audience. He looked so grave, I asked him if it was the thought of tying himself up with you… Didn’t realise then I was putting my great big Wellington boot in it!’
‘Oh, Fred!’ Josephine sighed, closing her eyes and picturing Lord Huntingly’s dark eyes. She might not know why he and Pellham had duelled in the first place, but she did know he was haunted by his friend’s death. And there was still the question of Eliza…
‘I have found myself feeling differently… and of desiring a life that is lost.’
‘I think he might be harbouring a lost love, Fred,’ she said wanly, finally saying the words she hadn’t wanted to utter. She swallowed, not expecting the pain they brought either.
There was a brief silence when it was Fred’s turn to squeeze Josephine’s hand.
‘I know that feeling,’ he murmured. ‘It’s like a sickness, only worse, because there’s no prospect of it getting any better. It lodges itself deep inside, and slowly erodes everything you ever believed because of the hopelessness of it all. Then sometimes you burn hard enough to cry, but only when the moon is watching, and you weep for the life you might have had.’
Josephine regarded her brother, feeling as though she was seeing him properly for the first time in her life.
‘They might not deserve it, Fred,’ she whispered, ‘and that perfect fictional love might be a figment of our imagination.’
‘It might be,’ he replied, dropping his gaze. ‘Or we tell ourselves the same, and accept being a spectator in our own lives… Though that doesn’t really explain why Huntingly took flight, of course,’ he continued in a gruffer tone, picking at the grass at his side. ‘I thought he had more sense than to go getting all worrisome at this stage of the race. It’s not like either of you ever claimed a love match, after all.’
‘Pooh! Love matches are overrated anyway!’ Matilda chimed as she rounded the gnarled tree and hoisted herself up into her old seat in the lowest bough. ‘Far too muchbeholden-ness, if you ask me, not that anyone does ever ask me. Anyway, Sophie said you’re both to come back now because, betrothal or no betrothal, her Parisian silk is not going to waste!’
Josephine closed her eyes, unwilling to think about the Grand Ball that evening while knowing there was no way Thomas would excuse her attendance. As it was, it was highly unlikely he would ever forgive her outburst in his study, and any further breaches of propriety would probably be met with the most severe consequences. But Fred’s recollections had started a chain of thoughts she couldn’t ignore.
‘Do you think Dashton knows more about Huntingly’s duel than he shares?’ she asked suddenly.
There was a startled laugh from Matilda, as Fred swung his gaze back to his sister. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
Josephine drew a breath, knowing she was crossing a line, but also that she needed their help. ‘Well, he and Huntingly detest one another, yet you mentioned they were friends back at Oxford… So, what if their dislike stems from more than natural growth apart? If there was a fall out, it would have had to occur just after you all left Oxford, a time period that also happened to feature Huntingly’s infamous duel…’
