Page 11 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“It doesn’t look like they mean harm, Your Grace,” Sterling said to the duke.

“Crowds like this never start off with that aim,” Rockwell growled out.

Andrew pulled Josephine closer, and she didn’t resist.

“The carriage?” the duke asked.

“Front of the line, Your Grace,” Sterling said. “Penn and Hunt are waiting there.” Andrew recognized the names of two other men-at-arms trained to protect the ducal family.

He looked down at Josephine to see her face had gone white. His heart squeezed at the fear in her eyes, and he reassured her with gentleness. “A few angry shouts, Josie. Nothing more. We’ll be safe in the carriage in no time.”

Her face turned upward, and that strange flicker of warmth in his chest returned. He’d felt it moments ago in the box, when she’d looked ready to throttle him for his nettlesome behavior. He’d almost dared her to seek her revenge, as curious as he was entertained by the idea of what she would say or do if he had goaded her even one step more.

He didn’t have time to think on pushing her to continue their battle. Instead, he put all his thoughts into something more important—keeping her safe.

Together, their small party wound their way through the theater-goers, who had grown quiet as they listened to the chanting across the street. If everyone remained calm, the constables would arrive and disperse the crowd peacefully. The people dressed in their evening finery would get into their carriages and go home, the evening’s entertainment still fresh in their minds.

Except someone on the theater-side of the street shouted, a male voice carrying to those on the other side, “Do they think any of us care?”

Scattered, nervous laughter followed the shout. But the people protesting their government’s disregard seemed to snarl as one. The shouting started, back and forth across the street, and Andrew’s heart raced as he kept Josephine with him. Someone stepped on her dress, and she nearly fell to the ground before he caught her up against him.

Her wide blue eyes looked up at him. “What if they mob us?” she asked, voice hoarse with fear.

“I’ll look after you,” he promised, raising his eyes to see that their pause had separated them from the duke, duchess, and Sterling.

Rockwell appeared on Josephine’s other side. “You all right, my lady?”

She nodded tensely, and then Simon was there too. The four of them pushed forward and in another blessed minute burst free of the crowd. The duke’s conveyance was there, and Sterling held the door open. The duke and duchess were already inside.

Andrew handed Josephine in, then waited for Simon to climb in with his family before he did the same.

The duke, duchess, and Josephine sat on the forward-facing seat, Josephine between her parents and as white as bone china. Her mother had her arm around her eldest daughter, murmuring soothingly in her ear. The duke appeared grim. “This cannot go on long before there is violence,” he said, the prediction ominous.

Andrew and Simon, on the rear-facing seat, shared a glance. The duke had spoken to them of what he planned should the situation in London not get any better.

“You must all return to Clairvoir,” His Grace declared, and the carriage jolted as it moved away from the theater and its angry crowd. “I will not have my family endangered by the unrest in London.”

Andrew looked to Josephine, noting her wide eyes, and the dazed expression upon her face. His heart lurched protectively, and his hands tightened into fists at his side. She hadn’t come to harm, he reminded himself. And the duke would ensure her future safety.

The concern for her kept hold of his thoughts, and he had to turn from her to stare out the dark window and the gas lamps of London. A moment had passed between them in the theater, amid their usual sort of argument. When Josephine had looked at him with laughter in her eyes and a smile upon her lips. He had very nearly… No. He hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t thought anything. He had simply admired her smile.

Things had become increasingly more difficult for Andrew in regards to Josephine. When he returned with Simon from Ireland the year before, he’d seen Josephine anew. She wasn’t merely Simon’s little sister anymore. She was a woman grown. A beautiful woman, with a sharp intellect. And he’d had to squash all other admiring thoughts of her to avoid traveling down a path he had no right to tread.

Better not to dwell on that when there were more serious matters at hand. And when friendship with Simon, admiration for her father, and his own status as a mere baronet, kept any feeling other than concern for Josephine’s well-being at bay.

No one said another word. Not even when they arrived safely again at Dinard House. Because the Duke of Montfort always had the last say when it came to his family’s well-being.

CHAPTER 5

Somehow, Josephine’s mother convinced the duke that she had to remain in London with him. But when Josie dared ask if she might remain with her mother, thinking of seeing Emma upon her friend’s return to London, the duchess refused to even consider such a thing.

“It is one thing for me to remain here, to support my husband as he fights the prejudices of Parliament,” her mother said sternly, watching as Josephine’s maid packed her trunk. “It is another to keep our children cooped up in a London house when they might instead be safely in the country, enjoying the freedom of our castle and grounds.”

Though Josephine understood her parents’ concerns, sending her away struck her as patently unfair.

Thus, the dowager duchess, Josephine, Isabelle, Rosalind, and their governess were packed into a carriage. Lord James, her youngest sibling, was away at school and would join them at the castle when their parents did. The duke sent Simon with them. Their eldest brother kept pace on his horse outside the carriage, under orders from their father to watch over the needs of the family and castle.

Why Sir Andrew had to come, too, Josephine could not guess. Yet there he was, on the morning of their departure, astride his favorite butter-yellow mare and wearing a grin as though they embarked on an adventure rather than a retreat.