Page 13 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

His friend stopped mid-stride and looked at the closed door. “Sometimes, I think I might enjoy his place more than my own.” He took up his stick in both hands, looking down at the wood casing with furrowed brow. “Do you think my father overreacted by sending us away?”

Andrew tipped his head to the side, studying his friend and trying to determine what the other man needed to hear. “I have rarely questioned your father’s motives for anything. While I know he isn’t infallible, I have yet to see evidence of it.”

Simon twisted the top of his walking stick and drew the blade a few inches from its casing. The metal caught the candlelight and reflected the soft orange glow. “I have trained all my life to defend myself, and we have discussed as a family what to do if one of us is ever held for ransom. We have contingency plans for everything. Secret rooms. Hidden caches of funds. As a boy, I thought for certain we would never have need of any of it. Now.” He re-sheathed the blade completely and tucked the stick beneath his arm. “Now I almost wish we would, if only to justify all that training.”

“Understandable.” Andrew pushed away from the door and went to one of the overstuffed sofas. “Yet I have heard your father say that it is better for a man of peace to prepare for war than to only hope it never comes to that.”

“You needn’t quote my own father to me.” Simon’s smile was slight, but it was amused. “I could fill a book with his proverbs.” He went to the fireplace and laid his stick atop the hearth. “I wish he had let me stay in London. Sending me as escort to Grandmother and my sisters wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“You’re the heir.” Andrew shrugged. “Tucking you away safe and sound is habit by now.”

Simon exhaled sharply. “Habit or not, I could have helped in London.”

Though Andrew didn’t presume to know the mind of a duke, he did know his friend well enough to recognize him wallowing in self-pity. “Your father has more help than he needs. And besides that, did you ever think he didn’t send you to get you out of harm’s way, so much as because he trusts you with the well-being of the people he loves most?”

“What do you mean? The girls?”

“Of course. Your sisters mean the world to the duke and duchess. They send your grandmother for propriety’s sake, then they send you because they trust you to look after things in their absence.” Andrew smirked and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “Your father is a lion of a man. He would never leave his daughters without protection.”

Though Simon said nothing to that, he appeared thoughtful. Finally, he said, “Have I thanked you for joining us?”

“Not properly.” Andrew grinned, and prepared to say more, but the door opened.

Sterling, dressed in the plain clothing of a servant, waited for Lady Josephine to enter before closing the door behind her. Andrew rose, as was polite. She came into the room dressed for dinner, her hair arranged simply with a handful of pearls peeking out from beneath her dark curls. She looked from Simon to Andrew, and he noted the tension in her expression with interest.

“Grandmama and the girls are not down yet?”

“As you see,” Simon said, gesturing to the empty seats. “They only left to prepare for dinner a quarter hour ago. Grandmother lamented that you did not join us earlier, so be prepared for her to bring that up.”

Her eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of her nose. “Oh, bother. I did not think anyone would mind if I rested alone. We spent all of today talking.” She settled on the opposite end of Andrew’s couch, allowing him to retake his seat.

“I recall you mentioning that before,” Andrew said, slanting a smile in her direction. “You said it was pleasant. How could you not wish for more of the same?”

With her posture absolutely perfect, Josephine turned her head to give him the benefit of her full attention. “Have you never heard of moderation in all things, Sir Andrew?”

“Certainly. I studied the Greek poets along with your brother. But I doubt you mean to avoid more time with your grandmother in order to appease some sort of philosophical goal.” He settled more comfortably in his seat, and she immediately stiffened. “What have you been doing all this time? I might presume a nap, except you still carry a look of fatigue about you.”

She narrowed her dark blue eyes at him. “One should not insult a lady by saying she looks tired, Sir Andrew. Your studies are lacking if you think that is acceptable.” She folded her hands in her lap and twisted her ring about her finger. “I was resting.”

Andrew looked to Simon, who he found staring at him with one raised eyebrow—the duke’s trick he had passed on to all his children. That simple gesture could mean a multitude of things, and the duke himself used it to great advantage. At the moment, Simon seemed to convey his amusement.

“It is a pity you must ride in that carriage all day,” Simon said. “Even if you enjoy the conversation as much as Andrew says you do.”

Josephine’s smile was brief and faltering. “I know. If only the two of you had brought a carriage, too. I might have switched from one to the other when the enjoyable conversation grew too taxing.”

The duke had kept their second family conveyance in town, for his eventual return to Clairvoir Castle with their mother.

Something more bothered Josephine than her time spent in the carriage. Andrew could sense it. But was it only her fatigue? He saw evidence of that easily enough. “Would you prefer to ride?” he asked, trying to tease another reaction from her. “I will trade my seat atop Honey for one in the carriage, if you wish.”

“If I thought you were the least bit serious, I might take you up on the idea.” Her lips tightened into a smile. “Though I suppose riding side-saddle all day would have its own unpleasantness.”

“Riding astride certainly does,” Simon muttered on the other side of the room.

Josephine’s smile melted away. “Do you think Papa and Mama will be all right in London? If there really is danger for us there, how can they stay?”

“It depends on what happens next, Josie.” Simon folded his arms, turning to face his sister fully, his expression stern. “If father has fewer family members to worry over, his concentration can turn to Parliament and making things better. With all of us in Town, coming and going as we please, he could never be certain we were safe. Especially if crowds like the one at the theater keep gathering.”

“No one has been hurt yet,” Andrew added. “But it’s only a matter of time until tempers grow too hot, or someone grows too impatient.”