Page 20 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

Andrew attempted to brush away the feeling. The sensation wasn’t entirely gone, however, when he noticed Josephine behaving oddly the next day. He had almost expected her to sneak out of her room again that night and had kept listening for sound in the corridors after everyone went to bed, but there hadn’t been so much as a creak on the floor or a rustle of carpet.

But the strange behavior the next day, which only he seemed to notice, made him wonder once more what she might be up to.

It started at breakfast, when Josephine arrived earlier than Simon but at nearly the same time as her younger sisters and their governess.

Josephine said little until Rosalind brought up the idea of visiting the village.

“We must ask your brother for permission, dear,” Mrs. Robinson said, hardly looking up from her plate. The woman had a motherly way about her, especially after she’d had her morning tea. “In your parents’ absence, Lord Farleigh decides what is prudent.”

“We cannot be in any danger here,” Isabelle said, looking to Josephine and then Andrew for confirmation. “The people here are not like those in London. There is no reason for us to stay locked up in the castle.”

“No one is locking you up, Isabelle.” Josephine’s lips twitched, then she pushed her food about on her plate, giving it more attention than her sister as she said, “But I do not think you ought to hope for such an outing so soon after arriving home. Simon may still be affected by what happened in London. If I were you, and I wanted to be certain of approval, I would wait until everyone has settled in at the castle before trying to leave it.”

“That sounds rather sly of you.” Andrew had already finished eating his breakfast and waited only for Simon before excusing himself. While he might not be under Simon’s charge, he had accompanied his friend to be of use to him. Checking to ascertain whether he was needed first thing was the polite thing to do.

“Not sly,” Josephine protested, laying her fork down without tasting anything. “Though I will say I have some experience in getting our parents to see things more favorably than they might if I made requests the moment they came into my head. I cannot see why Simon would be any different.”

“You cannot mean to say that you manipulate your parents.” Andrew had to scoff at that. He knew no two people so clever and level-headed as the Duke and Duchess of Montfort. “I imagine they allow you to think you have an influence on their decisions more than what it is in reality.”

“Oh dear,” Rosalind whispered into her spoon of fried potatoes.

Before Andrew could ask what distressed Rosalind, Josephine had squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at him. Rather as though she prepared herself for battle. Rosalind had perceived the pending argument before he had readied himself for it.

It was early yet for their usual volley of words, but Andrew folded his arms and grinned at Josephine in that way he knew she found most irritating. He canted his head to one side and let her see his amusement.

“I do not manipulate anyone. I merely wait until the most opportune moment to ask my questions or make my requests. I use sound judgement, nothing underhanded. I cannot believe you would imply such a thing about me, Sir Andrew.”

“Lady Josephine.” He threw her title back at her, drawing it out more than necessary. “The most opportune moment? You sound as though you view yourself as a strategist.”

“Indeed, I certainly do. As my parents have raised me to embrace strategy and logic in my education, they would find no fault with it.” She sounded almost haughty, and that one eyebrow arched up slowly. It was the way she ended arguments she thought she had won—that eyebrow.

Andrew wouldn’t cede to her this time. “I would think a duke’s daughter capable of both those things, though I doubt her parents would mean for her to practice such skills on them when she wants some new frippery, or to attend a soiree, or requires more pin money.” He knew well enough that Josephine didn’t exude the usual airs of spoiled nobility. No one in her family would stand for it, especially the duke. But she knew her place in Society well enough to take advantage of it from time to time.

He doubted she could help it. One born to such high privilege rarely knew what such a thing would mean to those watching her exercise it every day of her life.

“You make my capabilities sound incredibly trite, Sir Andrew.” She mirrored him, tilting her head at precisely the angle he held his own. “While I cannot imagine what you have against common sense, as that is all I would call my ability to wait until a situation favors my arguments or requests, I am quite aware that you rarely exercise it yourself.”

It took a measure of control not to laugh aloud at her expert thrust. Especially when he heard Isabelle’s mutter of, “Here we go again.” The family was all too familiar with their battles of wit. Usually, everyone ignored them.

He meant to win this battle today, too. “You needn’t concern yourself with my senses, any of them, or lack thereof. I manage perfectly well.” He tapped the arm of his chair with one finger. “Though I should like to know an example of your superior skills. Tell me, my lady, can you think of a time when you have so neatly presented your requests, as you say, to your dear parents?”

A light pink hue tinted the apples of her cheeks. She glanced at her sisters. “It is not as though I performed a coup of some sort. As I said, it is only logic. Common sense. I never ask Papa for something I would like when he is in an unfavorable mood.”

“You must explain to me with greater detail, or I am afraid I may never understand.” Andrew leaned forward, toward her side of the table. “Surely you have at least one example you might share, for everyone’s enlightenment?”

Before she could answer, Simon came into the room. He wore clothing for riding, which gave Andrew pause. He hadn’t planned on either of them getting on the back of their horses again so soon.

“Do you know how much I enjoy beginning my day listening to the two of you argue?” he asked, his face a mask of disinterest. “Good morning, Mrs. Robinson. Isabelle. Rosalind.” He looked from Andrew to Josephine. “Combatants.”

“That isn’t at all fair,” Josephine chided. “We do not argue every morning.”

Andrew caught the two younger sisters exchanging another exasperated glance and had to chuckle. “Only most mornings,” he admitted for them both.

“Dare I ask what it is this time?” Simon directed the question not at his friend or sister nearest him in age, but to Rosalind, the youngest at the table.

She settled her hands together upon the table. “Josephine has claimed she is an expert at getting what she wants from our parents by timing her approach to them. Andrew is demanding an example that she has yet to give.”

“Is that all?” Simon nodded to a footman to bring him hot coffee. “A fairly mild topic for the two of you.” He did not quite smile at Josephine, though Andrew thought his friend’s eyes twinkled with amusement.