Page 25 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“Then I suppose the two of you will take the road.” Josephine gave him her sweetest smile, batting her lashes at him. “And I will return home the way I came. Alone, via the shortcut.”

“Josie.” Andrew released a put-upon sigh. “I am not leaving you to walk home alone. You should never have come that way to begin with.” They were through the village and coming down the last little hill before meeting the road that would wind through the wood and take them upward to the castle. Not a walk for one to make unless they were quite sure of their legs.

“You and my brother come and go as you please,” she returned, keeping her voice airy and light. “I cannot see why it’s so difficult for you to believe me capable—”

Andrew’s hand caught hers, his gloved fingers firm, and he stopped Josephine where she stood. She turned to glare at him, though she did not give him the satisfaction of tugging her hand away. Which may have been a mistake on her part.

Because Andrew stepped closer, putting them merely a hand’s breadth apart. He gave her a stern look. “I believe you are perfectly capable, my dear Josie.”

For some odd reason, her throat closed up, making her throat go dry. He stood too near for politeness’ sake. But then, when was Andrew ever polite to her? “Th-thank you.”

He squeezed her hand at the same moment his lop-sided grin appeared. “Capable of getting yourself in trouble.” He released her before she had the satisfaction of pulling away. He chuckled and kept walking.

Josephine hurried to catch up to him. But she kept to the opposite side of the road. She’d learned her lesson when it came to allowing him near. It addled her too much for her comfort. “Trouble? When have I ever found trouble without your involvement?”

“The Arcade comes to mind.” He kept walking, wearing an infuriating and superior expression. “Or after the theater, when you became separated from your family and the guards.”

“Again, you were with me both times. One could surmise those things were your fault.”

“Really?” He looked across the lane at her. “What would you have done at the Arcade, had I not been there?”

“Sterling was with me. He kept me safe.”

“Without confronting the troublemakers.”

“That is not his job. He is only to keep the family from harm.”

“And allow others to be disturbed, insulted, and possibly hurt.”

He had a point, but Josephine could not let him know it. “That is not the point. The point is, I would have been safe.”

“Because you had your guard. Where is Sterling now, Josephine?” He demanded of her, driving his point deeper. “At the castle. Unaware of the fact that you are far from its walls. Does anyone know where you went? When will they know you are missing if you do not return? Hours from now?”

A drop of water landed on the bridge of her nose. She wiped it away, irritated at the distraction.

“No one will know I have gone,” she snapped, fuming. Why had Simon sent Andrew after her? Why not a guard? They wouldn’t attempt to scold her. None of them would say a word to her. They would follow in silence.

Andrew had the terrible habit of telling her exactly what he thought. All the time. Whenever it pleased him. Even if she did not care what he had to say, or he only wished to tease her.

“What if you became lost?” he asked, stopping to bark the question at her. “Or turned your ankle on a tree root and could not walk unassisted? When would we know to come for you? How would anyone know where to find you?”

She jerked her gaze away from his, unsettled by his hard stare. Annoyed that he made a valid point in his argument. “Nothing happened.”

“What if someone would have come upon you, walking all alone, Josie?” Andrew’s voice dropped, his tone deep and concerned. “An enemy to your father, perhaps. A tenant who felt wronged. A poacher. Anyone with a black heart, for that matter, coming upon a defenseless woman wandering about without a chaperone or protector. What would you do if someone meant to hurt you?”

She bit her lip as cold shame washed through her. She knew better. Of course she did. But she had a purpose in going alone. Everything to do with her book, her writing, she had done alone. It belonged to her and no one else. The words on the page, the research, the hours spent day-dreaming in the tower, even the puzzling rejection letter, they were all hers.

Setting out on her own had seemed right at the time. But now, beneath the weight of Andrew’s words, she recognized the truth of what she had done. She had behaved selfishly. So much so that Josephine knew how disappointed her parents would be if they ever found out.

And she had accomplished her goal, even with Andrew attending her. A guard wouldn’t have questioned her, either. She would have stayed safe, as her parents wished, and still accomplished her purpose.

Her jaw quivered. But she would not cry. Not in front of Andrew. Never would she give him that satisfaction. Except her chest tightened uncomfortably. Her eyes grew hot. Raindrops pattered along the back of her neck, between her bonnet and gown.

How had she acted so exceptionally foolish? And why did Andrew have to be the person to point it out to her?

* * *

Sensing his words had at last made the duke’s eldest daughter think on more than her own designs, Andrew drew closer to her. He kept one hand gripped tightly on Honey’s lead. The other he used to touch Josephine’s cheek, tilting her chin up, so she had to face him.