Page 31 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

Andrew rubbed the back of his neck as he studied the top of her dark hair, all swirls of deep brown and green ribbon. How could he convince her that he would keep her secret? What would it take to gain her confidence?

And why did it matter to him so much?

“Where did the carpets come from?” he asked, surprising her enough that Josephine lifted her gaze to his again. She lifted one eyebrow. That familiar arch look gave him permission to lean closer, drawing his brows together. “I cannot imagine you dragged them up here all on your own, but if no one knows of this room—”

“I brought them up. I borrowed them.” She brushed at her gown. “They were from the old castle, left in closets here and there.”

“No one caught you or thought to wonder why the duke’s eldest daughter dragged old carpets around the castle?”

“I am quite good at being secretive.” Her lips turned up in a wry—though brief—smile. “Until of late.”

He chuckled. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You are a determined woman when you put your mind to something.” He let his words sink in, the compliment sincerely meant, and waited for her to fill the silence.

She pulled in a deep breath, looked down the steps behind him as though to be certain no one else waited to discover her, and then met his gaze with a steady one of her own. “Will you promise not to speak of this to anyone else?”

“Josie.” He spoke the shortened, familiar form of her name with a gentle smile. “If you aren’t doing anything dangerous,” he said, “I have no reason to share your secret with anyone.”

Her lips curled upward. “It is Josephine to you, Andrew.”

“Not Lady Josephine?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat when he noted the tilt of her head. She had assessed him. And he had not been found wanting.

“Not if we are to share a secret, I suppose.” She waved a hand between them dismissively. “And we have known each other since I was a child.” She stepped back one step, then two. “Come in. The view from the window is lovely—and if you are to know my secret, I need to show you something.”

* * *

When Emma had first come up to Josephine’s tower, she had felt a thrill of excitement and hope. When Andrew took the last step inside, she marked a distinct difference in her feelings. Her heart pounded harder, and her cheeks grew warm. Her stomach twisted, though not unpleasantly, and she very much wanted to run and hide.

But there was no place to go. They were both in the tower. Alone. The room shrinking around them with each passing second.

Andrew walked by her to go to the window, and he looked out at the view as she had suggested. Saying nothing. Waiting for her to get her bearings, most likely. It was quite gentlemanly of him, even if he had threatened to expose her secret to her brother mere minutes before. As Simon’s friend, she supposed Andrew owed her brother more loyalty.

Yet Andrew had already proven himself by not mentioning her trip to the village to anyone.

Josephine went to her pile of cushions and sat, as delicately as one could sit on the ground. She checked that her skirts covered all they should. Once she had organized her skirts and thoughts, she studied Andrew.

He stood in profile, peering out the window she had left slightly ajar. His light-brown hair looked gold, thanks to the yellow stained glass behind him. He made the room feel tiny, even though he wasn’t a giant of a man. Not like her father. His head almost brushed the ceiling.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked. “That first night we returned to the castle, and now.”

Andrew glanced her direction and shrugged. “I promised your father I would help Simon look after everyone. Your sneaking about seemed strange. I have never known you to be secretive, in all my years as a friend to the family. I thought you might need looking after.”

“Is that why you followed me into the Burlington Arcade, too?” Josephine tucked her hands in her lap.

“Not at all.” His teeth flashed as he smiled, then he lowered himself to the ground on his side of the circular room. Keeping a civil distance between them. “At the Arcade, I had every intention of disrupting your outing in as tedious a way as possible. For my own amusement.”

A laugh escaped her. “You are ridiculous.”

“I have never denied it.”

Josephine smiled, and a cord around her heart loosened. She had been so lonely without Emma, and then separated from her parents, sent to the country while most of her peers remained in London. There had been no one to talk to. Not even Simon, busy as he had made himself with running the castle.

Perhaps Andrew sensed her need for a friend, and for once, he had chosen to sympathize with her rather than antagonize her. Though she could not know his reasoning, she allowed herself to be grateful. Just this once.

“What do you do up here, Josephine?” Andrew stretched one leg out and kept the other bent, putting his elbow on his knee and letting his posture relax. “Sit and daydream?”

“No. Well. Not entirely.” She glanced again at the little traveling desk, and the books she had stacked on top of it. “I suppose you could call part of it daydreaming. Mostly, I write.”

After a stretch of contemplative silence, he repeated back to her, “You write?”