Page 55 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

Hartwell’s charm extended to everyone. Even over-eager misses. “Indeed. We were just discussing the weather. Do you generally enjoy being out of doors, Miss Hannah?”

She wafted herself with her lace fan. “Oh, goodness, no. Especially as it grows warmer.” She held the fan as though to cover her lips as she whispered, “I freckle terribly in the sun, you see.”

“A shame.” Hartwell started to turn away when she spoke again, quickly and loudly enough to discourage anyone from changing the subject.

“I understand your estate is in York, Lord Hartwell. How wonderful. I have only been to that ancient city once, but I did so admire it. Do you live in a castle, too?” Then she giggled and gestured toward Andrew’s home. “Not like this one, of course. But a real castle.”

Andrew bit his cheek to keep from smirking. Miss Hannah likely hadn’t any idea how her comment would sound. But Josephine’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, a real castle?” she asked, her voice falsely sweet and yet still more soothing in sound than Miss Hannah’s. “Sir Andrew’s castle was built under the direction of King James, and thus predates my family’s current home in age. A castle is a fortification built for the protection of the kingdom. I am quite certain Bytham Castle, new and old alike, met that criterion.”

Miss Hannah blanched and flapped her fan faster. “Oh. I didn’t mean—that is, Sir Andrew, you know I didn’t mean anything. It’s merely—well. The size is not what one usually thinks of when they think of castles, is it?” Her next giggle came out quite strained.

“I understood your meaning, Miss Hannah.” Andrew sent a reassuring glance to Josephine, who only cocked her head to one side, her cheeks filling with color. “I took no offense. When one is used to castles such as Clairvoir, my home is not what one expects.”

“I live in a large house.” Hartwell had relaxed, his amusement evident. “Not a castle. And nothing so grand as Clairvoir Castle.”

“Oh.” The young woman’s shoulders drooped. She looked at Josephine from the side of her eye. “But then, I don’t suppose anywhere is as beautiful as your home, Lady Josephine.”

“I have been in grander homes and palaces.” Josephine smoothed her dress before tipping her chin upward. “But I find the dearest places to me have less to do with their size and a great deal more to do with the people who make them into a home. Bytham Castle—” She gestured to the structure peeking through the trees. “—has always been among my favorite places.”

Andrew’s heart warmed, and he had to look away to hide how her words affected him. He knew Josephine. Knew her well enough to hear the sincerity in each word she spoke. She hadn’t been posturing for Miss Hannah Hepsworth, nor was she worried about defending him. She had stated a truth.

His hope, and his heart, soared.

* * *

When at last the time came for the picnic to come to an end, the party made their way indoors. Josephine walked with Mrs. Hepsworth, but her gaze stayed on Andrew as he led the way through his home to the front door. The clamor had fallen to a quieter, more manageable level. The children were sun-kissed and weary; the adults yawned and spoke of napping in their carriages on the way home.

The guests staying the night excused themselves to their rooms. Even the Eastman brothers, with their two massive dogs, retired. Everyone except Josephine. Those leaving walked out the front door to their waiting carriages. Josephine went out, too, until she stood directly beside Andrew.

She stood at his side as each guest took their leave, thanking everyone for coming. The rector stood before them last, and he made a point of glancing about them before he spoke.

“I must again thank you for the invitation to attend your birthday picnic, Lady Josephine. This afternoon has been among the best I have experienced since my arrival in this county.”

“You are most welcome, Mr. Wood. I am glad you enjoyed our company.” Standing beside Andrew, she looked up at him with a smile on her face. Relaxed in his presence. Happy.

“And thank you, Sir Andrew, for welcoming me into your home.” Mr. Wood adjusted the lapel of his coat, and a knowing gleam came into his eyes as he bowed. “Coming to know the two of you has been interesting, given our start. It seems the two of you are getting on better than when last we three met.”

Josephine’s cheeks warmed. She caught Andrew’s startled expression from the corner of her eye. “I believe we have resigned ourselves to the fact that we enjoy each other’s company.” She turned her head just enough to send Andrew a slanted smile. “At least, I do not find Sir Andrew nearly as vexing as I did even a fortnight ago.”

His eyes narrowed at her, and then he puffed out his chest like a preening peacock. “Vexing? You mustn’t listen to her, Mr. Wood. Lady Josephine would have you believe I am the source of all contention between the two of us.”

“Are you not the one who begins every argument?” she asked, arching her eyebrow at him and failing to hide her smile.

“When you use words like ‘every’ and ‘always,’ you are bound to be wrong some of the time. So I think I must firmly say no. I do not start every argument.” He grinned with boyish delight, and that grin made her stomach drop at the same moment it caused her pulse to double in speed.

Mr. Wood chuckled and put his hands behind his back. “Do you remember the assumption I made that day you came with your questions, my lady?”

How could she forget? The rector had thought she and Andrew had arrived at his door to seek his counsel regarding marriage. Josephine darted a glance at Andrew to see his amusement replaced by curiosity. Rather than tell him the story, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. That was enough to make his eyes grow wide.

“I remember, Mr. Wood.” She gave her attention back to the priest.

The gentleman, not much older than Andrew, broke into a wide smile. He bowed. “I hope you will remember me if things continue to change, as I suspect they will. Good day to you both.” He replaced his hat, then left them to mount his borrowed horse.

Josephine waved with her free hand, as did Andrew. Then he looked down at her, his eyes narrowed. “What was all of that about?”

“I think I have told you before.” She patted his arm lightly. “What a woman says to her ecclesiastical leader is no business of anyone else.” She slipped away from him, intending to re-enter the house. But Andrew caught her hand with his and tugged her gently back.