Debauchery and the Earl, page 9
“Because I heard them.” Quickly, he related what he had overheard at the abbey ruin, but her reaction was hardly what he expected.
She threw down the bonnet and sat in the armchair. “No. She may well be pregnant, but Calton is not the father.”
“My dear,” he drawled, not quite pleased, “that sounds like wishful thinking.”
She shrugged impatiently. “Because you don’t know Calton. He goes to great efforts not to breed. And he has no interest in bedding innocent young girls. His tastes are far more sophisticated and besides, his peculiar sense of honor precludes it. Whoever is the father of Josephine Blackwell’s child, it is not Calton.”
“Then why is he involved in such discussion?”
Her lips twisted. “Quixotic chivalry, I imagine. He is more subject to it than he would like the world to think. But this is useful information, Cyril. We just have to decide how best to use it… For example, in extracting a better marriage settlement from her father.”
She was right, of course. When one held such a powerful card, one didn’t want to rush into playing it too soon. But at least he found an early opportunity to test the water, as it were, when he was lucky enough to run—almost literally—into Josephine on the stairs on his way down to dinner.
She catapulted onto the landing from the other guest corridor and skidded to a halt at the sight of him, trying to gather back her dignity no doubt.
A quick glance up and down the staircase assured him they were temporarily alone.
“Miss Josephine, how fortunate for me. Won’t you take my arm?”
“Only if you, too, are in a hurry, sir,” she said. “I seem to have dawdled and missed the rest of my family.” When he proffered his arm, she only hesitated a moment before laying her fingers on his sleeve.
He smiled and patted her hand before squeezing it and drawing it more intimately into the crook of his elbow. “I must say, I am very glad to have come upon you alone. It is so difficult at these affairs to find any opportunity for private speech.”
Her eyes widened. “You wish to say something privately?” She sounded more dubious than intrigued.
He smiled. “But of course! A gentleman always has something to say to a pretty young lady. Let me begin by begging you to save me a dance at tomorrow night’s ball.”
“One of us will forget,” she said unexpectedly. “We are much better waiting until we run into each other at the right time.”
He laughed to make her believe she was witty. “How delightful you are. I will still ask for the supper dance, though I am happy to discuss the matter further.”
She had a delectable neck, and now that he was close enough, he couldn’t resist leaning closer with the urge to press his lips to her skin. Subtly, she eased away, increasing the distance between them once more. She even tried to increase their pace down the staircase, but he was stronger and prevented it easily.
“In fact,” he murmured. “We could have that discussion this evening if you would care to meet in the garden later.”
Her gaze flew to his face, and he thought, triumphantly, that he had her.
Then she said coldly, “That would hardly be proper, sir.”
“Oh, come,” he said, smiling, “I like a lady with a little spirit. And how else are we to get to know each other?”
Her gaze was steady. “I believe we are not,” she said, making an effort to withdraw her hand, which he would not allow.
“My dear girl, I know all about you. There is no need to play off virginal airs on me.”
Something sharp and heavy landed on his instep, causing him to grunt with pain.
“You are offensive,” she uttered and stalked away toward the drawing room, where a footman opened the door for her and closed it again before Gough could limp after her.
By God, she did have spirit, and he would thoroughly enjoy taming her.
Chapter Nine
Mr. Gough’s behavior upset Josephine. Not just because he clearly felt entitled to accost and insult her—she had chased off such men before—but because of the nature of his insult. Virginal airs. Had he somehow got wind of Helena’s condition and jumped to the conclusion that they were both easy pickings?
The footman at the drawing room door could not have heard the words—except her last—but he clearly spotted offensive behavior for he opened the door and closed it smartly behind her, giving her more time to find a safe refuge before admitting the noxious Gough. Without plan or thought, she scanned the room and found her sanctuary with relief.
Only later did she recall that he was standing with a group of men and that she had walked straight past Aunt Darling to get to him. Her need for him was instinctive. As though sensing her agitation, he glanced toward her and immediately peeled away from his companions to meet her.
She laid her trembling hand on his arm with the exact opposite of the feeling with which she had earlier taken Gough’s. And Calton strolled with her to the window seat. When she had sunk onto it, he sat on the edge, turning his body toward her in a way that protected her from the sight of most in the room.
“I met Gough on the staircase,” she blurted. “I think he knows.”
“Why should you think that?” he asked, his voice light and somehow steadying.
“He accused me of playing off virginal airs.”
“Did he, by God?” Calton’s gaze was fixed on hers, carefully expressionless. “And why would you have felt the need to do so?”
“Because he invited me to dance at the ball and then to an assignation, both of which I refused.”
“He won’t trouble you again,” Calton said calmly. “As for those virginal airs, it is just a saying, you know. It needn’t mean anything. All the same, I’ll take steps to ensure no one takes his malice seriously.”
Josephine regarded him with fascination. “What steps?”
“Oh, a word here and there,” he said vaguely. “But the sooner your sister’s position is fixed, the easier we may all be.”
He stood as a footman appeared with a tray of sherry glasses and took two with a nod of thanks. She liked that about him. He acknowledged even the smallest services, without fuss. Sitting once more, he presented her with a glass.
“Fortunately,” he said, “Lady Wenning has declared informal dining this evening since we shall all retire early in preparation for tomorrow’s ball. So, I may ask for the honor of taking you into dinner.”
A flush rose to her face. “Thank you, but you don’t need to. I am perfectly fine, now.”
“I never feel obliged to do anything,” he said lazily. “I am, as you know, devoted to my own pleasures.”
“I know no such thing,” she retorted.
“Is that an ungracious acceptance?”
She laughed. “No. But this is gracious acceptance. Thank you. Oh, but what if Gough pesters Helena?”
“I think we may rely on Talley. Besides, your father is in the room now. Gough will behave.”
By the time they went into dinner, the incident with Gough had receded to trivial in Josephine’s mind, and she merely let herself enjoy Lord Calton’s company. Calton’s attention. For although neither of them was rude enough to ignore the person on their other side, it was to Josephine that the earl largely devoted himself, which was a heady experience, intoxicating, even. If he flirted—and it was clearly part of his nature to do so—it was with a light touch and well within the bounds of propriety. Mostly, they talked and said nothing that anyone could not hear. And yet, when she rose from the table with the other ladies to follow her hostess to the drawing room, she was conscious chiefly of a pleasant little buzz of happiness within her.
Helena took her arm as they walked. “Lord Calton seems to be paying you particular attention.”
“He is polite.”
“So is Talley.”
Talley had taken Helena into dinner and the pair had sat opposite Josephine and Calton.
“No more than polite?” Josephine asked.
Helena smiled, and Josephine was delighted to see that sparkle back in her eyes. “Well, perhaps a little bit more. I have been…friendlier, and he seems pleased.”
Josephine squeezed her arm.
But it seemed her sister was not the only one to have noticed Calton’s attentions. Aunt Darling flitted across the floor to sit beside her.
“Calton would be a great thing,” she said without preamble, “but don’t let yourself get carried away. He is a shocking flirt and is likely to be gone by the end of the week. Still, he likes you, anyone can see that.”
“And he is not looking to marry,” Josephine said, trying not to blush. “I remember.”
All the same, it was a timely reminder, and one reinforced by Mrs. Reddington only a quarter of an hour later. As Josephine crossed the room toward her sister and Lady Sayle, Mrs. Reddington spoke her name, smiling, and patted the vacant seat beside her on the sofa. Since there was no polite way to refuse, Josephine sat.
“I never had the chance to compliment you on your singing last night,” Mrs. Reddington said pleasantly.
If one was being literal, she still had not done so, but Josephine merely murmured, “Thank you. We were lucky enough to have good teachers, and we both enjoy music.”
“You must go to the opera in London during the Season.”
“I would like to.”
“Then you have been enjoying your time in Town?”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Reddington smiled, though her eyes were like those of a cat playing with its prey. “You will do well. You are pretty and original. And it does no harm to have caught Calton’s eye.”
“As to that, I—”
“Hush child. As long as it is only his eye, he can only do you good. But I daresay your aunt has already warned you against him. Enjoy his attentions while they last, Miss Josephine, for he is a fickle man and has stated often enough that he has no intention of marrying.”
Josephine lifted her chin. “I do not look to marry him.”
Mrs. Reddington paused, as though suspecting the ambiguity in her remark. Something more than surprise flashed in her eyes before the smile came back. “Good. For he has some nasty habits he will never give up.”
“I have no interest in nasty habits and must bow to your greater knowledge. You will excuse me? My sister is beckoning.”
As she went to join Helena, Josephine wanted to fan herself, just to cool her anger. How dare the woman talk to her like that? How dare she traduce Calton like that?
Because she knows him in ways I never will.
The thought was lowering, until another, much more elevating, sprang unexpectedly into her mind. Because she is jealous. She sees me as a threat.
Perhaps he was as aware as she that their closeness over dinner had been noted, for when the gentlemen rejoined them in the drawing room, he did not approach her. Neither did Gough, which had been her major fear. She wondered if Calton had said something to him, and if so, what?
Tea was served but the only entertainment was the odd game of cards, in which Calton joined. Only as Aunt Darling shepherded her nieces from the room in the wake of several others, did he appear to notice her. He glanced up as they walked past his card table and caught her eye. His smile was both spontaneous and melting, and it stayed with her as she went up to bed.
Later, lying in the darkness, she thought seriously about finding her way to the library again. Just in case Calton was there. The very idea ignited her body into memory and new desire. Of course, she could not look for him again, or she would become the woman Gough already believed her to be. And she would die rather than have Calton think she was hunting him.
And yet I am, she thought in a sudden flurry of self-knowledge. Perhaps I will wait just another half hour and then…
*
“He warned me off!” Gough fumed. “How dare he?”
Selina, lying alluringly in bed while Gough paced, sighed and gave into the inevitable. “What exactly did he say?”
“Oh, amiable as you please, he told me he was a friend of the Darlings and the Blackwells and that he would always take any threat, insult, or offense against them very seriously.”
Selina sat up. “Did he, indeed?” she said slowly. Did she need to be worried by this flirtation after all? She was already concerned enough to have warned the girl off, though that had hardly gone down quite as expected. Insolent chit. “Was he threatening to call you out? Just because you spoke to her on the staircase?”
“She is a flighty little thing. I might have upset her.”
“You were clumsy,” Selina guessed. Really, decent allies were hard to find these days. Whether or not she got Calton back—and no lover had ever made her feel as good—she wasn’t sure she could bear much more of Cyril Gough. Mind you, she had underestimated the girl herself and handled her badly. So, there was only one way to take her out of Selina’s way. “Ignore her. Go to the father. Offer marriage, now. When it comes to arranging settlements is time enough to state your financial requirements. Secure the engagement quickly.”
“And if either of them refuses?”
“Why would they? The girl is enceinte, and she needs a husband immediately. Calton won’t marry her.” At least she hoped to God he wouldn’t. Marriage to another wouldn’t necessarily keep him from other women’s beds, but she could not bear that girl to have what Selina herself could not.
Gough sat on the bed, tugging off his cravat in a thoughtful kind of way. He began to smile. “Damn me, you’re right,” he said, springing to his feet. He all but tore off his breeches and fell upon her in sudden and ungentle passion. She was happy enough to let him have his way, provided he did as she bade him, though she did miss the finesse of a considerate lover. Like Calton, who could give as well as take. And who never muttered another woman’s name as he reached for his pleasure in her body.
*
Josephine did not know whether to be glad or relieved when she woke up the next morning. Clearly, she had fallen asleep before she could commit the folly of scouring the house at night in search of Lord Calton.
The thought made her giggle, for no matter how shocking her new desires and behavior, a deep, warm happiness was glowing within her that had all to do with him. And they were under the same roof.
These pleasurable feelings lasted through breakfast and a lively walk with Helena, Talley, Calton, and the Sayles. Although she had no time alone with Calton, just being in his company along with friends was another new delight. By the time they returned to the house, where all was in preparation for the evening’s ball, more guests had arrived who would stay overnight. Making her way through mountains of baggage, footmen, maids, and valets, Josephine’s attention was caught by her father, beckoning her from one of the ground floor reception rooms.
She changed direction to meet him and preceded him into the room. He followed and closed the door, giving them sudden, blessed quiet.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, somewhat surprised since she could count on one hand the number of times her father had summoned her for a private meeting. If he had something to impart, he generally did so during dinner or some other routine encounter.
“Oh, no.” His frown smoothed and he smiled faintly. “Quite the contrary, in fact. At least, I believe so. I have just received an offer for your hand in marriage.”
Her heart seemed to jump into her throat. “You have?” she managed.
He peered at her. A man used to reading the expressions and tones of his fellow diplomats, of sovereigns, and high-ranking government officials, was not so confident with his own family. “You are not as surprised as I.”
Her heart seemed to be back in its proper place though it beat a quick, hard tattoo against her ribs. She felt as if she were about to explode with anticipation, with impossible happiness. “I am waiting to hear who made this offer and what was your reply.”
“Mr. Gough,” Papa said, still watching her. “Viscount Denzil’s heir, you know.”
Gough? She stared at her father aghast. “So, he told me at our first meeting. What did you answer?”
“That you were of age to make your own decision, but that I would speak to you and let him know your decision. Do you want to speak to him before you make up your mind?”
“No!”
Papa blinked. “Is this girlish nerves? Or do you not favor his suit?”
“The latter. It never entered my head he meant marriage.”
“I fail to see what else he could mean to the gently bred daughter of a gentleman.”
Josephine veered away from that discussion. She did not wish to be whisked home out of Calton’s orbit just yet. “Well, I hope you are not set on it, Papa, for I definitely do not wish to marry Mr. Gough.”
“Then I shall tell him your decision, and there is an end of the matter.” His gaze lingered, though and he did not dismiss her. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”
“Such as what?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t believe so. Helena and I are both looking forward to the ball.”
“I’m glad to hear it. She has been looking somewhat pale recently, so it’s good to see her enjoying herself again.”
Josephine almost spilled out her hopes of Talley, but the secrets surrounding her sister’s relationship with the Frenchman were too close, and not Josephine’s to tell. So, she merely agreed cordially, “It is, isn’t it?” And was relieved when her father nodded dismissal.
*
“A word with you, Gough?”
The words, addressed to him by Mr. Blackwell, just as the guests were gathering for tea, made him smile. He even threw a wink at Selina beside him before he turned and followed Blackwell into Wenning’s library, which was deserted.
“Sir?” Gough said, trying not to smirk as he closed the door and turned to face his future father-in-law.
“I wanted to tell you with all speed and in private that I have spoken to my daughter. Sadly, while she and I are both grateful for the honor you show her, she does not favor your suit.”
Gough felt his jaw drop. “Does not…”
“Exactly.”
Gough drew himself up to his full height, which might have been an inch taller than the older man, though somehow, he did not feel it. “And am I not owed an interview with the lady herself? Is she not possessed of respect enough to answer my honorable proposal in person?”
She threw down the bonnet and sat in the armchair. “No. She may well be pregnant, but Calton is not the father.”
“My dear,” he drawled, not quite pleased, “that sounds like wishful thinking.”
She shrugged impatiently. “Because you don’t know Calton. He goes to great efforts not to breed. And he has no interest in bedding innocent young girls. His tastes are far more sophisticated and besides, his peculiar sense of honor precludes it. Whoever is the father of Josephine Blackwell’s child, it is not Calton.”
“Then why is he involved in such discussion?”
Her lips twisted. “Quixotic chivalry, I imagine. He is more subject to it than he would like the world to think. But this is useful information, Cyril. We just have to decide how best to use it… For example, in extracting a better marriage settlement from her father.”
She was right, of course. When one held such a powerful card, one didn’t want to rush into playing it too soon. But at least he found an early opportunity to test the water, as it were, when he was lucky enough to run—almost literally—into Josephine on the stairs on his way down to dinner.
She catapulted onto the landing from the other guest corridor and skidded to a halt at the sight of him, trying to gather back her dignity no doubt.
A quick glance up and down the staircase assured him they were temporarily alone.
“Miss Josephine, how fortunate for me. Won’t you take my arm?”
“Only if you, too, are in a hurry, sir,” she said. “I seem to have dawdled and missed the rest of my family.” When he proffered his arm, she only hesitated a moment before laying her fingers on his sleeve.
He smiled and patted her hand before squeezing it and drawing it more intimately into the crook of his elbow. “I must say, I am very glad to have come upon you alone. It is so difficult at these affairs to find any opportunity for private speech.”
Her eyes widened. “You wish to say something privately?” She sounded more dubious than intrigued.
He smiled. “But of course! A gentleman always has something to say to a pretty young lady. Let me begin by begging you to save me a dance at tomorrow night’s ball.”
“One of us will forget,” she said unexpectedly. “We are much better waiting until we run into each other at the right time.”
He laughed to make her believe she was witty. “How delightful you are. I will still ask for the supper dance, though I am happy to discuss the matter further.”
She had a delectable neck, and now that he was close enough, he couldn’t resist leaning closer with the urge to press his lips to her skin. Subtly, she eased away, increasing the distance between them once more. She even tried to increase their pace down the staircase, but he was stronger and prevented it easily.
“In fact,” he murmured. “We could have that discussion this evening if you would care to meet in the garden later.”
Her gaze flew to his face, and he thought, triumphantly, that he had her.
Then she said coldly, “That would hardly be proper, sir.”
“Oh, come,” he said, smiling, “I like a lady with a little spirit. And how else are we to get to know each other?”
Her gaze was steady. “I believe we are not,” she said, making an effort to withdraw her hand, which he would not allow.
“My dear girl, I know all about you. There is no need to play off virginal airs on me.”
Something sharp and heavy landed on his instep, causing him to grunt with pain.
“You are offensive,” she uttered and stalked away toward the drawing room, where a footman opened the door for her and closed it again before Gough could limp after her.
By God, she did have spirit, and he would thoroughly enjoy taming her.
Chapter Nine
Mr. Gough’s behavior upset Josephine. Not just because he clearly felt entitled to accost and insult her—she had chased off such men before—but because of the nature of his insult. Virginal airs. Had he somehow got wind of Helena’s condition and jumped to the conclusion that they were both easy pickings?
The footman at the drawing room door could not have heard the words—except her last—but he clearly spotted offensive behavior for he opened the door and closed it smartly behind her, giving her more time to find a safe refuge before admitting the noxious Gough. Without plan or thought, she scanned the room and found her sanctuary with relief.
Only later did she recall that he was standing with a group of men and that she had walked straight past Aunt Darling to get to him. Her need for him was instinctive. As though sensing her agitation, he glanced toward her and immediately peeled away from his companions to meet her.
She laid her trembling hand on his arm with the exact opposite of the feeling with which she had earlier taken Gough’s. And Calton strolled with her to the window seat. When she had sunk onto it, he sat on the edge, turning his body toward her in a way that protected her from the sight of most in the room.
“I met Gough on the staircase,” she blurted. “I think he knows.”
“Why should you think that?” he asked, his voice light and somehow steadying.
“He accused me of playing off virginal airs.”
“Did he, by God?” Calton’s gaze was fixed on hers, carefully expressionless. “And why would you have felt the need to do so?”
“Because he invited me to dance at the ball and then to an assignation, both of which I refused.”
“He won’t trouble you again,” Calton said calmly. “As for those virginal airs, it is just a saying, you know. It needn’t mean anything. All the same, I’ll take steps to ensure no one takes his malice seriously.”
Josephine regarded him with fascination. “What steps?”
“Oh, a word here and there,” he said vaguely. “But the sooner your sister’s position is fixed, the easier we may all be.”
He stood as a footman appeared with a tray of sherry glasses and took two with a nod of thanks. She liked that about him. He acknowledged even the smallest services, without fuss. Sitting once more, he presented her with a glass.
“Fortunately,” he said, “Lady Wenning has declared informal dining this evening since we shall all retire early in preparation for tomorrow’s ball. So, I may ask for the honor of taking you into dinner.”
A flush rose to her face. “Thank you, but you don’t need to. I am perfectly fine, now.”
“I never feel obliged to do anything,” he said lazily. “I am, as you know, devoted to my own pleasures.”
“I know no such thing,” she retorted.
“Is that an ungracious acceptance?”
She laughed. “No. But this is gracious acceptance. Thank you. Oh, but what if Gough pesters Helena?”
“I think we may rely on Talley. Besides, your father is in the room now. Gough will behave.”
By the time they went into dinner, the incident with Gough had receded to trivial in Josephine’s mind, and she merely let herself enjoy Lord Calton’s company. Calton’s attention. For although neither of them was rude enough to ignore the person on their other side, it was to Josephine that the earl largely devoted himself, which was a heady experience, intoxicating, even. If he flirted—and it was clearly part of his nature to do so—it was with a light touch and well within the bounds of propriety. Mostly, they talked and said nothing that anyone could not hear. And yet, when she rose from the table with the other ladies to follow her hostess to the drawing room, she was conscious chiefly of a pleasant little buzz of happiness within her.
Helena took her arm as they walked. “Lord Calton seems to be paying you particular attention.”
“He is polite.”
“So is Talley.”
Talley had taken Helena into dinner and the pair had sat opposite Josephine and Calton.
“No more than polite?” Josephine asked.
Helena smiled, and Josephine was delighted to see that sparkle back in her eyes. “Well, perhaps a little bit more. I have been…friendlier, and he seems pleased.”
Josephine squeezed her arm.
But it seemed her sister was not the only one to have noticed Calton’s attentions. Aunt Darling flitted across the floor to sit beside her.
“Calton would be a great thing,” she said without preamble, “but don’t let yourself get carried away. He is a shocking flirt and is likely to be gone by the end of the week. Still, he likes you, anyone can see that.”
“And he is not looking to marry,” Josephine said, trying not to blush. “I remember.”
All the same, it was a timely reminder, and one reinforced by Mrs. Reddington only a quarter of an hour later. As Josephine crossed the room toward her sister and Lady Sayle, Mrs. Reddington spoke her name, smiling, and patted the vacant seat beside her on the sofa. Since there was no polite way to refuse, Josephine sat.
“I never had the chance to compliment you on your singing last night,” Mrs. Reddington said pleasantly.
If one was being literal, she still had not done so, but Josephine merely murmured, “Thank you. We were lucky enough to have good teachers, and we both enjoy music.”
“You must go to the opera in London during the Season.”
“I would like to.”
“Then you have been enjoying your time in Town?”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Reddington smiled, though her eyes were like those of a cat playing with its prey. “You will do well. You are pretty and original. And it does no harm to have caught Calton’s eye.”
“As to that, I—”
“Hush child. As long as it is only his eye, he can only do you good. But I daresay your aunt has already warned you against him. Enjoy his attentions while they last, Miss Josephine, for he is a fickle man and has stated often enough that he has no intention of marrying.”
Josephine lifted her chin. “I do not look to marry him.”
Mrs. Reddington paused, as though suspecting the ambiguity in her remark. Something more than surprise flashed in her eyes before the smile came back. “Good. For he has some nasty habits he will never give up.”
“I have no interest in nasty habits and must bow to your greater knowledge. You will excuse me? My sister is beckoning.”
As she went to join Helena, Josephine wanted to fan herself, just to cool her anger. How dare the woman talk to her like that? How dare she traduce Calton like that?
Because she knows him in ways I never will.
The thought was lowering, until another, much more elevating, sprang unexpectedly into her mind. Because she is jealous. She sees me as a threat.
Perhaps he was as aware as she that their closeness over dinner had been noted, for when the gentlemen rejoined them in the drawing room, he did not approach her. Neither did Gough, which had been her major fear. She wondered if Calton had said something to him, and if so, what?
Tea was served but the only entertainment was the odd game of cards, in which Calton joined. Only as Aunt Darling shepherded her nieces from the room in the wake of several others, did he appear to notice her. He glanced up as they walked past his card table and caught her eye. His smile was both spontaneous and melting, and it stayed with her as she went up to bed.
Later, lying in the darkness, she thought seriously about finding her way to the library again. Just in case Calton was there. The very idea ignited her body into memory and new desire. Of course, she could not look for him again, or she would become the woman Gough already believed her to be. And she would die rather than have Calton think she was hunting him.
And yet I am, she thought in a sudden flurry of self-knowledge. Perhaps I will wait just another half hour and then…
*
“He warned me off!” Gough fumed. “How dare he?”
Selina, lying alluringly in bed while Gough paced, sighed and gave into the inevitable. “What exactly did he say?”
“Oh, amiable as you please, he told me he was a friend of the Darlings and the Blackwells and that he would always take any threat, insult, or offense against them very seriously.”
Selina sat up. “Did he, indeed?” she said slowly. Did she need to be worried by this flirtation after all? She was already concerned enough to have warned the girl off, though that had hardly gone down quite as expected. Insolent chit. “Was he threatening to call you out? Just because you spoke to her on the staircase?”
“She is a flighty little thing. I might have upset her.”
“You were clumsy,” Selina guessed. Really, decent allies were hard to find these days. Whether or not she got Calton back—and no lover had ever made her feel as good—she wasn’t sure she could bear much more of Cyril Gough. Mind you, she had underestimated the girl herself and handled her badly. So, there was only one way to take her out of Selina’s way. “Ignore her. Go to the father. Offer marriage, now. When it comes to arranging settlements is time enough to state your financial requirements. Secure the engagement quickly.”
“And if either of them refuses?”
“Why would they? The girl is enceinte, and she needs a husband immediately. Calton won’t marry her.” At least she hoped to God he wouldn’t. Marriage to another wouldn’t necessarily keep him from other women’s beds, but she could not bear that girl to have what Selina herself could not.
Gough sat on the bed, tugging off his cravat in a thoughtful kind of way. He began to smile. “Damn me, you’re right,” he said, springing to his feet. He all but tore off his breeches and fell upon her in sudden and ungentle passion. She was happy enough to let him have his way, provided he did as she bade him, though she did miss the finesse of a considerate lover. Like Calton, who could give as well as take. And who never muttered another woman’s name as he reached for his pleasure in her body.
*
Josephine did not know whether to be glad or relieved when she woke up the next morning. Clearly, she had fallen asleep before she could commit the folly of scouring the house at night in search of Lord Calton.
The thought made her giggle, for no matter how shocking her new desires and behavior, a deep, warm happiness was glowing within her that had all to do with him. And they were under the same roof.
These pleasurable feelings lasted through breakfast and a lively walk with Helena, Talley, Calton, and the Sayles. Although she had no time alone with Calton, just being in his company along with friends was another new delight. By the time they returned to the house, where all was in preparation for the evening’s ball, more guests had arrived who would stay overnight. Making her way through mountains of baggage, footmen, maids, and valets, Josephine’s attention was caught by her father, beckoning her from one of the ground floor reception rooms.
She changed direction to meet him and preceded him into the room. He followed and closed the door, giving them sudden, blessed quiet.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, somewhat surprised since she could count on one hand the number of times her father had summoned her for a private meeting. If he had something to impart, he generally did so during dinner or some other routine encounter.
“Oh, no.” His frown smoothed and he smiled faintly. “Quite the contrary, in fact. At least, I believe so. I have just received an offer for your hand in marriage.”
Her heart seemed to jump into her throat. “You have?” she managed.
He peered at her. A man used to reading the expressions and tones of his fellow diplomats, of sovereigns, and high-ranking government officials, was not so confident with his own family. “You are not as surprised as I.”
Her heart seemed to be back in its proper place though it beat a quick, hard tattoo against her ribs. She felt as if she were about to explode with anticipation, with impossible happiness. “I am waiting to hear who made this offer and what was your reply.”
“Mr. Gough,” Papa said, still watching her. “Viscount Denzil’s heir, you know.”
Gough? She stared at her father aghast. “So, he told me at our first meeting. What did you answer?”
“That you were of age to make your own decision, but that I would speak to you and let him know your decision. Do you want to speak to him before you make up your mind?”
“No!”
Papa blinked. “Is this girlish nerves? Or do you not favor his suit?”
“The latter. It never entered my head he meant marriage.”
“I fail to see what else he could mean to the gently bred daughter of a gentleman.”
Josephine veered away from that discussion. She did not wish to be whisked home out of Calton’s orbit just yet. “Well, I hope you are not set on it, Papa, for I definitely do not wish to marry Mr. Gough.”
“Then I shall tell him your decision, and there is an end of the matter.” His gaze lingered, though and he did not dismiss her. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”
“Such as what?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t believe so. Helena and I are both looking forward to the ball.”
“I’m glad to hear it. She has been looking somewhat pale recently, so it’s good to see her enjoying herself again.”
Josephine almost spilled out her hopes of Talley, but the secrets surrounding her sister’s relationship with the Frenchman were too close, and not Josephine’s to tell. So, she merely agreed cordially, “It is, isn’t it?” And was relieved when her father nodded dismissal.
*
“A word with you, Gough?”
The words, addressed to him by Mr. Blackwell, just as the guests were gathering for tea, made him smile. He even threw a wink at Selina beside him before he turned and followed Blackwell into Wenning’s library, which was deserted.
“Sir?” Gough said, trying not to smirk as he closed the door and turned to face his future father-in-law.
“I wanted to tell you with all speed and in private that I have spoken to my daughter. Sadly, while she and I are both grateful for the honor you show her, she does not favor your suit.”
Gough felt his jaw drop. “Does not…”
“Exactly.”
Gough drew himself up to his full height, which might have been an inch taller than the older man, though somehow, he did not feel it. “And am I not owed an interview with the lady herself? Is she not possessed of respect enough to answer my honorable proposal in person?”
