Loving the Wrong Lord

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  She emerged from the shadows, and Phin swore he had never seen any woman look as lovely as she did just then. Her pale green silk gown made her look even more like a fairy than she normally did, and her mahogany hair had been twisted up into an elaborate coiffure. Pearl-studded combs added to her fanciful look. Or perhaps she was meant to look elegant, which she did. However, to Phin, she simply looked like a fairy sprite. All she was missing was a pair of wings.

  “I was sneaking out of the festivities,” she confessed as she moved into the pool of light from the single wall sconce near the door to the parlor.

  “I noticed.” Phin crossed his arms over his chest.

  She shrugged. “Tabby needed to speak with someone, and there are fortune hunters about. I had no wish to entertain offers of dances or turns about the room from them.”

  Phin considered that for a long moment. “So, you left.”

  “It seemed prudent.” Josie paused, seemingly searching for the right words. “Less possibility of creating gossip. Or scandal.”

  He gestured towards the room where he could now hear raised voices shouting at each other. Lord, he hoped the two of them worked this out of their system soon. “You mean as they did?”

  Josie winced. “That was…rather dramatic.”

  “It was,” Phin agreed. “Yet, I have been reminded this evening that while scandal happens, memories are often quite short.”

  “Someone told me much the same.”

  He wondered if that had been Lady Tabitha. Like Josie, she was wise beyond her years. However, having grown up in London, she was able to play the social game far better. The life of a debutante was all that Lady Tabby had ever known. That wasn’t true of Josie.

  “What we did today was a scandal.” Phin reached for Josie, and she came willingly into his arms. “Or it would be if people knew.” He decided not to mention that Eli Queensbury had already guessed the truth and that if he knew, then others, including the Duke of Radcliffe, probably did as well. “Does that matter to you?”

  “It should,” Josie said slowly, lacing her fingers through Phin’s, “but in truth? I find that it doesn’t. At least not as much as I had imagined.” She sighed. “I have lived my life in the shadow of my sister’s madness and my father’s obsessions. Back in Cumbria? My only goal in life was to not cause a scandal or become the subject of gossip.”

  Phin smiled as Josie worried her lower lip once more. She looked utterly adorable when she did so. “And yet, here you are.”

  “Here I am,” she agreed. “Though as Tabby pointed out earlier, my father’s plot was hardly the worst scandal London has seen this season, and perhaps people will forget. Sooner rather than later.”

  “I know they will.” A little voice inside Phin’s head whispered that he shouldn’t be doing this. That becoming involved with Josie with an eye toward marriage might end in disaster. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a simple, loveless marriage that would not end as dramatically as his last one had.

  On the other hand, wasn’t it a bit too late for that? Hadn’t he already taken the first step on the path to making Josie his wife by bedding her, and worse? Releasing his seed inside of her!

  “Society loves to gossip, Josie, but as I’ve come to remember, the peerage does a great many stupid and foolish things. So, what is the on-dit of today becomes the forgotten footnote of tomorrow.” Slowly, he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers. “I desire you, Josie. You desire me. Gossip follows nearly all couples in our society. It is the way of things.”

  “What are you saying, Phin?” Her voice was breathy, and he longed to simply take her mouth in a passionate kiss as he had back at the cottage.

  “I am asking that I be allowed to court you, Josie. With an eye toward marriage, though as of this moment, I make no promises. No more merely exploring. I believe the time for that has passed. Long passed if this afternoon was any indication.” He kissed her, and she sighed into his mouth.

  To his delight, Josie kissed him back just as passionately.

  “But I am not the sort of woman you wished to marry,” she gasped when they broke apart for a moment. “I care for you too much. You wanted a simple marriage.”

  Phin smiled down at her then, and it was the wolfish smile he had been known for in his youth. “I changed my mind.”

  Then, Phin scooped Josie into his arms and carried her off to his study where he proceeded to show her for the better part of the next hour exactly how very much his mind had changed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Town Tattler

  (Far, Far Too Early Morning Edition)

  Now, this is more like it, dear readers! I am told that Miss Grace Hadley (she of the Dunwell Grange area) and the Earl of Warwick came to blows last evening at Lord Fullbridge’s house party! Other than growing up in close proximity to each other and being possibly distantly related, I had, at first, no idea how a Grey Lady and an earl even know each other! However, I am now informed that their connection to each other goes quite deep – likely back to childhood – and that the two of them had been seen in each other’s company earlier in the house party.

  Have the two of them kissed and made up? Is there a new scandal brewing? I honestly cannot say. I am told that Lord Fullbridge sorted out the matter with both parties in private and that at some time later in the night, Lord Warwick returned to the evening’s festivities while Miss Hadley retired to her chambers. That, certainly, is no fun, but then life is not always fun. Or a scandal. Much to my annoyance.

  In other news from the house party, I am hearing rumors that Lord Fullbridge has finally settled on a woman to be his new duchess. Is it Lady Margaretta? Doubtful, for their temperaments do not suit. Lady Tabitha? I think she is far too wise for such a thing. Which leaves Lady Josephine as the last leading candidate. Did I not tell you that she was a distinct possibility for his future bride, dear readers, even though a hint of scandal still follows them? Why, yes. I believe that I did.

  -Lady A

  “Lady Margaretta appears in high dudgeon this morning.” Tabby watched the other woman stomp about the breakfast room at Havenhurst, and glaring at nearly everyone. “Then again, when one is considered out of the running for the position of Lord Fullbridge’s bride and new duchess, I suppose that is a natural response.”

  “Especially when she felt as if she was owed the position of his bride,” Grier snickered from behind a forkful of eggs. “As if the title is more important than the man.” She punctuated her comments with a scowl. “That should never be the case, I can assure you.”

  Over the last few days, Josie had come to know the Scottish-born-and-bred young lady fairly well and considered her a friend. Therefore, she didn’t take the woman’s fierce expression as a slight against her or anyone else at the party, really, other than Lady Margaretta.

  At present, Lady Grier was still quite angry over all of the young ladies who had chased after her brother, the Marquess of Hallstone, when he first came into his title. Though the man had finally found a true love with his wife, Diana, he’d endured quite a lot to attain that happiness.

  At the sideboard, Lady Margaretta was apparently being told by Phin’s staff that there were more coddled eggs coming, though none were available at present. She looked ready to start throwing china at any moment. Lud, but she was a terror and likely to cause more problems before the house party ended, unfortunately.

  “Ladies! How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?” Phin’s sister was grinning from ear to ear this morning, much to Josie’s surprise.

  At present, Lady Cilla was flitting about the breakfast room like a butterfly – both to make certain her guests were well tended to and also probably to make certain her china remained intact.

  “I believe we all slept very well, my lady.” Tabby inclined her head. As the daughter of a duke, she enjoyed a slightly higher social status than either Josie or Grier. “The country air does wonders for one’s constitution, does it not? You are looking particularly well
this morning, so I assume it agrees with you as well.”

  Given that they were not so very far outside of London and that some of the city’s notorious smoke still wafted over the countryside from time to time, such compliments were a bit over the top. However, Tabby was a master at knowing just what to say, how to say it, and when to say it.

  It was a skill Josie would never have. Likely Lady Grier would not either, at least not if the woman’s ferocious looks and occasional growls were any indication.

  Tabby, however, wielded that power as if she had been born to it, and in fact, she had.

  “You are too kind, Lady Tabby.” Cilla was glowing now, and Josie had to wonder if Lord Snowly was at least partially responsible for their hostess’ happiness.

  Presently, the man in question was lurking in the far corner of the breakfast room, his eyes fastened on Cilla – but in a good way, Josie supposed. At the very least, it was different from the times before when he looked as if he wished to plant someone a facer. Now? He might actually be smiling. With the earl? It was sometimes difficult to tell.

  “Are any of you going to watch the boat races out at the lake this morning?” Cilla asked as Lady Margaretta stomped by once more, casting furious glances at Josie as she did so. “Oh, don’t mind her. She is in a snit because we are out of coddled eggs at the moment and because it’s clear that my brother has no interest in becoming her whipping boy, thank all that is good and decent.”

  Such a statement from another woman might be shocking, but from Lady Priscilla Trew? It was par for the course. Which might just be why Lord Snowly liked her so much for he was a bit of an odd sort as well.

  When the three other women just stared at Phin’s sister, mouths slightly agape, Cilla snorted. “It is hardly a secret that the shrew was angling to become his bride and spend his fortune as fast as she could while siphoning off a great deal to her frightfully funds-depleted family members. Leeches, the lot of them.”

  “I had no idea things were that bad,” Tabby demurred, but Josie could see her friend was filing that information away for later.

  “It is that bad,” Cilla replied, “but thankfully, we won’t have to worry about counting the silver from the moment the witch moves in. For she is not moving into any Trew household because my brother has finally come to his senses and seen what has been in front of his face since Lady Chillton’s affair.” She smiled sweetly. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me? I must make certain the preparations for the boat races are finished. And see about more eggs before Lady Margaretta begins throwing the good china.”

  “She is…refreshing,” Grier offered, though she still scowled a little. “I like her. Quite a bit.”

  “As do I,” Tabby replied. “Josie? She is likely to be your sister-in-law, after all. What do you think?”

  “I think I am mortified.” Josie knew she had to be blushing five shades of red as she choked on a bite of bacon. “Phin and I only came to the agreement to court last evening. We did not discuss marriage, though I would imagine that is the hoped-for end-result for both of us. How did word get out so quickly?”

  Tabby smiled. “The walls have ears, and Society has a taste for gossip.” She grasped Josie’s hand. “But gossip will pass, Josie. The moment Miss Hadley and Lord Warwick engage in more open warfare, and she either kills him or kisses him in front of everyone? Your courtship with the duke will be a mere footnote. As I said, that is the way our world works.”

  Two hours later, as Josie sat with her friends in plush chairs that had had been hauled out from the manor house to the edge of the lake, she was still mulling over Tabby’s words – and surprisingly found herself agreeing with them even more than she had last night.

  Gossip would happen no matter what she did or whom she wed. So why should she deny herself a lifetime with Phin because of it? Marrying him, if indeed she did, might be slightly scandalous, but it was hardly a true scandal. Not like some of the other events that Tabby had mentioned.

  Did she love Phin? Josie wasn’t certain. She liked him a great deal, cared for him quite deeply, and the idea of not seeing him again after this house party did not sit particularly well with her. Worse, the idea of him marrying another woman all but made her physically ill. That might not be love, but it was something more than mere like, and Josie found she wished to hold on to that “something” rather than allow it to slip away.

  Last night in Phin’s study, he hadn’t taken her body as he had at the love nest, but she had still come apart in his arms. He had whispered that he wished to be able to do this always. That was physical pleasure. It wasn’t love, and Josie would not confuse the two.

  Did it matter that he didn’t love her? Did it matter that she did not love him?

  Josie had no idea, but she did want to find out.

  After this house party ended, there would still be a few weeks left in the Season. She and Phin would both return to London. They could court openly at that point and see where things went. It was all very logical. And cold, Josie admitted to herself, and not at all like them. After all, things between her and Phin weren’t cold. At least not when it came to the physical. That was all that mattered, wasn’t it?

  “When Lady Priscilla mentioned a rowing competition, I assumed the lake would be larger.” Next to Josie, Grier frowned as she studied the lake. “Back in Scotland, the lochs are far larger than this.”

  “It’s man-made,” Tabby confided in a whisper. “Or most of it is. It was a pond that Lord Fullbridge’s great-grandfather had expanded into a small lake so he could fish. Then, his father expanded it again to its present size so that he could practice his rowing for events like the Fairhaven Cup, which is hosted by the Duke of Enwright each summer.”

  Again, how Tabby knew so much about so many things confused Josie. She was coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t only because many people overlooked the other woman. After all, Tabby was hardly a wallflower. No, this was something more, but she did not press further. Tabby had been a wonderful friend during this house party, and she deserved her privacy on such matters.

  Once more, Grier frowned, obviously having trouble with the idea that not everything the world over was as large as it was in Scotland. “If you say so. A man can hardly work up a good sweat rowing across that.”

  “They’re getting ready to start,” Josie offered, not certain she wished to hear more about Scottish lakes. While she liked Grier, the woman was sometimes a bit of a mystery as she was half-Scottish, half-English, and wholly confused about which part of her heritage she should follow.

  “Don’t want to miss a moment of Phin Trew doing manly things, do you?” Tabby teased.

  “Perhaps.” Josie stuck her nose in the air, but it was clearly all in good fun. “Now, hush. The race is about to start.

  At the far end of the lake, Phin, along with Lord Queensbury, Lord Sutton, Lord Acton, Lord Harlow, and a few other men Josie had yet to meet, sat in short, squat rowboats. They were practice boats, Phin had confided to Josie that morning when they had gone for a nearly pre-dawn ride across Havenhurst’s lush grounds. His father had commissioned the small boars, one each for him and his friends so that they could practice in private for the Fairhaven Cup.

  Boat races were common back in Cumbria, so this wasn’t new to Josie, though usually there were only two men racing each other at one time, especially in a lake this small. At least that had been her experience.

  From where Josie sat, the lake seemed rather crowded. Almost too crowded. Phin had mentioned that there were to be only four racers, but somehow, four had turned into ten and now? Well, now she wasn’t certain how all of those boats would get across the lake at one time. It wasn’t that wide.

  “Do you think this looks safe?” That came from Grier. “Back home, only the largest lochs held that many racers at one time.”

  Before anyone could answer her, however, someone on the far side of the lake near the summer house fired a small pistol, and the racers were off.

  Around he
r, Josie could see that the assembled crowd was watching intently. Such manly displays were common at house parties held later in the summer, but as it was still spring, they were rare at the moment. For the most part, the lake waters were far too chilly and a bit dangerous. Still, this was Havenhurst, and if Phin hadn’t thought it safe to race that many boats? He wouldn’t have.

  As the boats glided across the lake, a few of the more vocal young ladies threw caution and decorum to the wind and shouted out the name of the particular lord they were rooting for and some of the men who weren’t racing were placing bets as to which man would cross the finish line first. At present, good money was either on Phin or Lord Sutton to be victorious.

  Unable to stop herself, Josie moved to the edge of her seat, watching the race intently. Some boats were starting to fall behind now, as the racers reach the half-way point of the lake. That was good for it meant that the lake wasn’t quite as crowded as it had been before and lessened the chance of an accident.

  As predicted, Phin was in the lead, and Lord Sutton was a close second. Surprisingly, Lord Harlow was neck and neck with Lord Queensbury for third place. Harlow was an older man, while Queensbury was decidedly younger, and Josie had assumed the age difference would give the younger man the advantage.

  At the far edge of the lake, Lord Warwick held one end of a rope while Lord Haffley held the other. They would both release their ends when the first rower’s back touched the edge of the rope, as they were both in a perfect position to see who the winner was. This rope was thicker than the ones used back home, and again, something in Josie’s stomach clenched tightly. Though as long as the two lords were careful, it shouldn’t matter. At least she hoped it would not.

  Josie’s stomach clenched again, however, when she noticed that Lord Harlow was drawing too close to Lord Sutton’s boat. Although Harlow was lagging farther behind now, he was also drifting closer to the other man’s craft. Any closer and they would collide. How could the man not see that? Was he not paying attention, or was he simply a fool?