by Wilde, Tanya
A low chuckle flowed from between her lips. Wes had a point. If what he said held any truth, St. Aldwyn would have charged to Jo’s side by now if he thought she had designs on Craven. Good, it would be better for him not to suspect anything lest they wanted a hornet on their tail.
However, Belle wasn’t worried. None of the men desired to end up in the parson’s trap, which left her friend to find her adventure. Jo’s dedicated pursuit to save the world left her somewhat solemn at times.
Damien, the fifth Marquis of St. Aldwyn, scowled in the direction of Lady Josephine for no apparent reason other than the fact that he was acutely aware of her presence.
That irritated him.
He would much rather be enjoying some widow’s charms than pining after Lady Josephine. Not that he ever pined. Pining would suggest he was a love-sick fool. Ghastly business that. No, perhaps the better term to describe his condition was a conundrum. Because Lady Josephine was exactly that: a conundrum—and he, well, was intrigued.
At first Damien hadn’t given a damn about Lady Josephine and what she did on her own time. But after learning of her supposed projects—helping abused women escape the hands of their abusers—and then discovering that the “kidnapping” of Lady Madeleine had not been the first disappearance of an elite society member, curiosity had overcome detachment. If Lady Josephine’s little band of vigilantes were only “kidnapping” people who were being hurt, Damien possessed half a mind to join them, but on further inspection of the disappearances, inconsistencies had become apparent. For one thing, not all the disappearances were aristocrats, and neither were all of them women. After digging a little deeper it also became apparent that some of the disappearances had nothing to do with abuse, which had turned his curiosity into downright suspicion.
“Still spying on Lady Josephine?” Grey drawled, coming up beside him.
“Still dragging your wife off to dark corners?” Damien shot back.
“Naturally.”
“Your infatuation with your wife is disgusting.”
“If I have disgusted you then I am doing something right.”
Damien shot Grey a glare. Grey excelled at insulting him, but Damien put up with it. Only because their friendship had been one hellish road.
“What possessed Warton to allow his sister out of the house dressed like that?” Damien suddenly asked, scowling at the lady in question.
“I imagine he did not know.”
“Then saints preserve us. What possessed her to wear that?”
Grey shrugged. “I believe Lady Josephine and Lady Belle are both shopping at the same dressmaker as my wife.”
“Bloody hell, she should be banned.”
Grey glanced in the direction of his wife, his gaze filling with heat. “I, on the other hand, am pleased for the woman’s creations, whoever she is.”
“Madam De La Frey.”
“I beg your pardon?” Grey asked distracted.
“The woman making the infamous dresses is Madam De La Frey.”
Grey shook his head. “Can’t say that I’ve met her.”
“Neither can I. The lady is as elusive as the night itself. It’s rumored she wears a mask when she meets her clients to keep her identity a secret.”
Grey appeared as intrigued as Damien sounded. “That would mean she could be anyone, even someone we know.”
Or have bedded, Damien mused. His gaze traveled over the women in the drawing room. “She could be here, right now and we would be none the wiser.”
“So long as she doesn’t stop creating her designs, I can’t say I give a damn.”
Damien rubbed his chin in consideration. He loved a good puzzle. But first, he had to piece together the puzzle that was Lady Josephine.
“I can’t believe you invited that bastard,” Damien said, nodding in the direction of James Shaw.
Grey shrugged. “I didn’t.”
That earned his host a frown. “You let your wife invite him after she ran off with him?”
“Apparently there is no getting rid of him and for some reason my wife is fond of him,” Grey answered, a sudden edge entering his voice. “As long as he keeps his hands to himself, I will tolerate the man. Besides, I would much rather she invite him where I can keep an eye on him than run off behind my back.”
Damien understood, though he doubted he would have been able to tolerate the man’s presence if his wife had run off with him. Such restraint did not present itself in his nature.
“Are you not of the view that your obsession with the ladies might have gone far enough?”
The question caught Damien off guard and he raised his brow. “Saints man, I have no notion of what you speak. Spit it out or leave me in peace.”
“Have you not taken this,” Grey motioned with a hand in the hair, “this shadowing of Lady Belle and Lady Josephine, of following them on errands, hiding behind pillars and potted plants, too far?”
Damien blanched at Grey’s assessment. Surely they did not appear that unbecoming?
“It’s not that indecent,” Damien growled, scowling at his friend.
“No? So you didn’t bribe Lady Josephine’s maid into sending you updates on her daily activities?”
“How the hell do you know that?” Damien snapped.
“Westfield mentioned it. He also said the pillars and plants were your idea.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“He’s hiding behind a pillar right now,” Grey pointed out, nodding at his brother-in-law across the room.
“It’s not my fault the Tremaine siblings are as mad as a March hare.”
“May I remind you I married one of those siblings?”
Damien nodded. “Crazy as the lot of them, I say.”
“It needs to stop, my wife has become uncomfortable,” Grey snapped.
“So go lecture Westfield about it.”
“I’m about to. I’m discussing it with you first.”
Damien lips curled in annoyance before he turned to Grey, his expression blank as understanding dawned.
“If you have something to say, spit it out.”
“Back off from the ladies.”
A slow humorless smile lined Damien’s mouth. “Switched sides, have you?”
“There are no sides.”
“Wrong.”
They glared at each other with glacial eyes, uncaring of the attention they attracted when the tension and sudden animosity between them became apparent. Both big men, neither of them had any issue with starting a brawl. They both knew Grey’s wife had been behind the request. Too bad Damien never bowed down to threats.
As if summoned by their thoughts, Evelyn appeared by her husband’s side, a scowl in place. “Whatever is going on between the two of you, stop it this instant.”
Grey’s eyes never left Damien’s, but his tone held a gentle note when he replied, “Nothing is wrong, sweetheart. St. Aldwyn and I were just discussing distasteful habits.”
“You discussed, but the orchestra drowned out your voice.”
Grey took a threating step forward but stopped when his wife hissed, “Do not dare make scene! Both of you. This is my night and I will not have the two of you ruin it with a brawl.”
Grey visibly tensed at the anger in his wife’s tone while Damien’s lips stretched wide. So infatuated with his wife, Grey would never dare do anything that may cause her unhappiness.
Not one to miss an opportunity Damien slipped away while Grey placated his wife. He searched the crowd for Westfield and a foul curse escaped his lips, landing on a group of young ladies’ ears, whose mouths dropped open in response. Damn. Even from a distance it was clear his friend lurked behind a pillar a few feet away from Lady Belle.
Damien cringed at the sight. Damnation. He would have to speak with Westfield about his inclination toward pillars and pots. If they did not stop they would present all the hallmarks of two besotted idiots. Ridiculous. Grown men did not spy on ladies, nor did they hide behind pillars and plants. They came, t
hey saw and they seized whatever they bloody well wanted. That had always been the way of their species. It was time to put an end to this madness.
Chapter 3
Almost every morning since Josephine had been a little girl, when her eyes greeted a new day, a wave of exuberance accompanied the light. There were, however, exceptions. Some days she awoke with determination, especially if a strenuous task lay before her that day. Other times boredom greeted her, as when dreary weather marked the dawn. More often than not though, Josephine woke with a sense of excitement, and today was no different. She had awoken recalling events from the previous evening.
Her mind still reeled from her boldness and the fact that she’d went ahead with Belle’s mad plan to intrigue Craven. Granted, it had been lots of fun. Still drowsy, she stretched out her legs and curved her lips upward in a smile. Excitement still curled in her belly when her maid, Sarah entered the room.
“What time is it?” Jo asked, sensing it was still too early.
“Six o’clock, my lady.”
“Stars, Sarah, what madness is this?”
“His lordship has requested your presence, my lady.”
Jo groaned. What now? “Tell him I will be down momentarily, Sarah.”
Brahm had always been an early riser, sometimes even forcing Jo to rise early as well. In particular, he did so when he had something on his mind, as it appeared he did now. Had he noticed her interest in Craven after all? No, her bedroom door did not hang on its hinges, which she considered a good sign, as his volatile nature would have demanded a blow-up the moment he became aware. Subtlety never had been her brother’s style.
She took her time to dress in a simple yellow frock and headed downstairs.
He sat alone in the breakfast room when she entered, and Jo noted his clenched jaw straight away. Hesitation slowed her down as his flashing eyes locked with hers. Something was amiss, and it had to have happened in the last hour.
“Hungry?” he asked, motioning for her to take a seat and barely restraining a growl.
Jo glanced at the table and the lack of breakfast.
“Not really,” she hedged, but continued into the room when his gaze turned even darker. “It’s early yet,” she murmured, taking a seat across from him.
“You are probably curious why I requested your presence at this ungodly hour.”
“A tad, yes.”
A humorless laugh rumbled from his chest. “For an explanation, Josephine.”
Jo gave her brother a confused stare. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Brahm’s brow furrowed. “Yesterday evening, the Middleton sisters accosted me.” His shoulders shuddered before he continued, “I could not fathom why. I tolerated their incessant chatter when I recalled they are the cousins of your friend, Lady Belle. But all that aside, imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to the noise of giggling women who’d invaded my house!”
Jo blinked.
“At first I thought it must be a dream, but again, imagine my surprise to find all three of them in the breakfast room. Eating my food, which they obviously found in the pantry, as though my house belonged to them, at this hour no less,” he all but bellowed. “Then all three of them started batting their eyelashes at me. I’ve never been so scared in all my life.”
Shocked, Jo struggled to contain her laughter as her brother continued, his brow waggling in true horror. “Then it struck me, is this not my sister’s class of bandwagon trouble? If this is a ploy to distract me so you can bat your lashes at St. Aldwyn, it stops right now.”
Jo’s mouth dropped open. Had her brother lost his marbles? She carried no interest in St. Aldwyn. Granted, she found him more attractive than she ought to, but she was also guilty of thinking him nothing more than a shallow aristocrat. Like most rakes, he’d been spoiled by luxury and the continued attention of throngs of women.
In fact, the only reason she’d always tolerated his presence was because when he believed himself unobserved, his dark eyes turned broody and seemed to harbor a deep sadness. In those times when she glimpsed the true man behind the façade, she found herself being drawn into a maze of fascination. Knowledgeable of his past with Grey, aware he had done horrid things, her instincts flared to life at the sight of a wounded soul. She found she wanted to ease the bleak look from his eyes.
By all appearances it seemed he’d put his past behind him, but Jo gathered that guilt haunted him still. Yes, something shimmered in his eyes, something that made her insides flutter in the most unsettling way. Something she wasn’t quite certain she liked.
“I have no interest in St. Aldwyn, other than remaining as far away from him as I possibly can,” Jo replied with the truth.
Her brother seemed skeptical, however. “Why then, have you put those she-wolves on my track?”
Jo suppressed a smile. “I would never do such a cruel thing. The Middletons have always done as they please. And as I’m a friend of their cousin, I am considered a friend to them. Only you never noticed before because it is only now that they are actively searching for husbands.” A lie of course, though one may never be certain with those girls.
A noise, which sounded much like a wounded bear rumbled in her brother’s chest. “Bloody hell, we need to leave London post-haste.”
Jo scoffed. “I never thought I would see the day where my own brother could not manage a few marriage-minded misses.”
He shot her a glare. “This is no joking matter.”
“Of course it is. Did it never occur to you that you are a titled, bachelor, albeit an old one, and unmarried ladies would set you in their sights?”
He only grunted.
“Furthermore, have you not considered it’s about time you marry and start a family? Produce an heir, continue the family bloodline?”
Her brother surged to his feet, his face purple with anger. “You would lecture me on marriage? You are so firmly set on the shelf that not even I could manage to procure you a suitable husband, and not to say that the only prospect you have is a rake with no interest in matrimony!”
Jo gasped. “I am unmarried by choice, you big oaf.”
“So am I,” Brahm shot back.
“I, on the other hand, do not need an heir to carry on the family line, dear brother. You’ve a duty to your ancestry and to your title, which you so conveniently like to forget.”
“My duty? What about yours? You should have been married by now and given some lord an heir, not be running around London saving all the crippled old souls you manage to find!”
“How dare you, Brahm. I help people, which is more than I can say about you. All you do is growl and scowl at everyone who dares to cross your path. At least I have a purpose.”
“I have a purpose, Josephine. My purpose is to remain unwed for as long as you do.”
“You cannot be serious!” Jo gasped, shocked that her brother would take such a stand.
“I’m perfectly in earnest, my dear. If you will not marry, then I won’t either. So I suggest you go and get rid of the Middletons in my drawing room before I throw them out.”
“They are still here?” Jo asked, her eyes wide.
“I couldn’t bloody well toss them out now, could I?” he snapped.
But Jo had already shot from her chair and marched out of the room without a word, so furious with her brother she wanted to scream. As fast as her legs could carry her without bursting into a run she hurried to the drawing room where Poppy, Holly and Willow awaited her—with any luck not in tears. Brahm could be beyond rude when needled.
When Jo entered the drawing room, the girls stood together in a whispering debate, all three of them motioning wild gestures with their hands. Together they were a sight to behold, their energy noticeable even from afar.
Pretty in their own pixie-like way, they would not encounter much trouble finding husbands, provided they kept their mouths shut. And while they may look alike with their blonde hair and impish features, they each had different eye color.
&
nbsp; Poppy’s eyes boasted a deep shade of blue while Willow possessed eyes that reminded Josephine of green crystals. As for Holly, she had golden eyes, tiger like, which heightened the angles of her face. All in all, their eyes comprised their most distinguishable features. Yet still, most would just refer to them as the Middleton sisters, uncaring which was which.
“Jo!” Poppy exclaimed with merriment as she rushed toward her, enveloping Jo in her arms. “We’ve been waiting for you forever.”
“Surely not forever, as it’s only past six,” Jo replied with only a hint of sarcasm. Miraculous for her.
“It felt like forever,” Holly chirped.
Willow nodded. “What is with your bear of a brother growling at us?”
“You ate all his honey,” Jo murmured, amusement entering her face.
Poppy let out a loud snort.
“We only helped ourselves to some food,” Willow grumbled.
Holly bobbed her head up and down. The movement almost made Jo dizzy.
“We were famished and in a hurry to get here, it seemed pointless to stop and eat first, but then when we arrived, you weren’t awake yet.”
“Yes well, Londoners mostly keep town hours,” Jo pointed out.
“That’s just silly. You miss the best time of the day sleeping.”
Normally Jo wouldn’t agree, but then decided it was futile to argue with them. Being woken up by lively folk at six did not count for missing the best part of the day.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“It’s all part of our plan to aggravate your brother,” Poppy answered.
Holly bobbed her head. “Cousin Belle informed us you require assistance and of course we are happy to help,” she whispered in an excited voice.
“What exactly did Belle say?” Jo asked on her guard, refraining from pointing out they’d already started to assist her the previous evening.
“Oh, not much,” Willow said with bright spirits. “We are to give you a fair chance to win a wager by distracting certain parties who had developed stalking tendencies, as well as your brother.”
So everything then.