by Rose Pearson
It burned away his thoughts of marrying her, realizing that he could not do so now. Not when it was so clear that she felt very little for him, and he felt nothing for her. Gideon knew it had been the express wish of his father that he marry Georgina, but in this, he would have to fail in his duty. He could not wed someone so cold, so uncaring. To be bound to her for life would be nothing more than torturous. Even the thought of bringing children into such a union sent a cold shiver down his spine, for he did not think that Georgina would be a caring mother.
Josephine, however.....
His eyes shot open. Josephine? Was he truly considering having Josephine as his wife, when she was nothing more than a woman taken from the London streets?
Why should that matter?
The quiet voice niggled at him, forcing him to question everything he knew, everything he had once believed about marriage and suitability. Josephine did not come from a noble background or good family, and certainly did not have any sort of dowry to come with her – but she was good and kind, caring and loving, strong and determined. She gave of herself until there was almost nothing left, working hard and striving continuously for others. Did it matter who her family had been? Did it matter to his heart whether or not she was gentry?
Gideon closed his eyes again, a long breath escaping him. No, it ought not to matter. It ought not to send him into such a dizzying conflict to admit that he found his heart considering the lady more and more each day and yet the struggle still remained.
Josephine was not of his class, not of his ilk, and that expectation still weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was a baron, with responsibilities of all sorts, and Josephine would not know or understand what such a life was like. That being said, she did speak wonderfully well, thanks to the housekeeper who had taken such an interest in her. He could not fault her in that but still, there were so many other things that she would need to learn.
“But could you not teach her?” he muttered aloud, as if trying to convince himself. “Could you not show her, just as she has shown you so many things?”
His lips slowly began to curve into a smile, his body relaxing slowly against the stable wall. Yes, he could teach her what a life here was like. Yes, he could show her the responsibilities expected of a baron, just as she had taught him now to cook a simple meal, or how to mix up the medicine required for his mother and sister. She had taught him so much already and he had taken her tuition eagerly. Mayhap it was time for her to learn something new also.
“Class be damned,” he said aloud, pushing himself up from the stable wall. He would not allow his accident of birth to set them both apart. One could not choose where one was born. He was a baron, and she the daughter of a laborer, with no-one else left in the world, and yet Gideon knew he could not be parted from her. He could not let her disappear into the ether never to be a part of his life again. Such a thought brought him a searing pain in his heart, a pain he did not ever want to truly experience. Josephine was in his heart now and he did not think that she would ever truly leave it.
“Here you are, my lord.”
Gideon made to stand away from the wall, only for a rush of heat to pour over him, forcing him to stagger back, one hand over his eyes. The stable hand grasped his arm, supporting him for a moment until the heat dissipated from Gideon’s bones.
“I am quite all right,” Gideon muttered, not quite sure what had just occurred. “I think it must be the exhaustion of the last few days creeping up on me.”
The stable hand nodded, looking a little concerned. “If you are quite sure, my lord.”
“Quite,” Gideon replied, feeling much more like himself again. “Thank you.” He mounted Hunter easily, strength returning to him. “I’ll be an hour or so, I should think.”
The stable hand nodded and Gideon pushed Hunter into a fast trot, letting the cool air brush over his face as he rode. His breath caught as he saw Josephine wander along one of the many paths that led through the estate gardens, seeing her idly letting her hand trail through some long grasses. Even if he had tried, Gideon knew he could not keep away from her.
“Josephine!”
Turning at once, her eyes registered surprise for a moment before a welcoming smile tugged at her lips. Gideon found himself smiling back, his heart quickening just a little.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Josephine smiled, as he jumped down from his horse to stand beside her. “A fine afternoon for a ride, it seems!”
He chuckled. “Indeed. I confess I have missed riding these last weeks.” Tipping his head, he looked at her for a moment. “Do you enjoy such things?”
She laughed, although her cheeks darkened with color. “My lord, you forget. I am nothing more than a lowly maid and the daughter of a laborer. I confess that riding a horse is not something I have often been used to.”
An idea caught at his mind. “Then should you like me to show you?”
Her eyes widened for a moment. “My lord, I do not think...”
“Come here,” he chuckled, grasping her lightly around the waist and leading her towards Hunter, who was happily munching the lush green grass of his lawn which, of late, had not been as well maintained. His body grew warm with the closeness of her, seeing her flushed cheeks and hearing the quickening of her breath. When she glanced up at him, he felt his own breath catch in his chest, finding himself captivated by her green eyes. She was beautiful, in both face and in character, and he could not help but be drawn to her.
“Let me help you, Josephine,” he murmured, as they drew near to the horse. “Do not be afraid.”
Her hands rested on his forearms. “I am not afraid,” she replied, her voice a little higher than before, making him chuckle. “But you will lead him, won’t you?” She eyed Hunter a little suspiciously, taking in his large size.
“Of course I will,” he promised, holding her about the waist with two hands for a moment, before lifting her up into the saddle.
Josephine let out a small shriek, before grasping onto the pommel with both hands.
“You are not going to fall,” he assured her, a smile spreading across his face as she let out a long breath, steadying herself. “Hunter is an easy horse, despite his stature. Come, let us walk towards the lake.”
Josephine gave a jerky nod, her eyes fixed on his face. “Just so long as you go slowly,” she said quietly, her fingers white on the saddle.
He chuckled. “I will,” he promised. “But by the time we reach there, I am quite sure you will be much more at ease.”
The lake was beautiful today. The sunshine, though it was dim, bounced off the water, seeming to sparkle as they approached. Josephine was no longer desperately clinging to the pommel but had let go and was now loosely holding the reins, sitting up a little straighter. It made him glad to see it, smiling at her as she let out a small sigh of contentment.
“You see?” he said, as they came closer to the water. “You have the ability to ride, Josephine. You just need a little more practice.”
She smiled at him as he held out his arms to her, ready to help her down. Hunter was already busy eating the grass, clearly ignoring the two of them as he ate. Josephine twisted her body a little and leaned down into him, only to let out a small cry as she half-fell out of the saddle.
“I have you!” he laughed, catching her carefully and setting her down. “That is one thing about Hunter I will say – he can appear to be rather high off the ground!”
Josephine did not laugh but rested her head on his chest for a moment, her feet only just touching the ground. “Goodness,” she breathed. “I think if I was ever to ride myself, I would need a much smaller horse.”
“That is true,” Gideon admitted, his mind suddenly full of the idea. If Josephine were to remain here with him, then he could help her choose her own mare, making sure to find one that was gentle enough for her to learn to ride. “I think, mayhap, Josephine, that is a very good idea.”
Slowly, her head rose and her eyes met his. Confusion filled
her expression as he let his fingers brush down her cheek, astonished by just how much he felt by a simple touch.
“Lord Dunstable,” Josephine murmured, her cheeks dusting with pink. “I –”
“Dunstable, please,” he interrupted, hating the formality. “We are beyond propriety I think, Josephine.” His throat began to ache and he cleared it, grimacing as he did so. He had not expected such a close interaction with Josephine to bring him such sensations.
Josephine frowned. “Dunstable, are you quite well?”
He smiled. “More than well,” he stated, firmly. “I have considered a good many things of late, Josephine and the truth is that I do not wish you to go from my life. I cannot bear the thought of you returning to London.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth opened but she said nothing.
“I – I confess that these feelings are rather new to me,” he stammered, feeling himself a little embarrassed. “I do not quite know what to do or say to you but one thing I do know.....I do not want you to leave.”
Her cheeks darkened all the more. “I will not stay to be your – your –” Looking away, he saw her eyes spark with a faint glitter of anger and realized what she thought he meant.
“No, Josephine,” he said firmly, catching a hold of her chin and looking deeply into her eyes. “Never as that. Never as that. I would not ask you to be my mistress, Josephine. I hold you in much too high a regard.”
As he spoke, he saw her whole body relax, her anger fading away to be replaced with something like astonishment. Gideon realized that she had not stepped away from him, that she had not immediately rejected the proposition, feeling his heart rise with gladness that she was, in fact, still in his arms. Slowly, so slowly, her hands lifted to his chest, resting there with a tentativeness that had him drawing in a shaking breath. There was so much vulnerability, so much uncertainty and yet nothing changed what he felt in his heart.
“Josephine, I....” Another wave of weakness ran through him and he closed his eyes, unable to finish the sentence.
“Dunstable?” Josephine said, her hands now on his shoulders as her voice rang with concern.
He shook it away. “I am quite all right,” he said, with a good deal less firmness than he had intended. “Truly, I am. This is all just a little overwhelming.” Opening his eyes, he looked down at her, his eyes flickering to her lips. The urge to kiss her was growing steadily with every moment that passed, the awareness that they were quite alone only adding to that.
What about Georgina?
A wave of guilt rushed over him. He had decided not to marry Georgina, yes, but he had not, as yet, spoken to her about the matter. He had not told her that their engagement was at an end and yet here he was with another lady in his arms. That was not right. He ought to speak to Georgina first before he allowed himself to confess his feelings to Josephine. There was a responsibility still towards Georgina and as much as he wanted to lower his head and kiss Josephine with all the deep affection he felt, Gideon knew he could not.
“Perhaps we should return to the house,” he said thickly, letting his hands drop to his sides. “I should not like anyone to question your integrity, Josephine – nor mine, for that matter.”
She frowned, stepping away from him. “I don’t understand, Dunstable.”
He tried to explain without mentioning Georgina, his guilt turning to shame. “I should not like to have the servants questioning your reputation, Josephine,” he stammered, trying to find some kind of excuse for his sudden coolness. “There are things I must make sense of, things I must first understand before I can give you all of myself.”
Her eyes watched him with an intensity that felt as though his chest had been ripped open and his heart tugged apart for her to scrutinize. His breathing quickened and he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the sweat beading there. Suddenly, he felt rather ill.
“Josephine, I –”
Stumbling, he tried to move towards her but found his legs wobbling. She gasped and darted forward, catching him in her arms and supporting him with every bit of strength she had.
“You are unwell, Dunstable,” Josephine gasped, holding him upright as she tried to help him move towards Hunter. “We must get back to the house. Can you pull yourself up onto Hunter?”
His vision was blurring as he looked at his horse, a little unsure how he was meant to climb up onto such a great height. His whole body was tired, weakness tugging at him as he put one foot wearily into the stirrup.
How he managed to get up onto the saddle, Gideon could not be sure. His head was growing painful, his throat aching as Josephine picked up the reins and, casting him a worried glance, began to walk hastily back towards the house. Hunter seemed to understand the urgency, breaking into a trot as they neared the stables.
“Hold on, my lord,” he heard Josephine say, as the stable hand came out to greet them both. “We will have you in bed and resting very soon. You need not worry. I will look after you.”
His voice was thick, his words rasping from a suddenly painful throat. “Josephine,” he said, somehow finding himself on the ground, supported by the stable hand and a groomsman who had appeared from nowhere.
She took his hand for a moment, her smile a little uncertain. “I will take care of you, my lord,” she promised, as they moved towards the house. “Do not fear. You will recover from the fever soon.”
“The fever,” he muttered, thickly. “So that’s what it is. I have the fever.”
Then everything went dark.
Chapter Eleven
“How does he fare?”
Josephine looked up to see Francine walk into the bedchamber, her eyes wide with concern.
“I’m afraid he has the fever,” Josephine replied, gently. “But we have begun to treat him almost immediately, which I am sure is going to help.” She swallowed her own fear, suddenly terrified that she would lose Lord Dunstable to the fever, just as she had lost her own mother and father. Everyone who mattered to her had already been taken, and now, just as she and Lord Dunstable had been on the verge of something inexplicably wonderful, he had been struck down by the fever. Turning back to Lord Dunstable, she saw him toss his head from one side to the other, clearly struggling with the fever already.
“Here,” she said to Gillian, handing her the cool cloth so that she could dab at Lord Dunstable’s forehead whilst she herself continued to mix up a fresh batch of vinegar and feverfew. Rising to her feet, she took Francine’s hands in her own and tried to put as much certainty into her expression as she could.
“Your brother is strong,” she said, in a calm, firm voice. “He will battle through this, I am quite sure of it. It may take some days but I will do all I can for him. I swear to you I will not leave his side.”
Francine nodded tightly, her expression growing troubled. “And what if he does not recover?” she whispered, her fingers tightening on Josephine’s. “What do we do then? The title will go to –”
“You need not think in such a way,” Josephine interrupted, firmly. “Do not let fear take hold of your heart and mind, Francine. Trust that your brother will have the strength to pull through this terrible sickness. You and your mother have the same spirit and you have both recovered.” She managed a small smile, seeing Francine’s eyes fill with tears. “You must rest also. Your strength is not what it once was as yet.”
Francine nodded. “I will help you whenever I can,” she said, hoarsely. “I suppose I must write to Georgina. Last Dunstable said, she was still in London.”
Josephine frowned, unsure as to who Francine was referring to. “Georgina?” she aside, letting go of Francine’s hands in order to make up her mixture of feverfew and vinegar.
Francine nodded, moving to her brother’s side and taking his hand. “Miss Georgina Wells, my brother’s betrothed.”
Josephine’s hands stilled, her heart suddenly beating violently in her chest. Lord Dunstable was engaged?
“She was here for a very short time,”
Francine continued, clearly unaware of the devastation her words were causing to Josephine. “But the moment she knew the servants were unwell, she left this place and returned to London in order to return with her father to his country seat. From what Dunstable said, Georgina’s father, Viscount Armitage, had already begun his journey back to the country and had not yet sent his carriage for her.” She shook her head, shooting a glance towards Josephine who felt as though she were frozen in place, confusion and upset mounting with every moment. “The foolish girl thought it best to remain in London, where the fever rages, rather than return here to aid us. I know Dunstable was terribly upset over her recent letter to him, but regardless of that, I should still inform her of his condition.”
“Of course,” Josephine replied, woodenly, recalling just how upset Lord Dunstable had been some days ago, when he had read a letter in the kitchen and then crumpled it up in his hand. She did not know at the time why he had been so upset but now realized that this letter must have been from his betrothed, Miss Georgina Wells. Daughter of a viscount, part of the nobility and certainly a good deal more suitable for a baron than the likes of her.
And yet, Lord Dunstable had drawn near to her upon receiving the letter, hadn’t he? He had been upset that his betrothed showed him no concern, showed no consideration for the illness of his mother and sister and then, subsequently, had stepped closer to her. The air had grown thick between them and she had felt her heart beating with a frantic hope, only for Jones the butler to interrupt them. Even this afternoon, Lord Dunstable had spoken to her with such truth in his eyes that she had struggled to accept what he had said. She could not doubt it now, surely? Not when he had held her in his arms and told her plainly that his feelings for her were feelings of affection.