Josie rolled her eyes. She couldn’t put two-syllable words together in his presence.
Jeanie threw a pillow at her. “You’re acting like a child,” she said, giggling. “You must love him.”
Josie jumped to her feet and threw the pillow back. “I am not, and no I don’t, you hypocrite.”
Love him?
Preposterous. She couldn’t love a man so…so… Her mind went blank, her body flashed cold, her fingers tingling and numb.
The handkerchief fell from her slack fingers. She swiftly bent and scooped it up. The little square of fabric was now the only thing of warmth on her. So hot in her fist, it might burst into flame.
“What’s that?” Jeanie asked.
“Nothing.” Josie’s heart took off like a fox.
“Oh, very well.” Jeanie scooted off the bed and around to Josie. “Sit and I’ll brush your hair. Hopefully it doesn’t need a wash.”
Josie blinked. She wasn’t going to push to see what Josie was hiding? Relief flooded her. “We’re not at home. I could have a full bath if I wanted.”
“True. But why make someone haul all that water?”
Jeanie pushed her down onto the stool before the dressing table, and just when Josie was beginning to relax, Jeanie yanked the object from her fist.
“Give that back!” Josie cried.
Jeanie held it up. “Why would you hide a handkerchief? I saw you wipe your face with it when you came in.”
Josie folded her arms and spun toward the mirror. “I wasn’t hiding it. I have to give it back to him.”
“Him?” Jeanie murmured as she turned it over in her hands and spotting the initials. “P.R.M.?”
“Lord Selhorst’s initials, if you must know.” There was no use hiding it, though she could feel pinpricks of tiny beads of sweat on her forehead.
Jeanie watched Josie’s reflection in the mirror and then handed it back without comment.
Josie swallowed. “I should have given it to the maid to launder.” She spread it over her lap, tracing the letters.
“Do it later. I wonder what they stand for?”
“Patrick Richard Madden,” Josie said absently.
“Hmm,” Jeanie replied as she took out the pins holding Josie’s topknot in place.
“You think I like him,” Josie said.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. You know your mind better than me.”
Josie met her gaze in the mirror. “What does that mean?”
Jeanie shrugged. “If you want to tell me, you will.”
“I don’t like him,” Josie implored. “I find him annoying.”
And intimidating. His overly large frame that was like a stout oak tree, tall and wide, overwhelming and yet comforting in its strength, its ability to withstand storms and time year after year. She could take shelter under him, but with those fathomless blue eyes, she felt like she was drowning in emotion, and then those strong capable hands touched her, and suddenly she didn’t know who or what she was anymore.
Jeanie brushed her hair. “What about him annoys you so?”
“He thinks he knows everything,” Josie said. And perhaps he did. The whole world was open to him and locked away from her. As if being born with his male anatomy had somehow gifted him greater powers. Her throat grew thick. It was entirely unfair how the world worked for him and not her.
“Oh, yes. That is a most annoying trait. I have a sister exactly like that.”
Josie swatted at her sister. Jeanie danced away, giggling.
That one comment brought a bit of lightness to Josie’s muddied thoughts and she half smiled. “Are you suggesting the reason I dislike him is because he’s too much like me?”
“I didn’t say it. You did.”
Josie huffed. “I think you’re right.”
Jeanie grinned and re-pinned Josie’s hair.
* * *
Refreshed by a bath and change of clothes, Josie retreated to the back kitchen garden where she could remove her shoes and feel the earth between her toes. She needed grounding. She felt better than before, but her world was still off-kilter. Luna had returned with the other guests and was with her, combing through the patch of herbs and sniffing bits of leaves.
“Why do you dislike him?” Luna asked.
“He’s arrogant.” Josie repeated the same arguments, though they sounded flat to her own ears. There was something more to him that she couldn’t name. She didn’t have the words yet to define what she was feeling regarding Lord Selhorst.
“So are all the other gentlemen.”
“No. This one is different. The other men have no intention of showing their interest because they too have realized the futility of this party. So, why is Lord Selhorst trying so hard? And why me?”
Luna shook her head as she twirled a rosemary sprig between her fingers. “He’s just like you.”
Josie frowned at her feet and wiggled her toes. “Don’t say that.” Though it was obviously true, she didn’t need to hear it again.
“Tenacious to the point of annoyance,” Luna added.
Josie scowled at the worn toe of her boot she held in her hands. Soon her toe might pop through it, and she had no other boots to wear. She sighed. “Will you go check on Mother today?” Josie hoped the change of subject to their expecting mother would distract Luna from asking further questions.
Luna sat on the bench beside her. “She doesn’t want me to. She says I must spend all my time with the gentlemen to show them my best qualities.”
“But what about her nausea? She can hardly eat a thing. The baby needs nutrients to grow.”
“I know, but I’m not a surgeon. She’s having her tenth child. I think she can manage on her own without my help. I’m just the cook.”
“You’re more than that. You learned a great deal about herbs from those books I gave you.” Josie bumped her shoulder against Luna’s. “You’re our resident witch.”
Luna smiled wearily. “Can you imagine if I could be a doctor? If I could go to school and learn real medicine?”
“I can imagine,” Josie said, her heart squeezing. One day women would have all the opportunities men had. There were women physicians now, but they were rare.
“What about your own apothecary? You could help people that way?”
“Oh, sure,” Luna said with a short laugh. “Let me just have my solicitor withdraw the funds.”
Josie snorted. “Point made. It was only an idea.”
Luna sighed. “Ideas are nice. But this party is really the only chance we have to make a difference in our lives. We must marry if we want to improve our circumstances.”
“None of these men want to marry poor women. Father is healthy. We have time to find another way to save us from Cousin Irving. This baby could be a boy or…”
Now it was Luna’s turn to bump her shoulder against Josie. “Or we could comb the beach for lost treasure.”
“Or Cousin Irving could die.”
Luna laughed. “How is that better?”
“Did you see the way he sneered at the curtains Jeanie had made during his last visit? Like they were sack cloth.”
“Who inherits after him?”
“I don’t know. Someone we’ve likely never met.”
“If that’s the case, I hope he isn’t married. He can’t be worse than Cousin Irving.”
“You marry him,” Josie suggested.
“To be honest…”
Josie peered at her. “What?”
“I’d rather marry one of the men here. If I’m to marry for convenience.”
“Don’t say it.”
“They are rather handsome. All kidding aside, we will be lucky if this party produces one marriage. Just one of these men could support our whole family.”
“We’d still lose our home to Cousin Irving when father dies.”
“But we wouldn’t be destitute. There would be someone to protect us.”
Josie folded her arms. “It’s not fair that we must depend so much on men
.”
Luna bumped her again. “If you had to depend on one, which would it be?”
Josie’s heart knocked around inside her. “Oh, so now it’s come to word play. We’re talking of marital congress, aren’t we?”
Luna chewed her lip. “Lord Selhorst seems taken with you.”
“Bite your tongue and swallow it. I’d prefer you to be mute if you’re going to utter nonsense like that.” A blush raced along her skin, setting little fires until she was certain all the hair on her body was singed.
Luna poked her side. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“Don’t quote Shakespeare to me. And that was a disgusting misuse of the quote, I must say.”
“I’ve had to listen to you spout it all my life. Aren’t you glad I retained some of it?”
“Yes, I’m a bit proud.”
“Lord Densmore has brooding eyes. I like them.”
“His brother is his replica but the edges less hard.”
“And not as serious.”
“Which means troublesome. None of them want to marry,” Josie warned. “It’s foolish to set our caps for any of them.”
“But it is fun to dream.”
Josie scoffed. “Dreaming is for children. Remember how we used to dream about falling in love?”
Josie fiddled with her boot, but she could feel Luna’s judging stare.
“What is so absurd about falling in love? Mother and Father married for love. If they can do it, why can’t we?”
“And look where it got them? Father has spent years away, neglecting his family and his estate duties. Everything is in disrepair. A body cannot subsist on love. Love will not keep us warm or keep food in the pantry.”
“Then I suppose we ought to marry for the convenience of money. Thank goodness the castle is at present flush with wealthy gentlemen.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “You’re missing my point.”
“Am I? It seems you’ve made a very good argument for participating in this party.”
“That wasn’t my point at all. It is just as futile to wish to marry for love as it is to hope one of us will marry one of these gentlemen. We are living at the mercy of men.”
“You sound as if you’ve already had your heart broken. Is there something I don’t know about?”
“Life breaks my heart.”
Luna snorted.
“When I think all we’ve endured, and I see other women like us struggle, and yet we are so limited in our ability to change our fates. It breaks my heart. I refuse to be beholden to any man. I want to change our circumstances, and help other women do so, without needing a man.”
She met Luna’s stern gaze.
“And what if during this party, you are the only one who comes away with a proposal?” Luna asked. “Will you reject him, spurn him, just to hold on to your ideals while the rest of us, who would greatly benefit from your marriage, continue to suffer?”
“That won’t happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
Luna stood and folded her arms. “Your dreams are just as elusive as love. Perhaps you will change the world, but that change won’t happen swiftly enough to help us. And if you married the right man, he wouldn’t stand in your way. He’d help you because he loves you.” Luna picked up a little basket she’d used to collect herbs. “I’m going inside.”
Josie looked after Luna, the little stem of rosemary abandoned on the seat beside her. She picked it up and sniffed it.
She flushed with anger, mad at herself and Luna. No one understood how important this was to her. To see women educated just like men. How could they so easily accept the status quo when it benefitted them so little or in some cases blatantly hurt them?
How would love change any of those things? Love was only a rosier version of lust. She’d never given much thought to either state. But something inside her resonated with the word and called to mind…
Sensations, a heavy body on top of hers.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d had a man on top of her this morning, and she hadn’t yet analyzed the experience.
Lord Selhorst was a large man, wide and thick. She knew that, intimately, because he’d lain on top of her. She could recall the weight of him, the pressure against her breast and stomach. And then he’d ridden with her back to the castle, his arm around her, his body cradling her in the sturdy V of his thighs.
A small quiver slid down her spine, goose bumps erupting over her skin.
What was this reaction he’d given her?
A peculiar awareness of his body and how hers fit against it.
She knew very little of lust, admittedly. It wasn’t something often mentioned in the books she read, except in Shakespeare.
This momentary joy breeds months of pain. This hot desire converts to cold disdain.
Lucrece had it correct. Nothing good would come from lusting after a man, no matter how broad his shoulders or fine his face.
But… There was a little knell of warning in her mind, an annoying ring that just wouldn’t go away. She hated not knowing something. All knowledge held value, even the romanticized notions such as love.
It was true he unsettled her. His thick, wavy auburn hair and radiant blue eyes were quite stunning. Combined with his large size he was altogether…thrilling.
She covered her face. Why were her cheeks so warm still?
Her body throbbed, sensations and a strange peal of urgency making her skin prickle with heat.
Good heavens, this was not normal for her. Was she coming down with something? Had he infected her with something?
Lust?
That would imply he had been feeling lustful.
She remembered the titles of the books he’d been carrying when he’d crashed into her. He’d tried to say it was a lark, but that could have been a falsehood. She blinked, her hand touching the small bulk in her pocket.
She withdrew the book, careful to glance and make sure she was utterly alone.
Soul Kissing by Philippe De Fino.
She opened the little book, the spine cracking in protest, as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while or maybe never at all. She read through a brief forward and then turned to the first chapter, furrowing her brow.
Kissing is the infinitesimal bonding of two souls beyond the capability of words. A kiss can be an expression of many emotions, kindness, friendliness, comfort, but a kiss on the mouth, the fusion of two beings by the locking of lips and tongue—
Josie slammed the book shut.
Locking of lips and tongue?
Did lovers touch tongues when they kissed? She made a disgusted face and yet… She was also intrigued.
There was so much she didn’t know about lust and love and about the physical act. If she stayed true to her plan and never married, then she might never know. Unless…. She performed her own experiment.
She wasn’t worldly, but she knew that women could certainly pursue their own pleasure. Widows, financially independent upper-class women, did so at their own risk.
Josie bristled. It was yet another inequality between men and women. A man could find pleasure outside of the binds of wedlock, and never be shamed for it, but a woman?
Must remain chaste until her death.
Bollocks. The world was not fair.
She couldn’t change the world, but she could increase her knowledge of it, all she needed was a few more books. The kind that Lord Selhorst had been returning to the library just this morning.
Chapter 4
The following day Patrick waited in the library for over an hour, pretending to read Robinson Crusoe, spread open in front of him at one of the long tables. He’d soon have to abandon his station and join the others for tea, but he had a feeling she would appear if only he had patience.
He focused on the pages before him, a familiar story he’d read at least twice, but he couldn’t focus, not when his nerves were stretched so tight in anticipa
tion. The tension in him intensified and he held his breath.
The door to the balcony above him opened, and like a ghost, she stepped through. Her nose in a book and utterly oblivious to anything outside of it. He watched her cross the balcony and disappear into the little corner where he remembered the chair to be by the round stained-glass window.
He stroked his chin, wondering how he could gain her attention.
He tried clearing his throat, but she did not come to see who might be occupying the lower half of the library. He coughed, still no response.
He whistled a jaunty tune. Only then did her petite form come to the rail with a comically amusing scowl.
“My apologies, I didn’t know anyone else was here,” he said.
“Well, now you do. Please refrain from whistling in the library.”
“But the acoustics are marvelous for whistling.”
“Be that as it may. This room is for reading and reading is a quiet activity.”
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.
“But not necessarily a lonesome activity. Will you join me?”
“Thank you, but…” She looked down at the book in her hand. “No.”
He raised a brow. “I promise not to whistle or make any noise at all.”
She shook her head. “I must concentrate.”
“Oh, so you find me distracting?”
Her hand tightened on her book. Was she tempted to throw it at him?
He grinned. “Suit yourself. I’ll be down here if you’ve need of me.”
She turned away without a word, and if he listened intently, he could hear the whisper of the air being squeezed from the padding of the chaise as she sat, or reclined.
He brought the image to mind, of her lounging, one arm folded behind her head, book propped against her leg.
“What are you reading?” he asked. He wanted to complete his vision.
“None of your business.” Her voice drifted down to him.
She’d be furious if he went up there. But what if he needed another book? A specific book only found on the upper balcony?
He was intensely curious about her sitting arrangement. Did she sit properly, ankles crossed, spine straight?
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