by Regina Darcy
“Because I was jealous,” he said as he finally admitted the truth out loud.
“Jealous?” she repeated. “Whatever for?”
“May I sit down?”
“You do not have to ask my permission,” Josephina answered listlessly. “This is your home; these furnishings are yours.”
“That is not how I would have you see them,” Joshua exclaimed. “I want this to be your home.”
She shook her head. “I have realised that I cannot do what you ask.” She bit her lower lip. “Even though we have a contract binding us to our marriage agreement, I cannot pretend for three years. I thought I could.”
“What do you mean? Do you prefer Hastings to me?” Joshua replied, his heart thudding in his chest.
Not again.
“Hastings? What has he to do with this? I cannot please you if I do not know what it is that you want from a wife. If I cannot please you, then we must bring this masquerade to an end.”
He recognised the truth in her words, but he also did not wish for their union to be brought to an end, not like this. Surely, there were amends he could make for his behaviour, something to assure Josephina that he meant no harm.
Was this his lovely, temperate bride speaking with such resigned fortitude?
“Josephina,” he implored, sitting down on the chair by her bedside and clasping her hands in his. “I have been a fool. I thought that I could marry for convenience. It turns out that I cannot.”
“Then we must break the contract. It will be very hard on my sisters, but I would not hold you to ties which bind you where you wish to be free.”
Josephina’s tone was tearful but resolute, and she still looked away from him, her cheeks flushed with colour as her grip on his tightened, the meaning in them clear.
“Free? Would it be freedom if I were deprived of your presence? I realised last night—”
“Please,” she begged, removing her hands from his, “please do not bring up last night. I am terribly ashamed that I did not behave as I should have. I meant no harm. I am unfamiliar with London ways, that is all, and you must accept my apologies.”
“Only if you will accept mine, Josephina,” he said, claiming her hands and bringing them to his lips. “I was jealous because Hastings was flirting with you. It was harmless, I know, and there was no menace in it. But you and I had no courtship, and therefore we did not have those pleasant interludes between a man and a woman where they admit their attraction to one another. I married you, but I did not woo you.”
Josephina’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
She looked down at their hands, hers small and pale compared to his large ones, but she could not seem to find the answers she was looking for, no matter how hard she tried.
“You had no reason to woo me,” she finally said.
Her hands felt comforted by his clasp, and she refused to acknowledge to herself why she should feel that way.
No, she must not think his actions more than what they were. This was no declaration of love. It was time to end this before she shattered.
“We agreed to the terms of the marriage as you decided them. There is a contract—”
“A pox on the contract!” he declared. “I want a wife, not a legal associate. I thought that I could not mend my heart. You know of my attachment to the Viscountess Randstand, who thought she was a widow, only to have her husband return from the dead. I felt myself an object of mockery, and when you appeared at the Harvest Ball, with your preposterous ruse, I leapt upon it. I thought that I could restore my dignity by marrying you. As the days moved closer to our wedding day, I found myself more beguiled by your delightful ways. But I could not concede to myself that a marriage in name only was unsatisfactory. Can you forgive me?”
“I—”
“If you cannot,” he said humbly, “then tell me what I must do. I cannot go on with a marriage that is on paper only.”
Her dark eyes widened like saucers.
“If I thought that you meant this,” she said, “I would . . . I would wonder if you meant that we should be married longer than three years?”
“Then wonder no more, Josephina,” he said. “For three years will not be enough to sate me.”
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her with an abandon that was unlike anything that either of them had ever experienced.
The only intimacy Josephina had known was the unwelcome advances of the presumptuous Lord Devon and the annoying Mr Ruckner. And Joshua, although not unfamiliar with the charms of the fair sex, he had not ever, not even with the Viscountess, surrendered himself to those ardent emotions.
At first Josephina had no idea what to do, frozen as she was, yet pressed against him, a myriad of emotions slamming into her all at once, leaving a blazing fire in their wake. She clung to him, breathless, noticing the smile on his face as he drew back and stared at her.
Josephine took a deep breath.
She had never been kissed by anyone, least of all so thoroughly, and with such abandon.
Both of her suitors had attempted such a feat once the opportunity had arisen, but she had been able to rebuff them every single time, the thought of their lips anywhere near hers filling her with revulsion and fear.
With Joshua, there was a world of difference, and she suddenly understood how a kiss could make a woman go weak in the knees, and feel as if she were about to swoon and collapse into a man’s arms.
“Is that a yes, Mrs Hendrickson?” Joshua teased, his dark eyes alight with humour and warmth. He left some space between them, allowing Josephina to heave her first deep breath in what felt like forever.
“Yes?” Josephina repeated, running her hands along her lips. “Yes, to what?”
“To making this a real marriage,” Joshua replied. “If you do not wish to do so, you must tell me so at once, and at the end of our three years together, I will release you from our contract, and you will not be indebted to me in any way.”
“But, but you said … I mean you love another, the Viscountess of Randstand,” Josephina sputtered, heart hammering against her chest, and confusion lingering in her eyes.
Joshua sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.
“Yes, I know what I said and what others have implied,” Joshua replied. “I cannot deny that something of the love I had for Tabitha will remain with me.”
At his words, Josephina’s heart sank all the way to her toes.
I am a complete and utter fool.
“What I felt for her was passionate and burned brightly.”
“I,” Josephina began then bit down on her bottom lip. “There is no need for you to say more.”
“But there is,” Joshua countered. “Because what I have come to feel for you burns just as brightly.”
“It does?” Josephina asked, her voice breathless.
“Yes. My love for you started like embers. It was a slow burning love, but fed by your kindness, vivaciousness and delightful innocence, it has grown into a fire storm. I believe, in time, it will purify my heart from any remnant of love for anyone other than you, my darling.”
“I—”
Joshua shook his head and placed a finger to her lips. “I do not desire anyone else, my love, and you are the only person in the world who can make me happy.”
“Truly?”
“Truly,” Joshua replied. “Will you let me try and woo you? I would be honoured and blessed to be the keeper of your heart, Josephina Hendrickson.”
“And I yours, Joshua Hendrickson,” Josephina whispered, mesmerised as he covered the space between them and pressed his forehead to hers, their breath intermingling.
Mrs Barkley, entering the room with a pot of her special tea on a tray, saw her master and mistress locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to anything but one another. Silently, she stole from the entrance and closed the door.
It appeared that, whatever had been troubling Mrs Hendrickson, she was on the mend now.
PREVIEW: FOR THE LOVE OF A SCOUN
DREL
PROLOGUE
“I say, old man, how is that daughter of yours?”
Viscount Longford smiled as he thought of his daughter Teresa, the apple of his eyes. Her heart-shaped face, her dark brown curls and her sparkling green eyes that so often reminded him of his late wife.
“She is doing very well, Dunlop, thank you.”
The Earl of Dunlop, Viscount Longford’s long-time acquaintance, rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“She’ll be coming of age soon enough, won’t she?”
“She ought to be out already,” Lord Longford replied, with a slight grimace. “The truth is, Dunlop, things have been so bad with the estate that I’ve not been able to take her to town for the Season. If her mother had still been alive – God rest her soul – then I would not have to worry about such things but, as it stands, Teresa has had to remain at home. The only reason I have come away from there is to see my solicitor, although I am glad to have the opportunity to see you again. It has been a long time.”
Lord Dunlop chuckled, his eyes still thoughtful.
“I still remember what it was like when we were both young men, out in London looking for our brides. How fortunate we were.”
“Indeed,” Lord Longford murmured, his heart still filled with a love for his dearly departed wife. “I had hoped for a good match for Teresa but since I have been unable to take her to town, I may have to consider other means.”
Lord Dunlop nodded.
“Well, as it happens, I do have a son.”
Lord Longford paused, looking over at his friend who was busy pouring them both another brandy.
“Your son and heir, I presume you mean,” he said, slowly. “I would have thought he might have married now.”
Shaking his head, Lord Dunlop handed Lord Longford his glass of brandy and sat back in his chair.
“Not yet. It appears he is not as enamoured with the London set as he thought he’d be. He shows no interest in any particular lady despite my encouragements to find someone who is a suitable match. I am beginning to wonder if an arrangement might suit him just as well.”
“An arrangement, you say,” Lord Longford murmured, taking a sip of his brandy and letting it spread warmth through his chest.
“Tell me about Teresa,” Lord Dunlop continued, waving a hand. “Does she know how to run a household?”
“Of course,” Lord Longford replied, quickly. “that is what she’s been doing ever since her mother passed away. She is well mannered, genteel, articulate and knows exactly what is expected of her.”
Lord Dunlop smiled in delight. “Wonderful. Hugh is, of course, fully aware of his duties when they should come to him – not that I have any intention of creeping into my grave just yet!”
Lord Longford laughed, feeling much the same sentiment.
“Hugh is a rather sensible fellow, for which I am grateful,” Lord Dunlop continued. “he has no particular vices I am sure, and everyone speaks well of him. If you are amenable, we could make a very good match for them both.”
Lord Longford though quickly, wondering about his daughter and how she would feel about an arranged marriage. To his surprise, the idea took hold quickly, making a sense of satisfaction rise in him. After all, he reasoned, he had not been able to take Teresa to London when she was of age, which meant that soon society might think her on the shelf. He did not want her to live her life alone, aware that he would one day leave this earth and, in doing so, leave her behind.
“I think Teresa would be amenable to the match,” he said, slowly. “What of Hugh, however?
Lord Dunlop shrugged. “He will not take much convincing if any. He is more than ready to settle down and, just so long as his wife is what he requires from such a companion, I am certain he will accept her with gratitude. After all, it takes all the difficulty out of finding a match for themselves!”
“Indeed, it does,” Lord Longford agreed, a smile fastening itself to his face. “I could bring Teresa to London for a few short weeks so that they can become acquainted and then be married by Season’s end.”
Lord Dunlop lifted his glass in a toast.
“Capital!” he exclaimed, a broad smile settling across his face. “Then it is settled. My son shall be betrothed to your daughter and, in so doing, we shall join our two families together. A wonderful idea, if I may say so.”
Lord Longford chuckled, amused that his friend was congratulating himself on his own wisdom.
“A very good idea, Dunlop.” He raised his glass and tapped it against Lord Dunlop’s, feeling a deep sense of happiness begin to settle in him. “To our families uniting,” he finished, before taking a long sip of his brandy. “My goodness, I can hardly wait to get home to tell Teresa.”
Not once did he worry that his daughter might be distressed at being married off to a stranger, after all, she was a most dutiful daughter.
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