Page 11 of A Duke to Undo her (The Husband Hunt #1)
Chapter Eight
“What a lovely day for a garden party,” declared Vera, walking arm-in-arm with her husband down the front path of the Earl and Countess of Gordenford’s gardens on the edge of Chelsea. “Everyone is going to be here, I believe.”
Beside them Josephine nodded and smiled, twirling a parasol on the shoulder of her apple-green walking suit as her eyes scanned the crowds.
“The Gordenford garden party is always a popular occasion,” she observed, taking in the various tables, stands and gazebos visible around the grounds. “So many people, so many different colored dresses, so many interesting hats.”
“Interesting hats?!” Norman queried with a laugh. “What mischief are you about now, Josephine?”
His sister-in-law grinned conspiratorially.
“Well, as the Gordenford twins have been sent to stay with their grandparents this year and will not be lightening up proceedings, Mr. Emerton and I have invented a new game to amuse ourselves. Depending on a person’s outfit, we decide whether they are a flower, a fruit or an animal.
It’s easier with ladies because their clothing is more interesting.
Gentlemen with large mustaches are almost always just walruses. ”
Vera choked back her laughter as a portly elderly gentleman with a particularly large mustache passed them and raised his hat just at this moment.
“That tall lady in coral by the oak tree down there is definitely a flamingo,” Josephine, “and the thin yellow-haired fellow beside her is a daffodil, even though he’s in grey. Now I see the Bishop of Leicester, all pink faced and squirmy. Perhaps he’s a worm, or a very squishy raspberry.”
“Dear me, Josephine, I’m not sure it’s a very well-mannered game,” Vera remarked, sharing a glance of concern with her husband, despite her amusement. “Someone could easily take offense.”
“Don’t worry. We don’t actually tell them,” Josephine assured her relatives. I promise, we’re very discreet. Look, there’s Benedict now!”
Handing her parasol impulsively to Norman, she raced off down the path towards the tall, blond-haired man who had now spotted her too and was smiling in her direction.
How nicely dressed Mr. Emerton was again today, not a hair out of place and not a crease in his shirt or jacket. Really, he would not be out of place as a male fashion plate, Josephine reflected with satisfaction.
“Lady Josephine, thank goodness you are already arrived,” Benedict Emerton told her with sparkling eyes. “I haven’t had time to get bored. My word, you do run fast for a lady. I almost want to race you myself.”
Josephine’s eyes gleamed.
“Then I promise I shall challenge you next time you call at Elmridge House for tea. It’s too busy here today and I’m sure some of the old gossips are already blackening my name simply for running down the path. They always do, the silly old busybodies.”
“Did I hear something about a challenge?” asked Dowager Duchess Nerissa, emerging from a nearby tent and taking hold of Benedict’s arm. “Good afternoon, Lady Josephine. How well you are looking today. That green certainly suits your coloring.”
Caught by surprise, and hoping that the dowager duchess had not overheard too much of her disrespectful remarks, Josephine still managed to bob a small curtsey.
“How kind you are, Your Grace,” she murmured and looked up to find the older woman looking at her with appraising but not unkind eyes.
“Have you talked to Lady Josephine about our house party?” Duchess Nerissa inquired mildly of her son. “The invitation should be at Elmridge House shortly if it has not arrived already.”
“I was about to speak to Lady Josephine about that, Mother. She has only just arrived. We are hosting a house party at Ashbourne Castle in a fortnight and I should like it immensely if you could come, Lady Josephine.”
“How marvelous!” Josephine smiled and clapped her hands before remembering her manners. “How very kind of you to invite me, Your Grace. I must naturally consult my sister, Lady Elmridge.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she found that Vera and Norman had now caught up with her.
“I think you forgot something, Josephine,” Norman laughed, handing back her abandoned parasol and then bowing to the dowager duchess. “Good day, Your Grace.”
As the older adults drew slightly to one side, presumably conversing about the logistics of the upcoming house party, Josephine talked excitedly to Benedict Emerton.
“What is Ashbourne Castle like? I expect you must have a lake and woods and lots of places where we can hold all kinds of games and parties.”
“Indeed we do,” Benedict confirmed with a broad grin. “Such things will be in my hands. My brother has little interest in trivial pursuits and generally delegates entertainments to me, while my mother will have her own group of older friends staying. You must help me plan everything.”
Josephine spun around in excitement, much to Mr. Emerton’s amusement.
“We must have a theatrical performance and charades, maybe a treasure hunt too…”
Her words and movements stopped abruptly as her eyes lighted upon a dark figure standing a little way from the main party, apparently looking directly towards her and Mr. Emerton.
Perceiving that he was observed, the Duke of Ashbourne immediately turned and walked away in the direction of an overgrown and partly disused area of the gardens.
“How did you make your brother agree to invite me?” Josephine asked. “I have the impression that he disapproves of me thoroughly.”
“It was my mother’s doing,” Mr. Emerton said mysteriously. “Really, don’t worry about all the Emerton family nonsense. Cassius always looks like he’s disapproving of someone or something. Perhaps it’s only dyspepsia, brought on by premature middle-age.”
At this idea, they both giggled together for a moment, but still the question lingered in Josephine’s mind: what could possibly have induced the Duke of Ashbourne to invite her to his home?
“Your Grace?” said Josephine clearly, making no attempt to lower her voice or give any warning of her approach.
She was satisfied to see Cassius Emerton start at her words before he turned to her with a scowl.
“Lady Josephine, what are you doing down here?” the dark-haired and unhappy nobleman demanded. “How did you even find this place?”
They stood on the other side of several trees and rows of bushes separating this land from the more formal gardens closer to the house. The sounds of music, laughter and conversation still drifted over to them, but faintly.
“Nowhere is off-limits at the Gordenford parties,” Josephine returned with a shrug, being someone who tended to go wherever she wanted anyway. “Not even the half-abandoned lower gardens. The twins play down here when they’re home from school but no one else bothers with it, I understand.”
“Did you actually follow me here by yourself?” the Duke of Ashbourne asked suspiciously. “Quite unbelievable! You really do have the most extraordinary ideas of appropriate behavior for anyone, never mind a young lady.”
“Oh, I’m quite aware of what you think of me, particularly that you think me a bad influence on your brother.
That’s what makes it all the more puzzling that you should agree to invite me to Ashbourne Castle.
I thank you kindly for the invitation, as I have already thanked the Dowager Duchess of Ashbourne and Mr. Emerton, but I do not understand it. ”
“What is there to understand?” said the duke rather gruffly, fixing her with his deep blue eyes.
“Perhaps, I only want to see what will happen when he has a surfeit of your company. Now, I suggest you return to the party before you are missed by your chaperones. We both know perfectly well that you should not be here with me.”
Only made angrier by this laconic answer and attempt to dismiss her from his presence like some underling, Josephine glared at the duke with her hands on her hips.
“You hope to make Mr. Emerton to see me in the same way that you see me – is that it? Well, that isn’t going to happen.”
As in the hallway at Lord and Lady Kemp’s house, the Duke of Ashbourne seemed to square up to Josephine in response to her defiance, his tall, imposing form looming over her.
“You can have no idea how I see you, Lady Josephine,” he said in a low voice that was almost a growl. “Absolutely none, or you would not be here.”
“I think your sentiments entirely evident from your expression, your words and your actions,” Josephine railed at him, her eyes flashing angrily and a strange heat rising not just in her cheeks but her chest and her belly too.
She wondered for a moment if she was growing a fever. That would not be convenient at this point in the Season.
“Your face tells me a story too. You look at me as though you hate me, Lady Josephine,” the duke accused her in return.
“Maybe I do hate you, Your Grace,” she snapped at him, feeling again all the same strange sensations he had excited in her that night in the hallway.
It was not a fever after all, but some peculiar effect aroused only by the Duke of Ashbourne. Was this really hate? It did not feel like any other dislike Josephine had ever felt, towards a spiteful playmate, strict governess or judgmental busybody. It was all-consuming, dizzying and compelling…
Afraid of her own inner tumult, Josephine stepped back.
Yes, she probably should go, even if it meant losing face.
Then a large hand reached out and took a firm hold of her forearm.
She gave a small, involuntary yelp, not of discomfort but of surprise at the bolt of heat and energy that ran through her body at this contact.
The Duke of Ashbourne was touching her skin with his bare hand and Josephine almost felt she would faint from it. Faint?! She never fainted…
“You must not…” she whispered breathlessly, hearing his own breath coming in equally ragged measure.