Page 2 of A Duke to Undo her (The Husband Hunt #1)

“How lovely. I do like well-dressed men,” commented Rose approvingly even while Madeline smiled and shook her head. “Was your heart racing, Josephine? Did you feel faint like Lady Jane when she first encountered Sir Edmund?”

“I suppose my heart was beating quite fast,” reflected Josephine after a few moments’ consideration. “I never feel faint, as you know. I did notice the carnation in Mr. Emerton’s buttonhole and thought it a very fine choice with his outfit and coloring.”

Madeline now gave a very loud snort of laughter.

“Your heart was only racing because you’d just been surprised by an unhappy pelican,” she told her friend.

“The poor bird was probably even more startled than you. I’ll grant that Mr. Emerton was likely very well-dressed, though.

It’s something I’ve heard people say of him, in contrast to his brother the Duke of Ashbourne, who is apparently too sensible to care for fashions and buttonholes. ”

“His brother sounds dreadful! Have you no romance in your soul at all, dear Madeline?” huffed Josephine with pretended offense, determined that Mr. Emerton was going to be her true love, regardless of the failure of her own reactions to align with those of fictional lovers.

“Would you really settle for a man who sweats all the time, wears a crumpled stock and rides an old nag?”

“If he was a good man, and seemed likely to treat me kindly, yes, I would,” Madeline returned with immediate frankness.

“There are far more important qualities in a husband than those you find in the heroes of your silly books. Looks and charm aren’t everything.

Just look at what happened to Lady Lucinda. ”

For a moment, all three young ladies were subdued as they recalled their acquaintance who had made a match two years ago with the devilishly handsome and reckless Marquess of Jedburgh.

Josephine and Rose had both sighed enviously over Lucinda’s luck at the time while Madeline had joined older and wiser women in doubting the wisdom of the young lady’s family.

After burning through much of Lady Lucinda’s dowry in cards or at the racecourse, and humiliating his new wife through his continued liaison with the morally dubious Dowager Countess Wetherhorn, Lord Jedburgh had crowned his unfortunate career as a husband by being shot and killed by a hot-headed Italian nobleman in a ridiculous duel over obscene remarks on the ladies of Florence.

Poor widowed Lucinda now resided with a spinster aunt in Bath, becoming both a tragic and absurd figure who seemed to have dropped out of London society.

“Sir Edmund is nothing like Lord Jedburgh,” Rose piped up after a time.

“The only time he gambled was when he staked his life on that card game in order to win Lady Jane back from the kidnappers. He was good and honest and true to her for the entire book. When he looked at her, the rest of the world vanished and he saw only Lady Jane.”

“That’s what you want, is it?” Madeline asked cynically.

“A man who dotes on you to the extent of ignoring everyone and everything else around him? Do you not think you might get bored or irritated? Imagine hearing only one voice all day, every day. I would much rather my husband and I went out into the world and we could discuss something new every time we met.”

“I’m sure I could never get bored with my true love,” claimed Rose with some vehemence. “Anyway, in my marriage we will communicate with our eyes and tell one another everything without even speaking.”

“Dear Rose,” sighed Madeline, patting the blonde woman’s shoulder. “I do hope for your sake that you find a good-hearted man who is far more practical than you. How could you ever talk about your children, or your servants or your estate, if you communicate only with your eyes?”

“I believe Rose only wishes to talk about love,” Josephine said. “For that, eyes often do seem perfectly sufficient. I see my sisters and their husbands do it all the time.”

“Not all the time, no,” Madeline disagreed cheerfully.

“Do be reasonable, Josephine. You know very well that Constance, Ophelia and Vera all take an active interest in the running of their homes and families as well as charitable works, music and other pastimes. They speak with their mouths like normal people.”

As if summoned by the mention of their names, the three ladies in question now came out from the conservatory door of the house and made their way towards Josephine and her friends.

“Lady Norfield, Lady Kilderhorn, Lady Elmridge, how lovely to see you,” said Madeline, standing and giving a small curtsey of respect to the older women whom she knew well and normally addressed on first name terms.

Josephine guessed that Madeline was unobtrusively reminding Rose of her older sisters’ titles, knowing that their bashful friend would be tongue-tied if she could not remember. Madeline was a considerate and thoughtful person, even if she did have no romance in her soul.

Rose jumped up and curtseyed too as she greeted Josephine’s sisters shyly but then she gave a little involuntary squeal as she saw the bundle in Lady Ophelia’s arms.

“Oh, it’s little Matilda! How sweet and tiny she is, Lady Kilderhorn. What a beautiful child.”

“Here, you may hold her if you wish,” laughed red-headed Ophelia, holding out baby Matilda to Rose’s eager arms. “Matilda is fed and freshly changed and therefore in a good temper. I assure you she is less sweet when hungry or uncomfortable.”

“It’s hard to imagine when she’s like this, isn’t it?” Madeline marveled, holding out a finger to the smiling child’s grasping little hand as she lay in Rose’s arms.

“We came out to tell you that it’s five o’ clock,” said dark-haired Constance, helping herself to lemonade. “You ought to get ready for tonight’s ball. Remember that Lord and Lady Silverton live almost an hour out of town.”

“Five o’ clock!” remarked Madeline. “My, we have lost track of time sitting out here this afternoon, and all of us need to get ready for the Silverton Hall ball. My father will be wondering what has happened to me. Rose, if you wish, I shall run you home in our coach. What are you wearing tonight, Josephine?”

“Oh, any old thing,” Josephine replied. “I feel quite fed up with ball dresses these days. I so wish we could still wear short skirts as we used to. Then it would be so much easier to dance and there wouldn't be so much fabric to trip over. I’m half-minded to see if there’s any of my short dresses left in the attic. ”

“Josephine!” Madeline reacted, her expression pained. “That would be highly improper. You’d never be invited to another ball, if you turned up like that.”

Constance glanced indulgently at her impetuous youngest sister whom she had always petted and spoiled, although she was now a strict mother to two sons. She smiled reassuringly at Madeline.

“Do not worry, Madeline. My sisters and I will be helping Josephine to dress this evening and I promise you that she will be entirely respectable. She will have her little jokes and better she makes them here in private than out in company.”

“Do you never get tired of being respectable, Constance? Or you, Vera and Ophelia?” Josephine sighed after her friends had reluctantly returned baby Matilda to her mother and taken their leave.

“I do, a little. It’s not that I want to do anything really bad, I just can’t understand why people don’t want to have more fun.

Society seems to determined to make itself miserable sometimes. ”

“Dear little Josephine,” said Vera wryly, dropping a kiss on her youngest sister’s hair.

“Is that really how the world looks to you? You always were such an impetuous creature. Constance and Ophelia, do you remember the to-do when Josephine released all the hounds because she thought they were unhappy being locked up in the kennels so long?”

“Oh, I do!” chuckled Ophelia. “The gamekeepers were so cross. Not only did they have to catch the dogs but they had to rush out and gather up all the game chicks before the hounds got them. You nearly put paid to the whole shooting season at Norfield that year, young Josephine. It’s lucky that Victor saw the funny side. ”

“Victor loves Josephine as much as we do,” Constance declared fondly. “We still think of her as our first child, rather than Adam. Now, I always believe Josephine looks best in white. Shall we dress her in the white silk tonight?”

“Yes, with Mothers’ green sapphire earrings and pendant to match her eyes,” agreed Ophelia, nodding sagely. “What about hair? Ringlets perhaps? Your maid is very competent with the latest styles, Vera.”

“Too fussy,” Josephine objected immediately, thinking of the curling papers, tongs and unpleasant smells associated with teasing her naturally wavy hair into tighter curls. “I do wish I could just leave my hair down my back."

“Well, you can’t, dear,” Vera said. “How about pinned braids, Constance? That way Josephine’s hair has some chance of staying in place when she dances. If it isn’t braided in some way, it does often end up all over the place and down her back anyway.”

“Yes, that is a good idea. That style suits you well also, Josephine,” the eldest sister decreed. “Then, the light green silk dancing slippers would look well with the rest of the outfit, and white gloves, of course.”

“All is decided. How lovely you will look, Josephine,” added Ophelia. “This is always such fun, isn't it? I can’t wait until Matilda is old enough to dress up.”

“I’ll just have to carry on being your doll for a few years yet, won’t I?” the youngest sister answered ambivalently, drawing laughter from her siblings.

Josephine loved and appreciated her sisters well but presently felt that she wished to be left alone. She knew she would enjoy the ball well enough once she arrived, especially if the orchestra was lively, but getting ready was a chore.

As they all rose and strolled back towards the house, chattering further about Josephine’s toilette, the young lady herself felt only rather tired and frustrated.

It was as though no one in her family ever really listened to her.

They thought of her as a naughty but lovable child rather than an exasperated young woman who was chafing at unnecessary restrictions.

Life seemed easier for Constance, Ophelia and Vera.

They had likely never wanted to dance like a maenad in a ballroom, run out into the rain in their nightdresses or wear short skirts, all the better to run and jump about.

Respectability, calmness and demure behavior came as naturally to Josephine’s older sisters as breathing.

It sometimes made her worry that there was something wrong with her. Why had she been born so different?