Page 32 of A Duke to Undo her (The Husband Hunt #1)
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ireceived your message and came straight away,” Lady Madeline said, untying her bonnet in the hallway of Elmridge House where Lady Elmridge had come to meet her guest, an anxious expression on her face. “Are you very worried about Josephine?”
From somewhere in the house, a pianoforte played a rather mournful song and Josephine’s voice could be heard singing to its accompaniment. Vera sighed and beckoned to Madeline to follow her.
“Josephine has not been herself since we returned from Ashbourne Castle yesterday and her mood is most peculiar. I have never seen Josephine like this but she will not tell me or Norman what is wrong. I would rather she was with you than alone, Madeline. You have always been such a sensible friend to my dear little sister.”
“I am sure it will pass in time,” Madeline offered. “These things normally do, I understand.”
“Yes, Josephine always has her moods and whims, doesn’t she? But she never usually rejects her food or spends hours playing sad songs to herself on the pianoforte. Constance thinks that she must be in love with young Mr. Emerton, but Norman and I don’t think so. Do you?”
“No,” Madeline agreed surely, but giving no hint of Josephine’s real secrets as confided to her and Rose in the coach on the way back to London the previous afternoon. “I share your view. She is not at all in love with Mr. Emerton, nor he with her.”
“Well, then. I hope it is something rather simpler than that and might be cured with good company,” said Vera more cheerfully, now at the music room door which she opened to admit the younger woman. “I do hope you will stay for dinner tonight too. Josephine, dear, Madeline is here to see you.”
The music stopped abruptly as Madeline stepped into the room.
“I miss him so much,” Josephine sobbed in her friend’s arms. “I do not know how I will bear never seeing Cassius again. It is too cruel.”
“I know, I know. Dear Josephine…”
Helpless to assure her distressed friend, Madeline only offered the same meaningless words of comfort one might give to a crying child. Still, Josephine was glad for her solid presence and not to have Rose there, wittering innocently about the power of love.
When the initial storm of tears had passed, Josephine wiped her face with her handkerchief and sat up. She knew she must be a complete mess by now, her hair all around her shoulders, her eyes red and her sash loose. None of it mattered.
A now-cold tray of tea and cake sat on one of the tables, brought by a maid after Madeline’s arrival and with Josephine’s portion still untouched almost an hour later.
“I tried a cold bath this morning, Madeline, but I felt twice as bad afterwards,” Josephine admitted. “That is meant to be one of the remedies for a broken heart, but it only taught me that it is worse to be cold and miserable than warm and miserable.”
They both tried to laugh at this vain attempt to lighten the conversation but could not sustain any good humor yet.
“I wonder if a complete change of scenery might help you more than cold baths,” Madeline suggested. “You might go with your sister Ophelia and Lord Kilderhorn when they return to Scotland after the season. You could get to know baby Matilda and she might prove a welcome distraction.”
“I would be even further from Ashbourne Castle,” Josephine pointed out and Madeline nodded soberly. “There would be no chance of running into the Duke of Ashbourne at all.”
“That would be the idea. If there is really no hope in the situation, and you say there is not, then it would be best to move as far away from it as possible. Your heart cannot heal while it is still being constantly pricked, can it?”
“I am not sure that I want it to heal,” Josephine conceded. “I do not want not to love Cassius. I do not want to forget him. Yet, I know you are right, Madeline. Oh, why can’t I be as sensible as you?”
“You are more sensible than you used to be,” her friend told her. “I have despaired of you and Rose at times, with your stories and ideals and make-believe heroes who never break a sweat or take a wrong step.”
“I discovered something far better than stories,” Josephine reflected bleakly. “Yet, I cannot have it, and I can never forget it. What will become of me, Madeline?”
Before Madeline could answer, there was a knock on the door and a young maid opened it.
“Mr. Emerton is here to see you, Lady Josephine. Shall I bring more tea?”
The two young ladies looked at one another in surprise. While Benedict Emerton had firmly promised to call for tea in London, there had been no indication that this would be quite so soon. It was barely a day since they left Ashbourne Castle.
A few moments later Vera led the blond man into the music room, her face more puzzled than ever.
“Madeline, dear, Mr. Emerton has requested a few moments to speak to Josephine alone and I am minded to grant this request if Josephine is in agreement. You and I can sit in the room next door.”
Josephine blinked, looked to Benedict Emerton and then nodded, utterly confused.
Why should he wish to speak to her alone in such a formal manner?
If they wished to make silly jokes or remarks, they could normally giggle together in a corner or walk ahead of their companions without any need for this sort of fuss.
“Nothing has happened at Ashbourne Castle has it?” she suddenly thought aloud, rushing to Benedict’s side. “Your mother is well, isn’t she, and your brother?”
“Yes, my mother and Cassius are both well,” he assured her quickly, his fair-skinned face more solemn than usual. “Do not worry yourself. Ashbourne Castle is exactly as you left it yesterday.”
“Oh good,” Josephine sighed, relaxing again. “Well, then. Do sit down there, Mr. Emerton and we shall have tea, without any bad news.”
Madeline and Vera had both now left the room and the door closed quietly behind them.
“Thank you for doing me the honor of receiving my addresses, Lady Josephine,” said Mr. Emerton as soon as they were alone.
Josephine laughed slightly and sat down on the sofa beside him, comfortable as always in his presence.
“Why are you talking in that silly formal way, Mr. Emerton? I don’t believe I have ever heard you talk like that to me.”
He smiled self-consciously and looked down, something evidently on his mind.
“I rather thought I should, since I came here with the express intention of asking you to marry me. Isn’t that how I’m meant to talk?”
“Marry you?!” exclaimed Josephine, this being the last thing in the world she had expected. “Do I understand you right, Mr. Emerton? You wish me to marry you?”
The entire idea was incredible. What had come over him? Josephine even wondered if her friend might have fallen from his horse and hit his head.
“Well, we are such good friends and I can’t imagine enjoying anyone’s company more than yours,” he replied with a shrug as he tried to justify his proposal.
“Some people marry with far less personal sympathy than that, in my experience, especially when they marry for money or position. We should never grow to hate one another as they often do.”
“Benedict, you and I are not those people. We are the kind who would never marry for money or position, even if our families wished it. We will only marry for love. You and I can always be good friends and enjoy one another’s company anyway, can’t we?
Why should we marry? I don’t understand you at all. ”
Benedict Emerton gave a laugh and sat back on the sofa, shaking his head ruefully. He did not take her reaction in ill-part at all, but still seemed troubled by something. There was a shadow across his usually sunny features.
“It seems I have entirely made a mess of my first proposal of marriage, Lady Josephine, if even the lady in question cannot take it seriously.”
Josephine regarded him fondly and took one of his hands in hers, feeling it no different in that moment to taking the hand of Madeline or Rose.
“Benedict, you are one of the best men I have ever met and one day, some very lucky woman will be fortunate to call you her husband. But answer me truthfully, in your heart, do you really want me to be your wife? Picture it and answer me honestly.”
“No,” he admitted with a long sigh after following Josephine’s instructions. “You feel more like my friend, or my sister, not my wife.”
Josephine nodded, satisfied.
“That is exactly it,” she agreed, patting his hand and releasing it. “You feel like my brother, not a man to marry. What on earth put all this into your head?”
“Cassius,” he confessed with groan and a slightly guilty expression. “We argued last night, Josephine. He really is unbearable sometimes.”
Josephine looked down, afraid to ask for the cause of their argument or its outcome. Benedict Emerton continued, regardless, now wanting to get his full story off his chest.
“He has been urging me to marry since I turned one-and-twenty, and even told me that I shall have the family’s London house for my own household when I do marry. This week, he entirely changed his tune and told me I should marry you. Last night, he pushed me too far.”
At this explanation, Josephine winced, reminded painfully of Cassius making the same suggestion to her at the worst possible moment in the library and then again by the fountain.
“That isn’t why I did it,” Mr. Emerton added hastily, misinterpreting her reaction.
“I am not so easily led as to do everything Cassius tells me. It was more that I felt I couldn’t bear to be under the same roof with him a day longer.
I thought that if we had our own home, and I escaped Cassius trying to control me, we might be happy together. ”