Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"You look as if you've swallowed a porcupine," Josephine's mother hissed at her as they followed several steps behind the duke and her father, still heavily immersed in wedding planning.

Josephine tried to smile, even if the expression was somewhat shaky. It was hardly the first time her mother had said something in that vein since they had set out for the duke's estate that morning.

And she could hardly help it.

Her mind was filled with Caroline's revelations, the big ‘M' echoing in her mind despite her best efforts to put such rumours and whispers aside.

Murder, murder, murder.

She nodded and answered at the appropriate times, being sure to keep her expression pleasant any time the duke cared to look her way, but any time he was otherwise occupied, her control slipped … and her mother poked and prodded with both her fingers and her words until Josephine forced her smile back in place.

"Aren't you happy, Josephine?"

The question caught her off guard, her gaze slipping away from the two pairs of broad shoulders in front of her and to her mother. Her mother stared at her plaintively, worry furrowing her brow.

Her eyes danced between Josephine's own, her hand reaching out not to prod Josephine again but to press as if encouraging her to speak up if she wasn't.

Josephine was reminded all over again why she had to carry out the task set before her.

The two men stopping in front of them as they walked back into the house through the side door saved her from having to answer her mother's question, their group joining as one again as the maid – Elenor, Josephine thought she remembered her name from when she had been introduced to the staff that morning – closed the door once more behind them, shutting them into the manor.

"What a wonderful idea." Josephine's father chuckled as the four came to stand in a sort of circle there in the foyer. "Darling, His Grace has suggested that Josephine might like a private tour of the manor … and informed me that his cook prepared a honey cake this morning that you and I could go and sample while they became better acquainted."

He beamed at them both, his eyes twinkling with ill-repressed joy, and Josephine felt her smile become more genuine just to see it.

"You and your honey cakes." Josephine's mother laughed, her gaze darting between her husband and daughter as she hesitated. "Of course, I have no objection … so long as Josephine is inclined?" Her voice rose at the end, the sincerity in her eyes making it clear that she was asking about more than just the duke's offer of a tour.

And Josephine was hit by a wave of emotion, her throat closing up as she forced her smile to be brighter, her fingers closing hard around her mother's as she nodded.

"A tour sounds lovely," she murmured, letting go of her mother's hand and reminding herself of what was on the line.

The duke remained impassive through the exchange, his green eyes shrewd but his expression shuttered.

"Elenor here will show the two of you into the drawing room," the duke said once it had been decided, his large hand sweeping back to indicate the maid who hurried to jump and do as she was told.

Josephine's father was only too happy to follow, her mother shooting Josephine one last glance before being led off alongside him.

And then there were two.

Heaven help her but standing next to him was intimidating. And not only because of the news that she had only just learned.

Heat seemed to fizzle between them, a kind of static clinging to her hand as he offered her his arm silently. Even just placing her palm on his sleeve felt indecent, her stomach doing flips that felt impossible as she kept her gaze off of the bright green that seemed to skewer her to the spot.

"I don't imagine we will have time to tour the entire manor," the duke offered conversationally as he started walking with her on his arm. "But I imagine it might make things easier if you have some familiarity with the house before being dropped into it."

His phrasing made her snort, her eyes finally lifting to his as she considered him. It was a kind thing he was doing, showing her around. Even kinder given his reasoning.

"Thank you," she murmured honestly, relaxing somewhat as he led her down one of the main hallways.

"That, as you know, is the informal dining room," he indicated with a nod. "And to the left is the main library." He paused in the doorway, allowing Josephine to step into it and look around at the massive room.

It was large, with heavy brocade fabrics and wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with tomes of all shapes and sizes. The chairs were elegant and opulent, the fabric not even faded where one might imagine from repeated use. It was lovely, of course, but Josephine couldn't quite imagine herself perusing the shelves comfortably.

"And down the hall a little further," he continued, slowly leading her as she stopped peering into the library, "we have a more private sitting room, more often referred to as the ‘private library'."

The second room was smaller and more cluttered, though no less charming for it. It, too, was filled with wall-to-wall shelves but the chairs within were mismatched and clearly worn in. The fabric choice was more eclectic, a large set of windows at one end boasting a cushioned window seat with pillows in a sage-green colour that Josephine thought rather matched its lord's eyes.

"Oh," she breathed, taking it all in and laughing somewhat breathlessly as she shot him a half-apologetic look. "I know it should likely be the opposite, but I can much more easily see myself in this library rather than the other."

The duke was staring at her, an oddly intense look in his eyes as he did.

Josephine shifted sheepishly under his gaze, her lips opening with a ready apology before he cut her off.

"Martha–" he stopped, wincing as he cleared his throat. "My late wife … She was much the same mind. I don't think she entered the public library to do more than entertain." His grief was apparent as he spoke, but so too was the fondness with which his voice shifted over her name.

And Josephine's tongue moved faster than her brain, all of her questions and worry tripping out of her in odd confluence.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your late wife," she whispered, wincing at how paltry it sounded aloud. "I mean, I was sorry to begin with," she continued quickly. "I only just learned about the circumstances of her death, and I know it likely makes things much harder. That is to say – oh, I'm botching this terribly. I only meant to offer you sympathy. You can hear how much you love her when you speak of her."

Josephine cut off, biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep from digging herself any further into the hole of embarrassment she had created.

The duke stared at her still, his expression unchanged despite the fluctuating emotions in his green eyes. For a long moment, he said nothing, making Josephine's stomach clench.

"I appreciate your sympathies," he said at last, his voice carefully even. "And your candour." He paused, his gaze searching hers. "And your use of the present tense."

The heaviness behind his last sentence hit her, though she didn't quite understand it. At least not at first. Present tense? She cast about for what she had said, mentally repeating the words before it hit her.

Love, she'd said. Love, not loved.

Her sympathy deepened, understanding then what he meant.

"I assure you it will not hinder me from trying my best to be a good husband for you," he said softly at her lack of response as she processed the information.

Her laugh was sudden, catching in the back of her throat as she looked up at him.

"I don't need your love." Again the words tripped out of her lips, entering the air before she could think better of them. "I don't expect it, Your Grace. It is not as if we met by chance, and you promised me any such thing. Ours is an arranged marriage. I have my own reasons for having agreed to it beyond simply just out of societal expectation."

The duke's eyebrows rose, his chin tilting slightly, and Josephine only just stopped from offering an apology for how forthright she was being.

The damage was done. She had already spoken, trying to backtrack would only be painfully obvious and make things more awkward besides.

"My father's estate isn't what it was," Josephine admitted slowly, trying to think of how best to phrase it. "There's little chance that the two of them could live comfortably without help, and while my elder siblings married well enough, they did not do so well as to be able to provide for them in their old age – or perhaps they are just unwilling."

"And so the duty falls to you," the duke surmised, his tone betraying nothing as to his opinion on the matter.

Josephine nodded.

"Marrying you suits us both," she continued hesitantly. "You were in need of a wife and I of a husband who had the means to provide for my family."

It was uncouth, admitting such things aloud, but the duke didn't flinch in the face of the facts. Neither did he move away from her as if her words offended him.

He only continued to stare at her, seeming to ruminate on her words before he snorted.

"I have no intention of falling in love with you either, Lady Josephine." His tone was wry, his eyes sparking with an unexpected humour. "I don't mean that any more rudely than I think you meant it when you said it either. I don't think it is possible for me to fall in love with anyone now. I do love Martha, you are right. I am not certain there is room for me to love anyone else alongside that."

Josephine's shoulders relaxed hearing him say it, relief pouring through her. Though there was a second unnamed emotion there alongside it as well that she didn't much care to examine more deeply.

"I'm glad to hear that we are both on the same page regarding our expectations for this marriage then," she quipped, unable to keep the teasing from her tone.

The duke surprised her with a sudden laugh, the deep sound filling the air like a rich velvet that travelled right through her.

"Matched expectations and the ability to so forthrightly discuss them are important factors in a successful marriage, so I've been told," he answered cryptically.

Josephine didn't quite understand the humour, like a secret joke that she wasn't to be let in on, but she returned his grin all the same.

"I think that is more than most people can expect, is it not?"

The duke nodded, leading her out of the ‘private library' with a wry smile still in place.

Lord but he was even more handsome when he smiled.

It was difficult to look at him head-on as if his good looks were hard to look at for too long.

"It is," he agreed. He looked at her as they walked, a familiar look in his eye that twisted Josephine's stomach in an entirely different manner.

"Is this where you tell me that I'm a singular creature again?" she asked archly, unable to keep from meeting her discomfort with sarcasm.

She was surprised by another sudden burst of laughter from her side.

"No, although I think it would be fitting." The Duke chuckled. "I was thinking something similar."

But not exact?

Josephine wanted to know what could be similar, but she'd already used up all of her bravery on her earlier line of questioning.

"I'll pay your father a sum this week," he continued, not slowing at all, even when Josephine nearly tripped over her own feet at his words. "His financial situation, as my soon-to-be father-in-law, shouldn't be allowed to be called into question. Perhaps I can do so under the guise of a wedding gift."

Josephine was struck momentarily mute.

How did you thank a man for doing what one had made it so clear that they wanted?

She certainly hadn't expected him to be so ready or to help so quickly. Relief filled her in a way that she had never experienced, tears pricking the backs of her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, unable to find words to express her gratitude better.

"Thank you," the duke repeated, stressing the words. "You cannot imagine how refreshing your frankness is."

Josephine laughed. "I'll endeavour to continue to be so then." Even if she imagined at some point it might become less refreshing.

The duke's lips twitched. "And I'll endeavour to remember how to be a good husband." He slid his arm from under her hand, the length of his sleeve travelling her palm until fabric became skin and he could flip his hand within hers as he took her hand in his much larger one.

The skin was rough and calloused but soft at the same time, his fingers eclipsing hers as he held her hand as they walked.

The contact sent jolts of warmth through her, her mouth going dry as she tried to ignore the girlish whispers in her head.

Engaged couples held hands, she reminded herself. It was a perfectly normal thing to do.

Even if it made her feel as if her body was floating somewhere outside of the manor.

"I shouldn't claim to be able to tell if I would know the difference you know, having never been married before." Josephine's face warmed directly after she said the words, wincing at the honesty that he just seemed to pull straight out of her.

But the duke's thumb was warm and comforting as it traced the back of her knuckles.

"I'd say that was lucky for me, but I have no intention of misleading you." He paused as they stopped in front of a small door, opening it as he offered her a half-smile. "This is my private sitting room. I like to go here when I want privacy."

The room beyond was more masculine than any of the others, dark woods and full of a scent that reminded her strongly of the man beside her.

"In my endeavour to be a good husband, however, I imagine I must tell you that it is, of course, never off limits to you."

His humour warmed her, along with the reassurance he offered her. It was light, both genuine and unserious in the same breath, and Josephine could feel that worry that had been gnawing at her ease just slightly.

The duke might set her on edge and fill her with emotions she didn't quite know how to comprehend. Maybe his late wife had perished under suspicious circumstances … but between the two of them, it seemed like they were learning to navigate those circumstances.

Even if he made her feel like a nervous, bumbling idiot.

Even if her stomach twisted into knots of desire just from holding his hand.