Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"–and I told him, ‘That's not my dinner coat, my fine fellow.'" Lord St Vincent's eyebrows rose with his words, his chuckles already breaking through his syllables as he delivered the punchline of his joke, and the table erupted in laughter.

Henry laughed right along with Lady St Vincent and Lady Josephine, his head shaking slightly in disbelief as the staff came in to start clearing the table of their dinnerware.

"You really ought to retire that story, darling," Lady St Vincent sighed, dabbing the corners of her eyes nonetheless with her handkerchief as she did, her laughter still present in her tone. "Eventually, it is going to get you in trouble."

"How could it get me in trouble at the table of my future son-in-law?" Lord St Vincent demanded, grinning widely at Henry as he did.

Henry only smiled, snorting slightly as he looked across the table as the married couple continued their good-natured fussing.

He'd caught Josephine staring at him several times over the course of their dinner that night, a thoughtful, almost worried look in her eye. He might have found it flattering if not for the last bit. But, as it was, he was just curious.

"If you're in no rush," Henry offered as he stood, "I'd be delighted if you would care to join me in the sitting room. I have a nice bottle of port for the two of us and a lovely bottle of red wine that Lady Fethmire insisted the ladies have a chance to try when last she visited."

"I've never turned down a good port," Lord St Vincent chuckled, rising from his chair and reaching out to assist his wife in doing the same. "Besides, my wife had already suggested we give the pair of you a chance to talk privately. Get to know one another before jumping into—"

"Darling," Lady St Vincent hissed, cutting her husband off as she grabbed his arm.

"What? You had!"

Henry bit back a smile at their fond bickering, his eyes sliding to Josephine again in time to see her watching the scene fondly.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you need to be so blunt about it, dear," Lady St Vincent sighed.

"I did tell you before," Henry murmured, extending his arm so they could pass him out of the dining room and into the hallway, "I do appreciate that very same bluntness, Lady St Vincent."

Lord St Vincent beamed as he tucked his wife's hand into his elbow, causing his wife to sigh all the more dramatically. "You're incorrigible," she muttered.

Josephine stepped easily into his side, surprising Henry as she mirrored her parents' position, her hand sliding over his elbow. "Don't worry, she'll blame him for the entirety of it," she faux-whispered.

"Ah." Henry's exhale was a half-silent laugh. "I am greatly reassured, thank you."

"Of course. Sometimes I think this is how they keep themselves from becoming bored," she confided, falling into step with him as they crossed from the dining room to the sitting room behind her parents.

"I think there could be worse ways."

And Henry could name quite a few of them that were far more distasteful and common in the ton as well, though he was glad he didn't have to.

He paused at entering the sitting room, crossing to the drink cart and procuring the glasses he'd had readily set up for after dinner to begin pouring. Lord and Lady St Vincent followed, lingering as he handed them their respective glasses with a nod of thanks.

"Oh, I do say, this is aged well." Lord St Vincent whistled appreciatively as he took his glass.

"Darling."

"Ah, right, yes." Lord St Vincent's moustache bristled as he looked quickly around the room. "We'll just sit on the other side of the room there, overlooking the grounds if you don't mind. You can pretend we aren't even here."

"Darling!"

"I didn't mean it that way," he huffed, already leading his wife away towards the couch he had indicated. "Really, you can't expect me to think about everything I utter before it leaves my lips!"

Henry bit back a laugh as he watched them wander off, his gaze slowly sliding back to his intended as he handed her the glass of red wine he'd poured for her before leading her over to the loveseat in front of the fire.

Her father wasn't too terribly off base in assuming it would be easy to pretend they weren't there. With the way that the room was set up, the St Vincents would have their backs to them, and he or Josephine would have to turn to look to see them. It was about as private as society would allow.

"I'm beginning to think that ‘darling' is an entire language in your mother's vocabulary," he teased as he sat down on the loveseat, waiting for her to join him.

Josephine chuckled. "It is rather, isn't it? Depending on her tone, it can mean a great many things."

"Like your eyes."

Josephine looked up, surprised, her eyebrows lifting slightly.

"You always seem to be looking for something," Henry explained, taking a sip of port as he leaned back into the arm of the loveseat. "Assessing, rather. Most of the time, it seems to be trying to figure me out. Tonight, however, it seemed as if you were searching for an opening for something."

Unless he was terribly off his mark, which he wasn't confident he wasn't.

Josephine's gaze dropped, her fingers spinning the glass of wine by its stem between her hands as she inhaled sharply. "Sometimes, I think your eyes see too much."

Henry didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or a complaint.

"Is something bothering you? Is there something about our upcoming nuptials that needs to be discussed?"

Josephine's oceanic gaze snapped back to his, her blush receding as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, no, nothing of the sort. I was just trying to find a way to best bring up my running into someone in the village yesterday."

The village?

It was Henry's turn to raise his brows, unable to think of anyone she might have run into that might have elicited such a wary response as to warrant her trying to find the right time to bring it up.

"Lady Catherine Brisby?"

Her name was like icy fingers down Henry's back, his wince more reactive than anything else.

"Martha's sister," he stated with a sigh.

"Yes … that is what she said." Josephine hesitated, taking a quick sip of her wine as an obvious ploy for time.

"What else did she say that has you so uncomfortable to bring up?" Henry asked, loathe to hear the answer or even imagine what it might be.

"She asked me to call off our engagement." Josephine didn't meet his gaze as she took another quick drink. "Demanded it, rather. She said that our getting married was a slight to her sister's memory and … oh, several other things in such a vein as well. I think she was really rather peeved when I refused."

Henry felt his frown deepen at her words, his relief only matched by his disbelief. He didn't know what he might have done if she had insinuated anything close to what she had been trying to do at his home the other day.

"I apologize for her behaviour, really. Had I known she meant to approach you, I would have warned you. I thought it was only me that she was comfortable voicing such things to."

"She voiced opposition to you as well?"

Henry winced again. "She hasn't been a well-woman since the passing of Martha," he admitted, the words carefully picked. There was, as it was, still a great deal of sympathy for her for it. "I do not think she's thinking very clearly. I don't like to imagine that she has been like this the whole time, but I do know for a fact the day of her passing, she struggled with it … and I think perhaps the announcement of our engagement has just upset her enough for it to be an issue once more."

"That must be difficult for you," Josephine murmured, her eyes searching his. "I can take care of myself. I'm not worried about it, per se. I just thought it was something that, with you being my future husband, you ought to know."

"Something a spouse would share?" Henry guessed, finding himself amused with the way she had reasoned it.

"Well … Yes."

"I think whatever is important enough for you to want to talk about is important enough to impart to me, no matter the subject or my involvement in it."

Josephine's expression shifted, her pupils dilating slightly as the blue of her eyes seemed to deepen.

"I think that's a very well-crafted response, Your Grace," she muttered, a faint red tinting her cheekbones as she looked up at him.

Henry found himself unable to look away.

Josephine's eyes darted between his, that red growing deeper, and before he could think of anything to say, she lifted her glass, downing the rest of her wine and looking considerably more red for it.

Henry fought the urge to grin, his cheeks aching with the unfamiliarity of it as he reached to take her glass and set it off to the side. He surprised them both when he took her hand with his free one and folded his fingers over hers once more as well.

If he were going to be a good husband, he reasoned as he finished off his port to set to the side as well, then he would need practice, would he not?