Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Their shared moment the night before had changed nothing.

And yet, it had changed everything at the same time.

Henry didn't allow Josephine to be moved from his side the next day. Not by guests. Not by her own family. She stayed with him, at his side, hand in hand, as he should have demanded from the start.

And somehow, it changed everything still more.

Henry's temper was less present and his mood more stable. Their guests, even those less welcome, annoyed him less. As silly as it was, it was as if the sun shone brighter. As if the very air was clearer and more pleasant to breathe.

Josephine, at his side, carried herself with all the grace and aplomb of a duchess, her auburn hair clipped back from her face and her eyes shining as she kept those around them entertained. And Henry watched her, his eyes tracing the way one side of her lips lifted higher than the other when she smiled. The way that her nose started to wrinkle just that second before she laughed.

"You cannot spare her for even a moment?" Lisbet pressed, dragging Henry's attention away from his bride-to-be and back to their group once more.

"Are you not visiting with her now?" he countered, one eyebrow lifting as he bit back a laugh.

"I – What? Of course I am, He – Your Grace." Lisbet sniffed, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes in admonishment. "You know very well what I meant."

"Oh, leave him alone, Lisbet," Simon chuckled as he came up behind his wife. It was a rare show of him being the one to temper her, his hand on her shoulder as he grinned over at Henry and Josephine. "Do you not see how happy the man looks? Let him have it."

Lisbet quieted, her eyes turning thoughtfully to Henry as he snorted.

Happy?

He supposed he was that. He certainly felt more like himself today. More like himself than he had managed in years. It was an odd phrasing, but he knew what Simon meant by it. As did Lisbet, apparently.

"You do look … more like yourself," she murmured, her voice slipping slightly as her eyes misted.

Henry felt his throat tighten, his eyes slipping to Josephine at his side to ensure they weren't making her uncomfortable with all their sentiment and circle-speak. But she was looking up at him with a smile all her own, an understanding in her blue eyes that he knew he didn't deserve.

"I am happy," he said simply, not looking away from Josephine as he said it.

Because he was.

Lord, what a feeling that was.

"See?" Simon grinned, drawing all eyes back upon himself as he pulled his wife to his side. "So let them be. Let them enjoy one another. We cannot have been married so long for you to forget how sparsely you are allowed such in the first few months."

"And how much more sparse it becomes again once you start producing heirs." Lisbet sighed, sinking into her husband's side with a resigned nod. "We won't monopolize you any further … for now. Go dance with one another before someone not as understanding sets upon you. I've seen the Lady St Vincent eying you both thrice now."

Henry followed his friend's sharp eye, seeing Josephine's mother doing just that again.

"And she is not a woman to be put off for long," Josephine acknowledged with a laugh. "Henry?"

He looked down, Simon and Lisbet forgotten at the impish dimple appearing at the right-hand corner of Josephine's lips.

"Did you want to dance?" he teased as if she hadn't mentioned it at least twice since they'd finished their last number.

He might have found it annoying, had she been anyone else. He had hardly imagined wanting to dance so often again himself. Really, he had, when he'd first come up with such a plan, imagined that he would fulfill his duty with one dance and beg off any other.

Dancing, though, he found, allowed him to have Josephine close to him without any fear of repercussion or gossip.

"We thank you–" Henry stopped mid-sentence as he turned to say goodbye to Lisbet and Simon, blinking as he came face to face with empty air.

"It seems they have already gone." Josephine laughed, tucking her hand into the bend of her arm. "I think they took advantage of our being distracted."

Distracted. That was a good word for it.

Henry shook his head, amusement filling him as he led Josephine over to the dance floor once more.

"I think you've rather forgotten how these things actually go, Henry. You remember it in the wake of having been married."

Simon's words echoed in his head as Josephine fitted into the circle of his arms, his hand resting lightly against her lower back. She fit perfectly there, her face lifted up to him with a smile that hit him straight in the chest.

Maybe he had forgotten how these things went. Or maybe it was just that it happened differently with each person. It wasn't Martha, Josephine wasn't Martha. And as much as he would have thought that requirement alone not being met would remove all possibility of falling in love …

He wasn't so sure that it did.

Josephine's eyes shone brightly, the blue so captivating that he was spellbound as he spun her around the dance floor. The traces of green and grey flecks inside of that blue caught in the light, shimmering and making that periwinkle seem to deepen.

"Have I complimented you yet on how fine a dancer you are?" he asked distractedly, pulling her closer as the tempo of the music allowed.

Josephine's grin grew, her head tilting slightly as she shrugged. "Is it bad if I tell you that I cannot honestly remember? You've given me so many compliments today."

She didn't seem displeased by it, the note of teasing in her tone making him snort.

"There have been a great many things to compliment. I could have phrased it less nicely, I suppose, to keep you on your toes."

"Oh?" Josephine's brows rose, a hint of challenge in the tilt of her chin, and Henry's lips twitched at the sight of it.

"Indeed. I could have simply said, ‘I'm surprised at how well you dance given your lack of social experience.'"

Josephine's teeth flashed into a ready grin, her amusement plain on her features as she laughed in the face of what many would have called an insult.

"And I would have answered that dancing was my favourite part of the evening at those events that I did attend," she returned gaily, spinning out of his arms on the next step. She grinned over her shoulder as she spun, coming back to him with a grace that was hard to miss.

"I am unsurprised that your dance card was full," Henry admitted. He imagined it would have been even more so had she been out in actual society and among London's rakish youth. "I will admit to being surprised that you enjoyed it so. Dancing is not something that I would have guessed to be among your interests."

Josephine shrugged, seeming to contemplate his words as she did. "Is it terribly ill-mannered of me to admit that it was much more favourable to dance with most men rather than struggle through their banal attempts at conversation?"

Her honesty elicited a short bark of surprised laughter from him, the mental imagery of her dragging some poor bore off onto the dance floor to shut him up, making him snort.

"It's terribly honest of you," he corrected, lips still twitching. "I cannot claim not to wish I had some such similar way out of those conversations, though."

Josephine's nose wrinkled, her lips pursing as she fought laughter herself. "I do suppose it would look rather odd were you to take some young lord out onto the dance floor and ask that he dance the female part."

"You're assuming I would not wish to be the one twirled about so."

They both only managed to hold their serious expressions for half a second before conjointly dissolving into laughter once more.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Josephine breathed, almost stepping on his toes in her distraction. "Just the image of you being spun about …"

Henry couldn't even imagine it, though he did try.

"Should I be concerned that you can so easily conjure such an image?" The song ended, but Henry kept her in his arms regardless, sweeping them both into the steps of the next dance without pause.

"I've always had a very vivid imagination." Josephine gave him an apologetic look only slightly marred by the amusement still playing across her features. "It's from all the reading, I imagine."

"Knowing your taste in literature, that almost gives me pause," Henry joked, brushing her hair back from her shoulders as they neared the edge of the dance floor. He could see her mother hovering, and he knew, as captivating as he found her, that if he waited too much longer, he would be too enthralled to think of anyone beyond the two of them.

"Considering you share the same taste, I rather think that says more about yourself than anything else."

Henry was almost tempted to spin her back around away from the edge of the floor to the centre once more, but they had been spotted, and as selfish of a man as he may be, he knew that he had a whole lifetime to be so.

"Josie!" Lady St Vincent called happily as they moved off the floor and closer to her. She grinned at them both, shooting her daughter an appraising look that Henry didn't quite understand. "The two of you make such a handsome pair dancing."

"A handsome pair regardless, I should hope," Josephine quipped laughingly.

"I do hope you're enjoying yourself, Lady St Vincent," Henry murmured, surprised when Josephine's hand trailed down his arm to push into his all of her own accord.

Surprised and elated.

"It is a lovely evening, Your Grace. The company has been excellent, in no small part due to Lady Fethmire. Dinner was a gay affair, and the dancing, though I've yet to be able to join in a wholly entertaining sight. I do think it's aptly displayed which guests to monitor on alcohol consumption the night of the wedding."

Henry's eyebrows rose, wondering what she was referring to and having it answered for him before he could do much more than that.

Lord Irvington, a long-time friend of his family, looked to have stumbled, his round rump firmly sat in the middle of the dance floor with one arm still raised as if to save his champagne from spilling despite how much of it already dampened his clothes.

"Someone should help him," Josephine murmured, stepping forward as if she intended to do just that, but Henry only tightened his hold on her hand.

As they watched, one of his servants rushed forward, quickly and quietly moving through the guests to help Lord Irvington back to his feet, even as others moved to distract from the scene.

"I have an excellent staff," Henry reassured both women with a small smile. "Would the two of you care for a drink?"

"After that display?" Josephine's mother laughed. "I think I'll stick to water."

"Oh." Josephine looked slightly disappointed, her eyes darting between her mother and the lord being led out of the room. "I suppose I'll have a water as well …"

"Oh, Josephine, you're about to be married." Lady St Vincent laughed. "It's high time you make your own decisions without worrying about what I think. You'll be the lady of this house in less than a week's time. Besides, you look happier than I think I've ever seen you. I worry much less about a person's drinking when they are happy versus sad."

Something about Lady St Vincent's words embedded itself into Henry, his gaze flickering down to Josephine to find her wearing an expression as if it had much the same effect on her.

"Happier than you've ever seen me?" she repeated, highlighting those same words dancing around Henry's skull.

"Yes, dear." Lady St Vincent smiled, tilting her head slightly as if to question why her daughter suddenly seemed so confused. "Are you not happy?"

"Maybe I wasn't until now," Josephine said cryptically, her fingers tightening slightly around Henry's.

Her mother laughed as if it were a joke, but again, something about the words struck Henry.

He knew that he hadn't been.

After Martha, the days had become dull and grey. They had stretched before him with endless lists of responsibilities and duties. The monotony of each day had been all that he had to look forward to.

And then Josephine had stumbled into his life, all blunt honesty and witty repertoire. She had brought warmth and light back into it.

And happiness?

Maybe he was only just starting to feel it again himself as well.

"The two of you are a pair." Lady St Vincent laughed, reaching forward to pat their joined hands fondly. "Someone will need to be near you during social affairs to explain your random trailing off into silence at inopportune times."

Henry winced, going to offer an apology, but Josephine beat him to it.

"I was just thinking, Mama."

"You are always just thinking," Lady St Vincent teased.

"And I'm afraid that might be yet another thing we have in common." Henry sighed. He hadn't even realized that Josephine had trailed off as well. Not until her mother had pointed it out.

But his first thought wasn't to consider that they would need someone with them at all times. Rather, they might do better to abstain from too many public outings. The idea of having Josephine all to himself, again, was more than a little tempting.

"I will leave the two of you to stare at one another in pensive silence then," Josephine's mother teased. "Or perhaps dance some more!"

"You ought to convince Father to take you out on the dance floor," Josephine suggested archly, earning an equally arch look from her mother.

Henry allowed his thumb to rub slowly over Josephine's knuckles as she walked off, his eyes falling back to the woman at his side in awe.

"I think we should take her suggestion," he teased, pulling Josephine back to him and spinning her back towards the dance floor.

"And I think that we should take some time after the wedding before having more guests," Josephine muttered so softly that Henry wasn't even sure she meant him to hear her.

"More and more similarities," he teased, his chest warming at their shared sentiment.

Time for just the two of them was hardly something he would discourage when he had been considering it so often just in the last half hour.