Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"You're staring again." Josephine, even after the hours she'd spent in bed with him, still felt self-conscious when he looked at her like that. Like he could see straight through her and inside the core of who she was. Like he had stripped her of more than just her clothing and virginity.

Henry's lips twitched, his fingers gliding down the slope of her cheek as he offered her an unapologetic half-shrug. "You're beautiful."

Josephine spluttered, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks warmed from the compliment all the same. Given what they had just done, she would have anticipated it to mean less. But somehow, with her clothes shed off to the side of the bed and her hair mussed from their strenuous activity, it meant more.

She knew that she had to look a mess, hardly like a respectable lady at all, but Henry stared at her as if she were resplendent in her finest gown and fittings.

"I don't want to leave," he continued softly after a moment, his fingers shifting so that he could brush them just barely over the shape of her lips.

"I can't tell you not to," Josephine whispered. No matter how much she wished that she could.

"Not yet, you can't," Henry corrected with a low chuckle. "But soon …"

Soon. Soon, they would be married, and him being seen leaving her bedchambers would be expected. An everyday occurrence even.

"Maybe another hour wouldn't hurt," Josephine murmured, loathe to lose his body heat warming her. Loathe, even more, to miss out on any moment she had left alone with him.

But he hadn't had another hour.

Josephine felt bold even remembering her suggestion, her blue eyes pondering at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were still stained red at the memory of earlier that morning, and the night before.

God, but he had been … attentive. She didn't know another word for it.

She had never imagined that such pleasure could be found within an act that so many women disparaged their husbands seeking out so often. There'd been so very little that she was allowed to hear, as an unmarried woman, in the first place. But surely the act they all dreaded so openly had to be something different.

She couldn't imagine wishing him not to come to her bed and desire those things of her.

His hands … his lips … Her face flushed even darker at her thoughts, her lips twitching as she spared herself one last, long evaluation.

She expected to look different.

She certainly felt different.

More of a woman. Less of a girl.

It was as if when he had been inside of her, he had reached within her and removed those last vestiges of her girlhood. Like he had taken every insecurity and worry and twisted them up into his fist to do away with.

She felt… special. Treasured. Wanted.

No matter how depraved some of those acts had been, she had felt respected throughout the whole of it.

And it made her love him more for it.

God, she loved him.

She had tried so hard to avoid that word. Tried so hard to ignore those blooming feelings.

But she could no longer do so. And she did. She loved him.

Her laugh was wry as she finally broke away from the mirror and headed for the door, the early morning sunlight streaming through the hall as she stepped out into it.

She needed to move.

Every muscle in her body felt cramped and sore. Like she had been laying for too many days abed … or maybe like she had been doing the opposite and expending too much energy. She didn't know. It was a strange feeling that sat within her, a strange soreness. But she enjoyed it.

That physical reminder of the care he had given her the night before.

Each pull of her muscles reminded her of his body over hers, his lips against her skin and–

"Lord," she muttered, laughing at herself and how quickly carried away she was becoming.

"Lady Josephine?"

Josephine almost jumped out of her skin as one of Henry's maids appeared seemingly from the walls, her face a mask of indifference … and her eyes brimming with a million questions Josephine knew she'd be too well-trained to ask. But Josephine's mind could conjure what they were all the same.

And she blushed all the harder for it.

"I was just thinking aloud," Josephine murmured quickly, her heart hammering in her throat as she willed her face to lose some of its heat. "Don't mind me. I only meant to take a turn in the gardens before breakfast."

"I'd be happy to walk with you, My Lady. Or perhaps go and fetch someone? Your mother? His Grace?"

Oh, mercy.

The two names mentioned brought even more heat to her face for entirely separate reasons.

Her mother! Lord, why hadn't she thought about her mother knowing simply upon catching sight of her before that moment? Surely she would.

And the duke …

"Oh no, please do not trouble anyone else." Josephine almost tripped over her words in her haste to dismiss the notion. "It's such a beautiful morning to enjoy one's own company."

"Of course, My Lady," the maid acquiesced without so much as a raised brow. "Do you want me to start some tea or coffee for you?"

Josephine didn't think she would ever get used to the degree of attention that came with the house.

Oh, Lord. Just that fast, her thoughts returned to the night before.

"That would be lovely," Josephine muttered, ducking out the door before she could stick her foot in her mouth or trip over her thoughts or words any further.

Heaven help her. She was going to have to learn how to hide her emotions better. All she could do was worry the whole time.

Would her mother know upon setting eyes on her?

Did the maid already know?

"No one knows," she snapped at herself. If she just willed the silly thoughts away, perhaps she'd stop being so woolly-headed. Heaven knew she needed to get ahold of herself before she ran into anyone else.

Being so distracted with a maid was one thing, but her mother or –

"No one knows what?"

Lord! But if people didn't just quit appearing out of thin air!

"Lady Brisby?"

Josephine's mind caught up with the appearance of the sharp-faced woman only seconds after her mouth did, her brows rising before she could stifle her surprise.

Instinctively, she looked about, expecting to find her husband behind her. Or maybe Henry thundering after her about how she wasn't welcome. After everything that had transpired when Lord Brisby had shown up, she had hardly expected ever to see the woman again, especially not so soon.

But there was no one out there but she and Lady Brisby. Lady Brisby who seemed only angrier at her short preoccupation.

"Is that how you greet a guest?" The woman sniffed, her features creased in irritation. "I suppose we are already rather well acquainted, but really."

Acquainted? Is that what she considered after having attempted to bribe and threaten her?

"My apologies, Lady Brisby. It is only that I did not expect to see you here." In the gardens, alone. Or on the property at all, if she were going to be terribly frank.

Something dark and thunderous passed behind Lady Brisby's eyes, her lips forming a thin, pinched line as all pretence of friendliness fell from her features.

"Of course you didn't," she snapped. "I heard what you did. And while I don't know how you accomplished it, I'm certain you used your feminine wiles to try and convince him to get rid of me the same way you used them to ensnare his attention in the first place."

"My feminine wiles?" Josephine repeated, laughing despite the severity of the accusation.

She couldn't imagine a world where Henry could be convinced so easily or in such a manner.

"Yes," Catherine hissed. "Your feminine wiles. Don't act so innocent! I see you for what you are, whore."

For one insane moment Josephine worried that she did somehow know about the night before. She didn't know how she would or could, but her stomach dropped all the same, her breath catching in her chest.

"See!" Catherine cried gleefully even though the ugliness never left her expression. "I knew it! You cannot fool me, you horrid girl. You have no idea what I have done for Henry, how much of my life I have devoted to looking out for him."

Josephine didn't like how Catherine kept stepping closer, her words becoming more harried and more angry with each new one uttered.

"I don't know," she agreed slowly, trying to diffuse the tension between them. "But I think that you mistake me, Lady Brisby. I've done nothing to hurt His Grace, nor would I."

"Because you love him?" Catherine sneered. She looked Josephine up and down as if the very suggestion was offensive. "You are hardly the first woman to think that she did!"

Josephine could only imagine. Henry was an easy man to love.

"I know that you loved your sister, Lady Brisby–"

"That bitch!" Catherine interrupted her with a grimace.

Everything inside Josephine's brain stuttered to a halt, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to make sense of Lady Brisby's response.

Bitch? Did she mean her? Surely, she must mean her; she couldn't possibly mean Martha.

"She thought she was in love with him too," Catherine snapped, dispelling all confusion in one fell swoop. "My perfect, stupid sister."

Catherine's eyes flashed, fury twisting her features until she looked almost inhuman.

"Martha always got everything she wanted. Dresses, toys, suitors! Our father bent to her every whim and desire. But me? I had to beg for her scraps. With father, with mother, with all of our relatives. Pretty, perfect Martha and her pretty, perfect words. But then I met Lord Brisby, and I knew I had a chance to escape. Do you know how hard I had to work to get him to notice me and not her? How much effort I had to put in to secure his attention?"

"But you won him!" Josephine pointed out, backing away from Catherine's advance until the branches of the bushes behind her pricked the backs of her shoulders. "Lord Brisby fell in love with you; he married you."

And Martha was dead. So Josephine didn't know why it was even a point of contention any longer, no matter what might have happened.

Catherine's sneer grew, her hand disappearing into her dress, and Josephine almost stopped breathing entirely.

Because the glint of silver as she withdrew her hand once more showed just how much it did still matter to Catherine. It mattered enough for her to have brought a knife.

"I won him," Catherine muttered. "Because my sister wanted me to win him. I should have known. Planning all those events that she didn't come to. Planning his introduction to me and our entire courting period. It was too easy. Of course, she allowed it to happen. She had been hiding the duke in her back pocket all along! Hiding him away for herself. Wanting me to marry my silly, simpering husband so that I would be out of the way!"

Josephine only knew a little of that story, but somehow, what she said didn't quite add up.

"She got me off the marriage market just in time," Catherine muttered. "She knew that Henry was meant for me! I was the eldest daughter! He was meant for me."

"But he hadn't met either one of you," Josephine tried to reason, holding one hand up as she tried in vain to back even further away from Catherine. But the bushes stopped her, their gnarled branches poking through the fabric of her dress and scratching her skin.

"That's just what she wanted us to think," Catherine cried. "Do you know how hard it was to watch her suck the life out of him? To ruin him as I wasted away as some insignificant Lord's wife?"

But she was dead.

Josephine fought not to say it, copper tinging her tongue as she bit down hard to hold the words back, her eyes careful to keep that glint of silver in sight.

"I tried to reason with her," Catherine muttered, her nostrils flaring. "Over and over again, I tried to talk to her. And then that day here in the gardens …"

All at once, the pieces fell into place.

The manic look in Catherine's eyes, the way she stalked Josephine, the two big ‘M's: Martha's Murder.

"It was you," Josephine gasped, her eyes flying back up to Catherine's face in shock.

"I tried to reason with her!" Catherine repeated shrilly. "Just as I tried to reason with you! But neither of you left me any choice."

"Catherine!" Josephine's voice came out a half-scream, her hands lifted with her palms out to try and get the woman to see reason.

But it was too late.

She felt the sharp edge of the knife before she realized that Catherine's hand had flown, her breath wheezing out of her along with a scream from its burn.

Catherine's arm lifted, the silver glare marred by a blotch of crimson splatters.

"You left me no choice!"

"Catherine!"

It wasn't Josephine's voice that time.

She staggered forward as Catherine was pulled away, her screams turning into that of madness as two footmen ran to detain her. Flailing in their grasp, she succumbed to hysteria, and it was all Josephine could do to tear her eyes away as she fell forward onto her knees.

She looked down, the ground swimming before her, the red she could see making her stomach churn.

"Josephine!"

Henry's voice fell in her ear as he knelt in front of her, stopping her from pitching fully forward onto the ground.

"I need a doctor!" Henry shouted. "A constable!"

His hands were impossibly gentle as he swept her off her knees, pulling her into his arms as her eyes fluttered to a close, and a welcome darkness blotted out the whole horrid scene.