Loving the Wrong Lord

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Josie laughed into Phin’s chest. “You forgot she was here? How does one forget a relative?”

  “If she sleeps all day and doesn’t leave her chambers? Rather easily, actually.” He was smiling now. She could hear it in his voice. “So, my lady, will you remain here for the rest of the house party? Or do you still wish to depart?”

  She should leave. Logic dictated that she return directly to the manor house, have a maid collect her things, and be on her way back to London before luncheon. Though if she left? She would never have this – whatever it was – with Phin. She would make a loveless but proper match and live out her days wondering what might have been.

  Josie didn’t want that. This was her one and only chance to find out what passion with a man whose company she enjoyed could be like before that lonely future became her truth.

  “I will stay.” Josie had made her decision. Well, actually, there had been no decision to make. Not really.

  “Excellent. So long as you are certain because once we begin this dance, Josie? There is no going back.”

  “I know.”

  Josie’s words were all of the invitation Phin needed.

  His breath was hot on her neck where he had begun to nuzzle her. Around her, she could smell the flowers, clean air, and sunshine. She could smell the horses and hear the birdsong. She felt the sun beating down on her back, warming her even though cool air tinged her cheeks.

  The world around her was alive, and for the first time in many years, Josie wanted to feel alive as well. She would deal with the consequences – and there would be consequences – when they arrived at her doorstep. But not before. Not now. Now? There was only Phin.

  “I am certain about this. I want you, Phin. More than I can say,” Josie whispered before she took the bold step and raised herself up on tiptoe to kiss him first. Before he could kiss her. “I have never been more certain of anything. I am yours for the duration of the house party.”

  And in her heart, she knew that was the truth.

  Chapter Eight

  “Has anyone seen our hostess? What sort of house party is this when our host and hostess continually keep disappearing? Why would one schedule an afternoon tea if they were not planning to be present to host the event? Really! What sort of heathens do such a thing?”

  From her corner of the blue parlor, Josie’s eyes strayed to where Lady Margaretta and her mother, Lady Temins, were perched rather precariously on the edge of a settee. Together, they were glaring at every other young lady in the parlor as they waited for Lady Cilla to appear – assuming she ever did – but everyone knew that both women were really waiting for the duke.

  After all, several times last evening, Lady Margaretta had stated to anyone who would listen that she hoped to leave the house party as a duchess and would settle for nothing less than a wedding on Havenhurst’s grounds.

  When Josie and Phin and returned from their early morning ride, it was Cilla who had greeted them in the stable yard and quickly shooed them inside via the servant’s entrance so they would not be seen from inside the manor house. According to Phin’s sister, Lady Margaretta and her mother had been stalking the halls of Havenhurst since just after dawn, likely hoping to “encounter” Phin in the hallways and, quite probably, trap him into marriage at their earliest convenience. Especially when it was noted that Lady Margaretta was wearing a gown more suited to an evening ball than breaking one’s fast during the early morning hours.

  To her credit, Cilla’s face had flamed red when Phin had reminded his sister that she had been the one to insist that the chit and her mother were included on the guestlist – not because they were truly wanted there, but simply because they lived in the area and it would be seen as a slight if they weren’t invited.

  Brother and sister looked about to argue the point (something that Griggs, one of the grooms assured Josie they did frequently) when Lord Snowly had arrived, requesting that his horse be saddled for a morning ride. At the other man’s appearance, Cilla’s mouth had twitched in what might have been either anger or pleasure, and she had offered to ride out with the earl as she was in the mood to take in some fresh air.

  Josie had assumed that Phin would put a stop to such a thing. Just because he was behaving improperly by being alone with a female guest didn’t mean he would tolerate the same behavior in his sister. Apparently, he did, however, for he sent both his Cilla and Snowly off with a tip of his hat before brushing a quick kiss over Josie’s cheek and whispering that he would see her later.

  That had been many hours ago now, and Josie hadn’t seen Phin since. Or Cilla. Apparently, nobody in the Trew household had seen the siblings, for as the servants continued to bring in tea tray after tea tray in order to keep the guests occupied, Josie watched them cast worried glances out the windows and hoped that no one noticed.

  Most of the ladies present probably wouldn’t notice, Josie surmised, for they were too busy watching the doorway for Cilla to appear – or, more likely – Phin himself. But Josie noticed. As did the Kerns women.

  “They won’t be back, you know. Not until at least it is time to dress for supper, I would imagine.” Josie did her best not to act too surprised when Lady Tabitha leaned down and whispered in Josie’s ear under the guise of picking up a tea cake. “Then again, with everyone at this house party staking them as if they are the foxes in a hunt? I don’t think I’d return either.”

  Josie nearly choked on her tea at that comment. The daughter of the Duke of Averill, Lady Tabitha Maxwell, was well-known for her fear of men. Or rather, supposed fear of men because from what Josie had seen over the last few weeks back in London, while the woman was careful around men, she was not terrified of the male of the species in general. Watchful might be a better word, actually.

  Apparently, Lady Tabitha also had something of a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue.

  “My lady?” Somehow, Josie managed to swallow the last of her tea without spitting it out. Had she done so, at the very least, that would have given the assembled guests something to talk about.

  “Pish. Call me Tabby.” She rolled her eyes. “Lady Tabitha, if you must.”

  “Tabby, you may call me Josie.”

  The other woman’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “I think I shall like you, Josie. Thank you.” She raised her teacup and used it to hide the fact that she now pointed discreetly in the direction of Lady Temins and her daughter. “As I was saying, if those two title-graspers are here, I sincerely doubt that Lord Fullbridge will return. The last thing he would wish is to be trapped with that harpy for a wife.”

  Josie chuckled. “At Lady Darby’s ball, he hid from her in a window seat on the second mezzanine of the library.”

  “And how would you know that?” Tabby’s gaze was far too knowing for Josie’s comfort.

  “I, ah, hear rumors?”

  “Or you were the lady he was hiding with at the time. Everyone knows he was in there with a woman, but no one can figure out who she was.” Tabby winked at her. “Very well done, Josie.”

  Was everyone in London mad? This woman should think such a thing a scandal! She shouldn’t be congratulating Josie on being alone with a gentleman!

  “I, er, don’t think…”

  “That being caught out with Phin Trew is a good idea, considering the gossip?” Tabby’s eyes danced merrily.

  “Something like that,” Josie finished weakly.

  The discordant sounds of a pianoforte could now be heard coming from the direction of the cream parlor. Or perhaps it was the rose parlor instead. As Josie had quickly learned, the walls of Havenhurst could be opened so that one parlor flowed into another, making what was normally a small and intimate space a much larger one if the guest list warranted.

  At some point earlier today, the walls had been opened and now what had once been four separate rooms was now one enormous space – and one of those parlors apparently had both an instrument and a young lady of little skill but great enthusiasm who was attempting to pass the
time by playing a tune or two for everyone.

  “That sound. Miss Forsythe knows better than to play for a crowd.” That comment was the first that Miss Hadley, who was seated opposite Josie, had uttered all day, but then, most of the guests hadn’t seen Miss Hadley for the better part of the day. Supposedly she was ill. Privately, Josie suspected that if she was feeling under the weather, it was because she was lovesick for the Earl of Warwick. Josie had come to learn that those two had a deeper connection than most people realized.

  “Perhaps Lady Priscilla is ill.” That explanation was offered up by a young woman clad in pale green that had been pacing the far side of the room near a window for the last quarter-hour. Josie thought her name might be Lady Alice Barkley, daughter of the Earl of Hamden.

  “Or she is simply sick of a house full of young women attempting to trap her bother into marriage. I certainly used to feel that way when it was Lachlan.” That comment came from a flame-haired young woman who didn’t seem as if she was entirely comfortable either sitting still or being surrounded by all of these other women.

  Though Josie had not been properly introduced to the young woman, she thought she had heard someone mention that the young woman was Lady Grier McKenna, sister of the current Marquess of Hallstone, and had just made her come-out this year. That would explain her comment, since the Scottish marquess had been chased through London with great enthusiasm by quite a few young women when he’d been on the Marriage Mart, including his late father’s widow.

  Across the room, Lady Margaretta let out a great, heaving sigh and all but swooned over onto her side, as if the waiting was somehow killing her. “This is simply unbearable! How can we tolerate such things? I fear I shall simply sink into a depression if our hostess does not show herself and attend to her guests soon!”

  Next to Josie, Tabby let out an indelicate snort.

  “Queen of the dramatic stage, one should call her. If she did go into a depression so deep that she was confined to her chambers, that might do us all a great favor,” the other woman sniffed before turning back to Josie. “Now, as I was saying, I was at Lady Chillton’s ball that night when things took such a wrong turn for you after your father appeared. I am a close friend of Lord Chillton’s sister, Lady Dory. Therefore, I know secrets worth keeping. I am also excellent at keeping them. Especially for those who are my friends. I would never betray them.”

  It was clear that Tabby was speaking of Lady Dory Tillsbury – now Lady Wyncliffe – and the scandal that had surrounded her in recent weeks. Scandal that rivaled what Josie had endured.

  All of London knew of Lady Dory and the debate about whether or not she was the real Lady Peacock who had been spotted in a scandalous gown at the Dionysus gaming hell owed by the occasionally-disreputable Lord Jeremy Dunn who had recently been named the new Duke of Wyncliffe. The couple had also run off to Gretna Green recently, adding more fuel to the proverbial fire.

  Here was a woman who most likely knew the truth of that whole, scandalous affair, and yet Josie had never heard her utter a word about any of it. Meaning she could probably be trusted with Josie’s secrets as well.

  “I was with Phin. Er, I mean Lord Fullbridge that night. It was an accident, however.” Josie chewed on her lip, considering how much she should reveal. “I was, er, hiding.”

  Tabby nodded in the direction of Lady Margaretta, who was now lying prone on a fainting couch, her mother hovering over her with a fan and a bevy of maids swarming about.

  “Come.” Lady Tabby rose, and Josie followed suit. “This room of madness is not the place for this discussion, and unless I am wrong – and I never am about these things – Lady Cilla will miss tea time. She is probably occupied with either Lord Cleary or, preferably, Lord Snowly.”

  Josie didn’t know what to say to that, for what could she say, really? Instead, she nodded to Lady Tabitha, indicating that the other woman should lead the way.

  Together the two ladies made their way out of the stuffy parlor, leaving the now-wailing Lady Margaretta and the discordant sound of the pianoforte behind.

  “Thank goodness!” Tabby exclaimed when they reached the hallway. “That woman can wail and carry on all day if she’s of the mind. Not to mention that horrid music. Miss Hadley was correct. Miss Forsythe does, indeed, know she should not play for a crowd.”

  Josie laughed, and this time, it was less of a polite laugh and more of her normal, hearty chuckle. “How do you know all of these things?”

  Tabby winked at her. “It is easy to learn quite a bit about the goings-on in London if you are considered invisible. Or too afraid of everyone to pay them attention in return.”

  Josie recalled the rumors she had heard about this woman. “But you aren’t really afraid? Of gentlemen, I mean?” This woman didn’t seem to be, at any rate.

  “I am…careful,” Tabby replied, “and with good reason. But terrified? Not in the least. It does, however, make my life a great deal easier if most people assume that I am. They tend to leave me in peace, which is what I prefer.” She paused, clearly gathering her thoughts. “Now back to Lord Fullbridge…”

  “As I said, our hiding together was an accident.” For a moment, Josie tried to decide how much to trust this woman. She knew very little about her. Except that she had kept Lady Dory’s and Lord Dunn’s secrets at a time when revealing them might have brought her a great deal of attention. She hadn’t. Instead, she had held fast to the bond of friendship and refused to betray either of them. “If you were at Lady Chillton’s that night, you know the story of my father and, well, me, by default.”

  Tabby nodded and gestured toward the side portico, one that led to a lovely rose garden. “Most people do. So, I am to gather that it is the truth?”

  Josie’s lips twitched. “It is.” This next part was difficult to admit. “In truth? Lord Fullbridge should hate me, and yet he does not. He had a chance to destroy me, and he chose not to do so. You see, that night at Lady Darby’s, I was hiding.”

  “From suitors,” Tabby supplied as if she already knew that part. Perhaps she did. Perhaps all of London did, for all Josie knew. “It is well known throughout the ton that Lord and Lady Radcliffe are attempting to secure a match for you.”

  “I am a burden,” Josie confessed, lifting her face to the sun as she walked. Since they had been inside and not planning to go out, she didn’t have a bonnet, but she didn’t care as she rarely wore one while out of doors back in Cumbria either. “My father is dead. At whose hands, I do not know. Nor do I care, horrible as that sounds. I know nothing about the new Earl of Telford, other than that he might wish to marry me if I suit his needs. Other than that, however, I have no prospects. None. After all, I have spent nearly all of my life in exile in Cumbria. Therefore, something must be done with me.”

  “And, of course, the lot of all Society women is to wed and wed as well as possible.” There was something in Tabby’s voice that hinted that she might not share that viewpoint, just as Josie did not. “Therefore, everyone is doing their best to find you a match.” She paused to finger a fragile, pink rose – one of the first of the spring season. “Except that you don’t care for the gentlemen they are presenting to you. You prefer Lord Fullbridge.”

  Josie was quick with her reply. “I shouldn’t. There is too much scandal between us. My father wished to see him either ruined or dead, and probably would have preferred dead if he could have managed it.”

  Tabby chuckled. “And yet you are drawn to him in a way that you are not with the other men who have been paraded before you.”

  “Yes, and I am a fool.” Josie knew that she was.

  Tabby tapped her chin in thoughtful contemplation. “Or perhaps you are simply a woman who knows what she desires.” She nodded in the direction of the manor house. “Those chits in there? Some of them are lovely young women, but most are silly little girls, hoping a duke will swoop in and save them from a boring marriage. You are older, if not in years, then in experience. Wiser. Your heart knows what it wants a
nd what it does not.”

  Did it? Did her heart want Phin? Her body certainly did, and after this morning’s kiss, Josie was quite certain he desired her as well.

  “It is complicated,” Josie finally offered.

  Tabby offered her a knowing smile. “The best things in life often are.”

  Movement at the far edge of the garden caught Josie’s eye at the same time it did Tabby’s and the two women watched as Lady Priscilla and the Earl of Snowly hurried away from the far side of the rose garden, sneaking glances around as if they were afraid of being spotted.

  Cilla carried a large bouquet of flowers, and Snowly appeared to be grasping a basket of some sort.

  “Clandestine meeting?” Josie wondered aloud.

  “More likely a clandestine affair.” Tabby inclined her head. “However, that means this afternoon’s tea is probably cancelled. Though I am not certain anyone told the other young ladies.”

  Though Josie hated the thought of returning inside, especially on such a lovely day, she knew that would be the proper thing to do, especially since there were parlors full of young ladies waiting for Lady Priscilla to preside over the tea.

  “Whom should we speak to about this?” Once more, Josie worried her lip between her teeth. “I still do not have a chaperone, at least not one that I have seen as of yet, and I am not quite certain of the rules at a house party.” She blushed a little. “This is my first one, after all.”

  Tabby winked at her. “Well, in my opinion, the first rule is that there are no rules. Well, there are rules, but no one pays any attention to them. So long as you are not caught out with your skirts up? There is never any real harm done, and any gossip generated can be blamed on mistaken identity. After all, according to most, all debutantes look rather alike. All those pale-colored frocks and whatnot.”