by Karen Ranney
“I’ll talk to her,” she said again.
She closed the door after Amy, wishing she felt more optimistic about the outcome of any discussion with her sister.
Jordan tolerated the agony for two hours. Two hours in which he paced the library, called for more heated bricks, and cursed himself for not moving more during the day. During those one hundred twenty minutes he ignored the siren call of the drug.
He sat in the chair staring up at the dome above the second floor noting the small cracks he’d been measuring for a year now. He’d have to find the money from somewhere to repair the dome before it crashed in and destroyed the library.
Perhaps he could sell some of the books surrounding him, volumes clad in leather with gilt lettering, pounds and pounds of books purchased by his grandfather and chosen for their colors more than their contents. The bottom tier was scarlet leather, topped by a sea green. On the upper floors the books were blue.
He couldn’t attest to the fact, but he suspected most of them had never been opened. Despite the sheer number of books, he found Sedgebrook’s library lacking in what he needed. But, then, he wanted to read about the latest advancements in science. No one had purchased a new book for the Hamilton library in years.
The curved iron staircase captured his attention for a while. He made note of the intricate ironwork connecting the railing, tracing the pattern from the base to the top of the twenty-seven steps.
At the end of the two hours, he reached into the bottom desk drawer and uncorked one of the three bottles of the elixir he’d secreted around Sedgebrook. The second was in the boathouse and the third in his bedroom.
He drank two swallows, knowing it would be enough to numb the pain and dull his wits. In a few minutes it would begin to take effect, giving him enough time to laboriously make his way up the stairs to his room where he would surrender to the elixir and lose himself.
Chapter 16
Josephine crept out of her room, closing the door softly behind her.
“Beauty is a key.” A comment Maman had often made. “It can unlock many doors, but you must be wise and choose exactly the right door.”
She had every intention of doing exactly that.
There wasn’t a footman at the end of the corridor, thank heavens, only a sconce flickering in greeting. She headed in the opposite direction. Her slippers were soundless against the carpet runner. Her grandmother had selected the thick cotton nightgown with its matching wrapper, both garments staid and old-fashioned. Once she was inside the duke’s suite, she had no intention of wearing either.
A light in the foyer below sent shadows around the base of the stairs. Everything was silent but in her mind she heard the laughter of future guests.
She could see herself at Sedgebrook as the Duchess of Roth. When they entertained, which would be often, she would make a grand entrance. Here, exactly on this spot, above the stairs, she would wait until people congregated in the foyer below. Slowly, with great presence, she would descend the steps, smiling graciously. Everyone would look up and whisper about her.
Isn’t she magnificent? Oh, my dear, she’s the most beautiful duchess of them all. Sedgebrook is the perfect place for someone of her beauty.
She could feel their admiration as she hesitated on the bottom step, allowing them to come to her one by one. She’d nod and greet each person with grace and poise. For days they would talk about this moment, how they felt when first viewing her, how they couldn’t forget the sight of her. They’d yearn for another invitation to Sedgebrook, if only to see her.
Smiling, she turned and walked to the family corridor. No one was awake. She was alone, as if she owned the great house and was privy to all its secrets.
Reese had to hand it to her, Josephine had nerve. How was she going to explain her presence in Jordan’s room? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let her get that far.
She’d miscalculated and had worn something light. She looked like a ghost in the corridor, someone who might spark rumors of yet another haunting in the old house. He’d heard at least six stories since his first visit to Sedgebrook. He had deliberately cultivated friendships among the servants and now they felt free to tell him anything, from ghost stories to who was sleeping with whom and who wanted to work in London.
You never knew when a servant would come in handy. Plus, they were often the source of vital information such as timetables and habits.
Because of Jordan’s money troubles, there weren’t many footmen at Sedgebrook. Otherwise, there would have been a few stationed at intervals throughout the house, especially at night. Their presence would have prevented Josephine from carrying out her intentions.
He was going to have to be the one to stop her.
She was a voluptuous creature and a gorgeous one. Of course, she knew her advantages and didn’t hesitate to use her beauty when it was necessary. He couldn’t fault her, since he occasionally utilized his own good looks. If he could charm a woman into giving him something he needed, thereby saving time and effort, all the better. Besides, violence had repercussions he disliked.
As a longtime friend, he’d been given a room not far from the ducal suite. Reese waited until Josephine was level to his door before grabbing her elbow with one hand. Except for a startled exclamation, she didn’t make a sound as he pulled her into his room and closed the door behind him.
“Can’t sleep, Miss York?”
“You scared me,” she said, her hand at her throat.
“For a moment I thought you might be sleepwalking, since you’re so far away from your room.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
“And you thought to take a constitutional?”
“I might ask the same of you, Mr. Burthren.”
“Reese, please,” he said, his amusement surfacing. “It’s after midnight. We’re alone. You’re in your nightclothes. It’s not exactly a proper time or place, is it, Josephine?”
She took a step sideways, intending to slip by him, but he matched her movement.
Momentarily defeated, she looked up at him and smiled charmingly. He didn’t doubt she’d practiced the expression in the mirror.
“What are you doing awake, Reese?” she asked softly. “You can’t sleep, either? Why, a guilty conscience?”
He bent his head until he was close enough to kiss her cheek.
“It’s no good, Josephine. You won’t trap him this way.”
Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed at him. He didn’t move.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“I’m sure that sweet and innocent look fools some people, but I’m not one of them.”
“You’re a truly despicable human being,” she said.
“Ah, but I’m not the one haunting Sedgebrook, hoping to catch our host in a compromising position. Or are you going to pretend you weren’t doing exactly that?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “You’re wasting your time, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jordan has other things on his mind than a flirtation.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Whereas I’m in the mood for a flirtation. Perhaps even more.”
“Step aside, Mr. Burthren.”
“Reese,” he said.
“Step aside, Mr. Burthren.”
“Reese,” he repeated. “I’d like to hear my name on your lips.”
“Reese,” she said, accentuating the sibilant sound until it sounded something like a snake.
He admired a fiery woman.
“Reese,” he said, stopping her from heading for the door by the simple act of pulling her into his arms.
He thought he might pass along a ghost story of his own, a tale of an outraged virgin. Or perhaps he would change it slightly since he was now almost certain Josephine was no longer a virgin. Perhaps he’d make her an avenging succubus roaming through Sedgebrook, intent on trapping men.
She’d let her hair down and it fell
over her shoulders in dark waves. He wanted to thrust his hands into it. Her cheeks were pink, the color deepening as he studied her.
She stood there quivering with righteous indignation, biting her lip, and glaring up at him.
Damn, but he wanted to kiss her.
Before she had a chance to guess what was on his mind, he did just that.
Her mouth opened in surprise beneath his. He smiled when her outraged gasp turned into warm, softening lips.
She allowed the kiss to last a few long, enjoyable moments before placing her hands flat on his chest and pushing him away.
“How dare you!”
“Quite easily,” he said, fingering the bow at her waist.
What a proper robe she was wearing. It was cinched tightly, as if to protect the nearly naked figure beneath. He pulled at the end of the belt and the robe fell open, revealing a proper cotton nightgown.
She grabbed the edges of the robe and held them together.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Seducing you, I think,” he said. “I hadn’t intended to, but you are proving to be nearly irresistible.”
Two tears fell down those beautiful cheeks of hers. She blinked up at him, her blue eyes deep with emotion.
“How could you treat me so horribly?”
He couldn’t help but smile.
She was truly a magnificent actress.
“What did you think you were going to do, Josephine? Tell Jordan that same idiotic tale about not being able to sleep? Did you think to seduce him?”
She took a step back from him. Doing so put her close to his bed. He could reach out with one hand and push her gently onto the mattress.
“Afterward, you were going to do what? Scream in terror or do something to attract attention? Did you think being found in his bed would be enough for him to offer marriage?”
“You’re insane,” she said.
Her tears had dried up fast enough. She wasn’t the pitiful virgin right now. He suspected the frown she was giving him was closer to her true nature.
“I’m leaving, right now,” she said.
“Are you? Do you think I’m going to let you do what you’d planned?”
“Why shouldn’t you? It’s none of your concern.”
He should have expected her arrogance. This woman was not going to be embarrassed or humiliated. Instead, she faced him down, almost daring him to do something.
He never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her, right this moment.
He smiled. “Oh, but it is. Jordan is my friend. He deserves better than your little games.”
“Who do you think you are?” she asked, contempt dripping from every word. “The morals judge?”
He took a step toward her, until he was only inches away.
“No,” he said. “I’m your lover.”
She tilted her head back and stared up at him. “It’s my decision who I take to my bed,” she said, “and I don’t choose you.”
“Ah, but you have, by coming into my room and not making a sound.”
He guessed her smile took a great deal of effort, but she somehow managed it.
“If you’d made it to Jordan’s room you would have discovered that he wasn’t there.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Do you think I’m going to tell you? I wouldn’t put it past you to wander through Sedgebrook looking for him. Better you should practice your seduction talents with me.”
“I don’t need any practice.”
He pushed at her shoulders. The expression as she landed on the mattress was one he would always remember.
“Oh, I think you do,” he said, joining her.
Chapter 17
Martha slipped outside her room, closing the door softly behind her. She stood there for a moment before crossing the hall and knocking softly on her sister’s door.
When Josephine didn’t answer she knocked again. When there was still no response, she grabbed the door handle and entered the room. The lamp was burning on the bedside table, but Josephine wasn’t there.
In the time she was talking to Amy, Josephine had evidently put her plan into action.
Now what did she do? Dear God, what? She’d never been the type to panic, but she was cold with fear.
Had Josephine gone to the duke’s suite?
She had to stop her.
She hadn’t explored Sedgebrook like Josephine. She reasoned, however, that Jordan’s suite would be among the larger bedchambers in the house, which meant they’d be at the end of the wing. There was no room at the end of this corridor, so she kept walking. Thankfully, she didn’t encounter any servants as she passed the staircase and entered the other wing, coming to a set of double doors.
She tapped on the right door, but no one answered.
Her sister had behaved with forethought, determination, and cunning. But she doubted Josephine would be punished for this act or anything else. People like her sister never were. Instead, they were given excuses, their bad behavior accepted or brushed away.
As she waited, her fear turned to anger. She couldn’t help but recall all those moments when Josephine had gotten away with something egregious. The excuses ran the gamut: It’s because she’s so much younger than you, Martha. It’s because Matthew rarely notices her. It’s because she’s half-French. It’s because she has a less serious nature.
What excuse would people give for Josephine’s behavior tonight? She couldn’t imagine one that made any sense, other than: It’s because Josephine was greedy. It’s because Josephine saw something she wanted and she went after it.
At another time, in another circumstance, she might have admired her sister’s single-minded determination, but not now.
The duke wouldn’t marry her; she knew that. Regardless of Josephine’s behavior, it wouldn’t result in her becoming the Duchess of Roth. Instead, her actions were certain to ruin her and cause gossip to swirl around the family.
Her stomach felt as if it was twisted in knots. Another emotion to lay at Josephine’s feet. She didn’t know if she was more afraid than she was angry or more angry than afraid.
She knocked again, her stomach churning.
Dear God, please help me do this.
Would God understand? Would He send a lightning bolt to strike them both, the sinning sister and the one who wanted to sin? What was worse? To feel envy? Or be bubbling with resentment against Josephine?
What was she going to say when the duke answered the door?
Is my sister here?
Have you seduced her yet?
She prayed the right words would come to her when he opened the door.
Except he didn’t.
Finally, she pushed down on the latch and entered the duke’s suite.
The sitting room was illuminated by a gas lamp and, like the guest chambers, was adorned with a mural. This one took up the whole of the far wall and portrayed scenes of Rome she recognized from stereoscope pictures of the city.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
Please, don’t let them be in the bedroom, so occupied in their actions they didn’t hear her. Could anything be worse than that?
Taking a few steps toward the closed door, she wondered if it was wise to continue. Wondering, too, in a self-examination proving to be acutely painful, if she was here because of sisterly loyalty or womanly jealousy.
It might be a little of both.
She crossed the room until she stood in front of the door. She was trembling as she gripped the handle. A moment later she drew back her hand, her heart pounding so loudly she thought anyone on the other side of the door could hear it.
She said a prayer, not unlike the ones she’d uttered earlier. Please, don’t let her be here. She was nearly sick to her stomach when she grabbed the handle again and made herself open the door.
The room was dark.
She didn’t advance, merely stood in the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
No
one demanded she leave. No stern ducal voice questioned her presence.
The relief she felt at the sight of the empty bed, turned down for the night, was so overwhelming she was nearly faint.
Josephine wasn’t here. Neither was the duke. She needn’t explain anything. She didn’t need to save Josephine. Thoughts she had for the expanse of only a few seconds, no more than that. The sound of a door opening sent her catapulting back into panic.
She didn’t think, only reacted. She pulled the door closed and slipped behind a screen concealing the door to the bathing chamber, nearly tripping on a metal plant holder.
If Josephine wasn’t with the duke, she would announce her presence and explain she had gotten lost. An idiotic excuse, but the only thing that came to mind.
At the moment, she wasn’t thinking at all. She was only feeling. Terror, panic, regret, embarrassment, shame—they were all cascading through her.
Her heart was beating fiercely, her pulse racing. She could barely breathe. It wasn’t going to be Josephine who made a laughingstock of the family. It was her. Rock-steady Martha, practical Martha, boring Martha who would rather study plans and calculate measurements than do anything shocking or untoward.
Perhaps one day she’d be exciting. Perhaps she’d shock everyone who knew her by doing something entirely unlike her.
Not tonight, however. Please God, not now.
The ceiling shifted above him as Jordan made his way down the corridor to the staircase. Halfway up the long stretch of steps, the whole of the foyer abruptly altered position, causing him to grip the banister to keep from falling.
Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to take the grand staircase after all, but he didn’t want to use the servants’ stairs since so many of them were making for their beds. He didn’t want to be seen weaving like a drunkard.
The elixir had hit him hard tonight. No doubt a result of the wine he’d had in the library while waiting for the bricks to work. What a fool he’d been for combining the two.
