by Karen Ranney
She clutched her arms to her chest, bit her lip, and didn’t try to stop the tears from flowing. A moment later, overcome, she flung her arms outward as if wanting to embrace the whole world at that moment. Exhilaration filled her even as she wept. Tears mixed with her laughter.
She did it!
Despite his irritation at Josephine’s words, Jordan discovered she was right; it was some distance to the cottage. By the time he reached it he was limping badly, twinges in his leg warning him he’d overdone it. Any discomfort, however, was forgotten when he caught sight of Martha at the end of the nearby dock.
Her arms were flung out, her skirts belling around her as she twirled like a child. Her hair was a cloud around her head as she laughed.
Beyond her was a boy standing in a rowboat holding a ship resembling Bessie.
Jordan reached the dock, getting halfway to the end before she noticed him. Then she surprised him by picking up her skirts in both hands and racing to him.
“It works!” she said, her voice bubbling with joy. “Jordan, it works. It hit the target. It works!”
She nearly knocked him over in her enthusiasm. He steadied himself by reaching around her waist with one arm and holding her tight.
“Oh, Jordan,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at him, “it works!”
He was immediately bombarded by two emotions: excitement that she’d figured out the problem and disappointment that he hadn’t been the one to do so.
He wanted to ask what she’d done. He almost formed the words before they simply vanished. Her smile captivated him. Staring down into her warm brown eyes, he found himself lost in her happiness.
Her hands flattened against his chest, then crept up to his shoulders as the smile melted from her face.
Moving closer, he bent his head, his gaze never leaving hers. The bright glow of excitement on her face faded as did every caution in his mind. All he knew was that he had to kiss her. It was as vital as drawing breath, drinking water, something elemental to life itself.
Her lips were soft. She gasped as she opened her mouth to him. He wished he had two free hands to embrace her, but one was still holding on to his walking stick to retain his balance. The other pressed against her back, bringing her forward.
He could feel the shape of her long legs through the thin dress she wore. Her breasts pressed above her corset. He knew her body, the curve of her waist measured by his thumb, the indentation of her back where his palm pressed.
She smelled of copper, a distinctive metal tang, sunlight, and water. All scents so normal to him that she could have been an extension of himself. But she wasn’t. She was all woman, irresistible and soft. His hand relinquished its possession of her waist to rest on the edge of her jaw, his thumb stroking the delicacy of her heated cheek.
He moved his head slightly, took command of her mouth, his tongue darting in to taste her. She sighed and the sound speared through him, making him feel as if he was the conqueror and she the vanquished.
He wanted her.
He knew her in a way he didn’t understand but had to accept at this moment.
Reason left him.
He wanted her in his bed, her body bowing beneath his, her screams of joy silenced by his lips on hers. His hand speared into her hair, feeling the softness of the curls winding around his fingers. This, too, was something familiar to him.
Slowly he pulled back, his body screaming at him to continue this seduction.
Her lips were pink. Her eyes were dazed, the feathery lashes revealing them reluctantly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, just above her perfect nose. He tried to calm his breathing, all the while lecturing himself to step back, away.
“How charming. One would think, looking at the two of you, that you were the ones to be married.”
He dropped his hand, turned, and faced Josephine standing a few feet away. He hadn’t heard her approach, but then he hadn’t been paying attention to anything but Martha.
Words failed him. Not one excuse came to mind to explain his behavior. Not only did he owe Josephine an apology, a fact that irritated him, but he should also say something to Martha.
Before he could speak, Martha picked up her skirts and moved around him, brushing past Josephine without a word.
Chapter 28
Martha had successfully avoided her sister in the past weeks, but there was no chance of escaping Josephine now. There was going to be a confrontation. Martha just didn’t want it to take place in public.
Josephine followed her all the way back to the house.
She made it to her room, but she didn’t even get a chance to close the door. Josephine grabbed it, slammed it shut, and rounded on her.
“How dare you! He’s going to be my husband. Mine!”
Given that nothing occurred to her as an acceptable answer, Martha remained silent. Josephine was right. She shouldn’t have kissed Jordan. It didn’t seem fair, however, that her sister now had a reason to be justifiably angry when Josephine had been underhanded and devious from the beginning.
She took a few steps back, erring on the side of caution. Josephine looked angry enough to strike her. Her cheeks were florid, her mouth twisted. Her eyes were narrowed and filled with rage.
“Why were you kissing him?”
Because she lost her mind around Jordan. She lost all thought of who she was, the circumstances, the day, the witnesses, everything. On the dock all she’d been feeling was an exhilarating joy.
It felt right and proper that he was there to celebrate with her. The kiss was just a natural extension of her mood.
How, though, did she explain that to Josephine?
Could she say that the moment felt special and worthy of a grand gesture? Or that she was moved to tears by being able to replicate their father’s success?
“It just happened,” she said, walking to the window.
The view was of the lake, but from here she couldn’t see the dock. She would never tell Josephine it would remain a special place for her, the location where she realized what she felt for the Duke of Roth was more than friendship.
She loved him. An emotion she’d never thought to have, a feeling now forbidden.
First, she’d been curious about Jordan. Then, a little envious of her father’s praise of him. Later, as she’d read his letters, she began to admire his mind. Finally, she got a sense of the man himself not only from the words he wrote but those things he carefully left unsaid. By the time she arrived at Sedgebrook she was already interested in him. Sparring with him, challenging him, being near him had somehow pushed her the rest of the way.
None of which she’d confess to Josephine.
I love him. I love him. The words ached to be said. She’d never utter them. Not to Josephine. Never to Jordan.
“I was just excited I made the Goldfish work,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder at Josephine. “You’ll be glad to know I found what Father had discovered.”
Josephine’s lips twisted. “I don’t care about those ships, Martha. I want you to leave Jordan alone. He’s mine.”
“Why pretend you feel something for him?” Martha asked, turning. “We both know you don’t. The only allure Jordan has for you is the fact he’s the Duke of Roth and he owns Sedgebrook. If he were still a naval officer, you wouldn’t notice him. Oh, you might glance at him long enough to ridicule him, but you certainly wouldn’t contemplate marriage.”
“But he isn’t a naval officer, is he? He’s a duke. He’s my duke. Just remember it.”
“You would do anything to become a duchess, wouldn’t you?”
Josephine’s smile was unnerving, the expression of a woman much older than she was, someone skilled in manipulation and deceit.
“Yes, Martha, I would do anything. I’d be a fool not to.”
“What did you tell Gran to make her believe it was you?” A question she’d never asked of her sister but one she considered every single day.
“I just confessed to being in the duk
e’s bed.”
She could just imagine the scene. Josephine weeping with remorse, her grandmother aghast yet pragmatic.
“You weren’t.”
“You and I know what happened, Martha, but no one else does. You should thank me. Because of me, your reputation remains unsullied. You can go on to become a spinster and no one will know the duke took your virginity.
“Leave him alone,” Josephine continued. “I don’t even want you in the same room with him. In a matter of days I’m going to be the Duchess of Roth and you’re not going to ruin it.”
Martha stared at her sister as she left the room. She shouldn’t have kissed Jordan, but she couldn’t summon any regret. Not when it would be the last time.
Was this how it felt when your heart broke?
“No doubt Marie is finding some excuse not to attend the wedding,” Mrs. York said, frowning at the envelope before giving it to Amy to take to Josephine. “She is probably overjoyed that her daughter is marrying a duke, but envious at the same time. Marie does not handle envy well.”
Amy didn’t say anything, but then she normally remained silent. Mrs. York didn’t require agreement with her comments, only discretion. However, in this instance, she thought the older woman was right.
Marie York was not the right example for any young girl. The woman disregarded propriety, acted on impulse, and did what she wished most of the time.
Unfortunately, Josephine was taking after her mother. Look how she’d caught a duke for herself by acting in a shocking manner.
Taking the letter, she went in search of Josephine, only to see her marching back to Sedgebrook after her sister, an expression on her face that warned Amy now might not be the best time to encounter the girl. Perhaps she’d just leave the letter in Josephine’s room.
A task she had every intention of fulfilling except for the sound of raised voices coming from Martha’s room.
Amy listened, torn between her better nature decreeing such a thing was wrong and an overriding curiosity. What she heard both horrified her and explained so many things. Why Martha’s demeanor had changed since their visit at Sedgebrook. Why the girl was quiet all the time and looked to be miserable, especially when the upcoming marriage was mentioned.
Josephine loved being the center of attention, so the ceremony was always the prevailing topic of conversation.
What she didn’t understand was how the duke had been fooled.
She opened the door to Josephine’s room, dropped the letter on the bureau, and was leaving when Josephine stormed across the hall.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve left a letter from your mother,” Amy said, pointing to the bureau.
Josephine didn’t say a word, just slammed the door in her face.
Amy headed for the Summer Parlor and Mrs. York.
Susan York stared at her maid, words failing her.
“Tell me what you heard again,” she said, her fingers massaging her throat, the better to urge the words up from the block of ice that had become her chest.
Amy repeated everything. Nothing sounded better the second time.
“Oh dear.”
“Josephine was taken with Sedgebrook, ma’am. Couldn’t stop talking about all the rooms, the Conservatory, and the ornamental ponds in the garden, too. She was even saying what she wanted to change when she became duchess. She made quite an impression with the staff, but it wasn’t a good one.”
“In other words, the girl would have done anything.”
Amy nodded.
Susan glanced toward the open door of the parlor. Without being directed to do so, Amy slid it closed. She patted the sofa next to her. A moment later Amy sat beside her.
“She seemed so sincere that morning,” Susan said. “Almost terrified. I would never have imagined Josephine to be lying about such a thing.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d spoken of delicate subjects with her maid. Amy wasn’t in the first blush of youth anymore, plus she’d always had a level head on her shoulders. Her greatest asset, however, was a ferocious loyalty.
Josephine had a tendency to overlook Amy, treating her with no more notice than a footstool or a cabinet. Her mother had been the same. Was arrogance inherited? She’d never thought so until Marie and Josephine entered her life.
What had she done? Why hadn’t she factored in Josephine’s greed? Her youngest granddaughter unfortunately had the heart of an asp.
For the first time in a long time, she felt genuinely ill.
Her mother had often told Susan that she interfered too much in other people’s lives. Even as a child, she was interested in the happiness of her siblings. Thanks to her, her brother had met his wife and her sister a husband. She’d also been instrumental in smoothing out rough patches between spouses, interpreting difficulties in communication. Yes, she interfered, but mostly to the betterment of those people involved in the situation.
Until now.
She’d never expected to fail so spectacularly in this one thing.
Dear God in Heaven, what had she done?
She should have seen how affected Martha was by the duke’s presence. The girl bit her lip, clenched her hands together until the knuckles whitened, and spoke in a faint voice unlike her.
It was all Susan’s fault. No one could say otherwise. Her machinations had borne fruit, but not exactly as she’d planned. She’d hoped that Martha would attract the duke’s attention, especially given everything that Matthew had told her about the man and about how he wished the two of them might one day meet. All she’d wanted was to generate a little interest between them.
She had a scandal of epic proportions, one prevented by a quick wedding. Except, of course, that the wrong people were getting married.
What on earth did she do now?
Martha didn’t appear at dinner or afterward when they adjourned to the parlor. Jordan wasn’t unduly surprised. He hadn’t seen her since their kiss.
He felt as if the moment on the dock had been one of déjà vu. She felt familiar in his arms. Or maybe it was just that it felt right to hold her.
Josephine hadn’t said anything to him about the situation, but he knew she was angry. Her smile had a different flavor to it tonight and she wasn’t paying as much attention to him as she was Reese. He’d also caught Mrs. York glancing at him from time to time. Did she, too, know about the kiss?
Perhaps he should just stand and issue a blanket mea culpa. Yes, I kissed her. Without thought to my role in life, my upcoming marriage, or anything else, I kissed Martha.
He’d wanted to go on kissing her as well, which was something he wasn’t about to confess.
Perhaps it’s a good thing she hadn’t appeared. He might not be able to conceal his thoughts. Or the sudden longing he felt—as troubling an emotion as his reluctance about his wedding.
“I’m sorry Miss York is feeling ill,” Reese said. “I wanted to ask her about her discovery this afternoon.”
Evidently, Reese had put out feelers among the staff. Someone—a maid, a footman, maybe even a stableboy—had already told him everything about the Goldfish’s successful voyage.
If the rumors were true, the Topographical & Statistics Department was becoming the Intelligence Branch of the War Office. Reese was already well on his way to making himself invaluable.
“Did she really get her ship to work?” Reese asked.
Jordan didn’t say a word. Nor did Josephine, but he wasn’t sure if it was ignorance on her part or just a dislike of the subject. He hadn’t been alone with Josephine much but when he was it was obvious she wanted the conversation to be centered around her.
He had a lifetime of boredom ahead of him.
No, it wasn’t his imagination, Mrs. York was most definitely glancing in his direction. If they’d been alone, he would have asked her forgiveness for his behavior.
His priorities had never been so skewed before, but then he’d never been as confused as he was now. The woman he was about to ma
rry was a stranger and the woman who should have been a stranger felt like someone he’d always known.
Part of it was Matthew mentioning his daughter in his letters. He’d grown accustomed to Matthew’s observations about Martha, knowing what she’d said or how she felt about a certain situation. The older man had also passed along Martha’s thoughts about improvements to the vessel, most of which Jordan found insightful and practical.
Plus, his talks with Martha at Sedgebrook had been unusual, at least for him. He’d never divulged as much to anyone, feeling a trust with Martha that he’d only experienced with her father.
He didn’t feel that same trust for the woman he was about to marry.
He’d been trapped into this marriage by honor. Wouldn’t it be interesting if he could withdraw from it for the same reason? He’d kissed Martha. Would it be enough for Josephine to release him?
He doubted it. Even now Josephine was holding court by chattering on about events planned around the marriage ceremony. He didn’t care. Just get it over with. He would take Josephine back to Sedgebrook and involve himself wholeheartedly in his work.
Would Martha tell him how she fixed the guidance system? Or would she rightfully retain the knowledge so her father got the credit for the York Torpedo Ship? If so, he would have to find something else to occupy himself, a few other inventions that had interested him in the past.
What the hell was he going to do with his life? What was he going to do about this marriage?
He was going to do his duty. He was going to be the 11th Duke of Roth, damn it.
Everyone was looking at him expectantly.
“Josephine was just complimenting your stable,” Mrs. York said.
Why the hell did the woman keep mentioning those damnable horses? Wasn’t she aware of the accident? Or perhaps she didn’t know why he wouldn’t be able to walk without a limp for the rest of his life.
“My brother is to be thanked for the stable,” he said.
“You won’t have to sell Ercole now,” she said, deigning to finally smile at him.
