Not bloody likely. But there was nothing to be gained by contradicting her now. She would grant him until the court date? Then he damn well will make sure to take advantage of every single minute until then.
He grabbed her to him with an arm behind her back and took her mouth as he had been longing to do since he had left her bed this morning.
CHAPTER 33
Thedayshadslippedthrough her fingers like sand, rushing ever forward to the moment she dreaded most.
Edward’s fate would be decided today.
Josephine twisted her gloved fingers in her lap as they rode in a carriage toward the Chancery Court. Michael sat beside her, his presence providing the confidence she desperately needed. Always attuned to her moods, he reached for her hand, enveloping it in warmth and comfort. Calming her nerves.
Throughout this whole ordeal, he had been her rock. Her steadfast champion. Her lover. Her protector. And after today, she would have to let him go. Josephine had always believed herself a woman of integrity. She had known from the start what she needed to do. And yet she no longer knew if she had the fortitude to leave him.
She loved him.
She had always loved him. And she couldn’t bear life without him. He claimed to love her too, and she didn’t doubt it. Theirconnection was always strong. Undeniable. But would he resent her a few years from now when he realized too late the enormity of what he had given up because of her?
She sat stiffly in the carriage as they rattled through the streets of London. The Chancery Court loomed ahead, an imposing edifice of stone and power. Her stomach clenched. This day would decide her nephew’s fate. And, if she were honest with herself, a part of her own fate as well.
Just before they arrived, Michael turned to her, enveloped her in his arms, lending her his strength. His presence was a comfort she had no right to cling to, yet she found herself drawing strength from it.
"You need not fear," he said, as though reading her mind. His broad-shouldered frame was a refuge. But his unflappable confidence provided even more reassurance. "Everything will be fine, I promise. You are not alone in this."
Slowly, reluctantly, she untangled herself from his arms, avoiding his gaze. She could not bear to look at him, not when she knew that soon—too soon—she would have to let him go.
Her heart was too weak to do what was right. And yet she must.
The carriage rocked to a halt and Michael jumped out. Josephine took a deep breath, then, taking his proffered hand, stepped out. She caught sight of Mary, Lady Rutledge, waiting upon the steps of the courthouse. The sweet lady smiled tremulously at her. Lord Rutledge stood by her side, solemn and forbidding. But when she looked his way, he nodded. A silent promise of support. These people had lost their daughter. Then her brother had denied them a relationship with their grandson. They probably loved Edward as much as she did. And that made their support all the more meaningful. It’s as if they were saying, we know you’ll care for him as our own daughter would have done.
Michael extended his arm. "Shall we?"
She hesitated—just a fraction too long. Then, with a sigh of resignation, she placed her hand on his sleeve and let him lead her inside.
The courtroom was heavy with the scent of ink and old parchment. The judge, a severe-looking man with keen eyes, peered down from his high seat. Josephine swallowed hard as the proceedings began.
Her cousin’s barrister rose with a dramatic flourish. "My Lord, while Lady Josephine Everleigh presents herself as a suitable guardian, one must consider whether she possesses the moral fortitude required to raise a young heir."
A hush fell over the courtroom. Josephine’s breath caught in her throat.
"Although she’s now mysteriously betrothed to His Grace, the Duke of Aycliffe, does anyone know where she’s been for the last decade? Rumors abound that she eloped with some man. Yet she dares to return. Still unmarried, independent, and claiming the guardianship of a small, innocent child and, with it, the control of his inheritance. Her character has been the subject of whispers since her return," the barrister continued, his voice slick with insinuation. “One wonders—”
He did not finish the sentence.
Because Michael had risen.
His movements were not hurried, not rash. But his very presence commanded the room, silencing even the judge.
"Be very careful, sir," Michael said, his voice cold as steel. "You are speaking of my future duchess."
The barrister blanched. A murmur swept through the gallery.
Michael did not sit. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, bore into the other man. "If you mean to impugn her reputation, then you will do so at your peril."
Josephine’s pulse thundered in her ears. She had seen Michael in many shades—amused, irritated, passionate, tender. But she had never seen him like this.
Dangerous.
Every inch the duke. Every bit a commanding officer.
