Chapter Seven
“Icannot believe you are tempting such madness once more. I think he made his position clear after you accosted him on Bond Street?—”
“I didn’t accost him. I stumbled. The ruined tobacco was unfortunate.”
“Let us not forget that he could have gone to your brother after you broke into his home but did not. Leave it, Josephine. Forget the brooch.”
“And be the only Harrington unable to fulfill her father’s request? Simply wave goodbye to my inheritance?” Josephine gave Willa a hard look. “I think not.”
Besides, it would mean saying goodbye to Lavisham, and she wasn’t entirely ready to do that. The intimacy that had bloomedbetween them the night she’d stolen into his study still haunted her. She found herself dreaming of Lavisham and thinking of him more than she should. “I appreciate his discretion.”
“He has managed to keep his staff quiet.” Willa lowered her voice. “And protected your reputation. I do consider that to be honorable of him.”
“He did so for himself. Else we’d end up wed.” That thought stung a bit, but he’d given no indication since of any interest in her. If anything, the duke seemed to find her nothing but an annoyance. “I am not ready to give up, Willa. I will plead with him one last time. On my hands and knees, if I must.”
A trickle of molten honey stirred low in her belly at thinking of being on her hands and knees before Lavisham. Josephine pressed her thighs together to stop the sudden ache, a remembrance of that spectacular pleasure he’d given her.
“Then we are in agreement that if he refuses you tonight, you will allow the matter to end,” Willa said. “Your father set you a near impossible task.”
Josephine barely heard her. She was too busy thinking of Lavisham, with his shirt not only open as it had been that night, but entirely off. Her fingers trailing over all that muscle. The crisp feel of the hair on his chest, sliding between her fingers. How handsome he’d been when she’d found him on Bond Street, looking more like the duke he was than the rake he most definitely happened to be.
“Lead me to the room reserved for cards,” Josephine said with a great deal of determination. “I think it fortunate Lavisham is here tonight at all. He rarely attends balls.”
“Unless there is a great deal of gambling, according to my mother. At any rate, I beg you to not cause a scene. I really do not wish to be sent to Aunt Priscilla. Did I mention she burps a great deal?”
“Fortunately, you left that out in your description.”
“Along with the camphor smell, it is off-putting.” Willa sighed.
“I promise I will only speak to Lavisham.Discreetly.And if he refuses me again, I will accept defeat.”
A complete lie. No matter what she had to do, Josephine was going to get that ridiculous brooch back from Lavisham.
Josephine left her friend’s side and strolled sedately in the direction of the room set aside for cards, nodding to those she knew but not stopping to engage in conversation. Lavisham must be convinced. Somehow. Failing at this one task was unacceptable. She couldn’t be the only Harrington sister to be disinherited.
Smoothing down her skirts, she summoned her bravery, for which she did not lack. Lavisham was difficult. Churlish to a fault. Intimidating. But Josephine was determined and resolute.
This is why Father set this task before me.I am the boldest Harrington.Not to mention I can wield a rapier if necessary.
Not well, mind you. But that was inconsequential at present.
Masculine laughter burst from the room as a gentleman exited, nodding politely at Josephine as he passed. The scent of wine clung to the air before the open door, mixing with cheroot and pomade. Shaving soap. Josephine pushed her fingers into the folds of her skirts to stop them from trembling.
Josephine’s heart beat a little faster as she sauntered into the card room, feeling awkward and out of place. Social events were not her forte, as evidenced by Lady Randall’s garden party, not the first time she’d inadvertently ruined a carefully manicured flower bed. One had only to ask Willa.
I must not falter.
Moving into the room, Josephine paused at the spectacle. The air held more than a hint of smokiness. Glasses clinked. Curses were quietly tossed about as much as a losing hand of cards. Josephine played whist adequately. Sometimes One andTwenty, though never for more than buttons or pin money. She was much better at archery, though that wasn’t saying much.
Willa is right. My skills are greatly exaggerated.
Josephine skirted around the tables, ignoring the rolled eyes and annoyance at her presence, though she was not the only woman in the card room. Lady Tempand, a blazing redheaded widow was just to her left. A woman who did as she wished after suffering through marriage to the much older Lord Tempand. More often than not, she gambled rather than danced at balls.
That shade of red cannot be…natural. I wonder how often she must dye it.
Lady Tempand caught sight of her, raising one perfectly arched brow. Curious, no doubt, what one of the Harrington girls was doing in the card room, of all places.
Josephine’s footsteps halted at the sight of Lavisham’s golden mane. His back was to her, and she took the opportunity to study him. Hair a bit longer than it should be, nearly touching his collar. Shoulders so broad the seams of his coat stretched with every shift of his large body on what seemed to be a chair incapable of holding his weight. Feet…enormous.
