Page 97 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“No, but…” Her mother paced a step, wringing her hands. “This is madness. What if the Duke of Ashmoore tires of us?”

Josephine frowned. “Why would he tire of us?”

“Or what if I say the wrong thing?” her mother fretted.

Josephine fought the urge to roll her eyes. “And why would you think that?”

Her mother hesitated. “I don’t rightly know. But I do believe this is a terrible idea. Perhaps I should send my regrets.”

“For what purpose?” Josephine motioned towards her mother’s maroon gown. “You look lovely, and your hair is perfect.”

Her mother pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “Why am I so nervous?”

Josephine couldn’t help her gentle smile. “Could it be that you hold some affection for the Duke of Ashmoore?”

“Heavens, no! I loved your father.”

“I don’t dispute that,” she said. “But you can still have affection for the duke.”

Her mother finally stilled, lowering her hands. “I have admired him for a very long time… but that is a far cry from affection.”

Josephine stepped closer and took her mother’s hands into her own. “It is all right to feel something for the duke.”

“I don’t know…” Her mother’s voice trembled. “I would never want to taint your father’s memory.”

“You aren’t and you won’t.” Josephine squeezed her hands. “Trust me.”

Her mother gave a thin, nervous smile. “I feel like a foolish debutante attending her first ball. My stomach is fluttering, and I fear I may say something ridiculous.”

“You will be perfect,” Josephine assured her. “But we must leave if we don’t want to be late.”

They walked down the hall towards the entry. As they reached the staircase, feminine laughter floated from the drawing room.

“Lady Gwendolyn and her mother are having dinner with Alexander,” her mother explained.

A wave of relief washed over Josephine. “Then it is fortunate we are dining with His Grace. I could not endure Lady Gwendolyn for an entire meal.”

As they approached the door, Alexander appeared with Lady Gwendolyn on his arm. Lady Gwendolyn’s smile was bright, possessive.

“You are looking well this evening,” Lady Gwendolyn said sweetly. Too sweetly. “Not every young woman can manage that color.”

“Thank you,” Josephine replied, forcing her lips into a polite smile.

“I understand you are dining with the Duke of Ashmoore this evening,” Lady Gwendolyn added.

“We are,” Josephine answered.

Lady Gwendolyn leaned into Alexander. “I cannot imagine why. His townhouse is so cold and drab. Quite uninviting, really. Perhaps it is the company that lives there. One could not say.”

Josephine inhaled slowly to keep from saying something very unladylike. “Well… good evening, Lady Gwendolyn.”

“Oh, before you go,” Lady Gwendolyn chirped, her smile sharpening, “please inform Lord Pendryn that I am engaged to your brother.”

Josephine’s jaw almost dropped. “That is… wonderful news.” She tried very hard to make her tone sound convincing.

“Yes, is it not?” Lady Gwendolyn preened. “I am fortunate, indeed, that I did not have to settle for anything less than love.”

Josephine nodded stiffly and moved towards the open door, where Dupree waited with one brow faintly raised. “You are most fortunate, indeed,” she said before stepping into the night.