Page 24 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“Like an unwanted specter,” he quipped, quite forgetting Mr. Wood’s unfamiliarity with their ways.

“Oh.” The clergyman looked between them with undisguised suspicion. “Very well then. Allow me, Lady Josephine.” He offered her his arm. Josephine did not even look in Andrew’s direction again as the rector led her down the path, through the gate, and to the churchyard and the aforementioned bench.

Andrew followed, pausing only long enough by his horse to check the security of the tied-off lead. This put a few steps between him and the couple walking arm-in-arm. Honey raised her head and snorted. “I quite agree. She is an odd one.”

If Josephine heard, she gave no indication of it.

Andrew stopped at the stonewall that bordered the churchyard, leaning back against it and keeping an eye on Josephine as she settled on the bench. Though he found it impossible to fathom why she needed to speak to Mr. Wood, he had no reason to invade her privacy. Whether she spoke on a matter of theology, confession, or wished to ask the man’s opinion on her bonnet, Andrew could grant her a moment’s peace.

She wasn’t the little girl he had met, all those years ago. She had been clever and sharp-tongued, and amusing to tease. But now… Josephine, a woman grown, was so much more. She was beautiful. Quick-witted. Intelligent. And thinking for even one moment that she would put herself in danger—it had made his temper flare, though that fire was fueled with worry for her safety.

The churchyard felt gloomier than usual. Likely because of the low-hanging clouds above them. The morning had taken on a gray cast shortly before Andrew and Simon had returned from their ride. As the rain had yet to break, they might get lucky and see none of it that day.

He focused once more on his errant quarry, settled happily on the bench with head upturned.

The rector remained standing, hands tucked behind his back. He wore an earnest expression as Josephine spoke, too quietly for Andrew to hear more than the tone she used. A soft, determined sort of tone.

He waited. And would wait as long as necessary to ensure she found her way safely home again.

CHAPTER 9

While the sky overhead grew gloomier, Josephine asked Mr. Wood as many questions as she could think to without giving away the reason behind them. He was gentleman enough not to pry into her reasons for asking about his training, the life of a rector, or how he intended to become a vicar and what difference that would make in his role in the church. He also answered her questions about the vestry garments, confirming some of her knowledge while yet offering greater insight.

The interview lasted a quarter of an hour. All the while Josephine and Mr. Wood spoke, Andrew leaned against the stone wall. Arms crossed. Glancing about himself as though he hadn’t anywhere or any way better to spend his time.

“Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions, Mr. Wood. You have assuaged my curiosity with such kindness.” Josephine rose from the bench, and Mr. Wood was good enough to not look at his pocket watch. “If I think of anything else, might we speak again?”

“Of course. It is refreshing to find someone with such an interest in the work of a rector. I cannot think anyone has interviewed me so thoroughly before, not even when I took orders.” His smile, though tinged with amusement, remained perfectly polite. “I confess, Lady Josephine, when I opened the door to find you and Sir Andrew present, I thought my afternoon would take quite a different turn.”

She glanced to where Andrew still waited for her, then back to the rector. “Oh? What did you expect would happen?”

His smile turned sheepish. “I have been told that when young couples turn up on a priest’s doorstep without kin, they usually wish to discuss the possibility of marriage without parental permission.”

Josephine could not stop her mouth from falling open in surprise, but she hastily closed it again and shook her head tightly. “Sir Andrew and me—the idea! You have not known us any measure of time, certainly, or you would see what an impossibility such a thing would be.” She refrained from wrinkling her nose. Barely. “We scarcely tolerate one another.”

“Truly?” Mr. Wood had the good grace to accept her pronouncement with an amused chuckle. He glanced at Sir Andrew. Then looked back at Josephine with raised eyebrows. “He is a fierce friend and protector. You must allow for that much.”

“What makes you think such a thing, Mr. Wood?” How could anyone so misinterpret the irritation she and the baronet caused one another? A friend, indeed. He was Simon’s friend. And her annoyance.

Josephine tried not to glance in Andrew’s direction, but his relaxed stance stayed at the corner of her eye anyway. The walk home would trap them together soon enough.

Mr. Wood relaxed his posture. “Only the obvious, my lady. He has stood watch over us without question or complaint for the entirety of our interview.”

“Oh.” She relaxed. Mr. Wood thought Andrew worried after her. That was not so terrible a presumption on his part. “That is my brother’s doing. Sir Andrew and Lord Farleigh are dear friends. My brother asked Sir Andrew to see me safely home this afternoon. That is all.”

The rector’s expression did not change, which made her wonder if his impression of Andrew remained the same. “Then I will allow him to see you returned to the castle safely, my lady. Thank you for your conversation. I hope my answers proved helpful to you.”

“They have. Thank you once more.” She curtsied, then turned to leave the churchyard, walking toward Andrew. He pushed himself away from the wall and fell into step beside her before she reached the arched exit to the road.

She did not say a word to him, though she waited at the lane for him to retrieve his horse from the vicarage. With Honey following behind, Andrew rejoined Josephine, and they walked together through the village on their way home to the castle.

They passed fewer people this time. Mr. Holton, the purveyor of ribbons and thread, hurried to gather his tall stand of ribbons. He took it indoors. Noting his anxious behavior, Josephine looked up at the sky.

Andrew followed her gaze. “I think it will hold until we get to the castle.”

“Even if it does not, a little rain will hurt nothing.” She checked the ribbon of her bonnet, finding it secure as ever beneath her chin. “Especially if we take the shortcut. There are plenty of trees overhead to block most of the rain.”

“Honey cannot take the shortcut.” Andrew gestured behind him to his large mare. “The path is too narrow and the trees too low for a horse of her size to pass through.”