Page 60 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“About you and Josephine? Not at all.” Simon’s grin turned lazy. “This will make you my brother in truth, which pleases me to no end. Do you think you will stop bickering with Josephine, or will love accelerate that, too?”

“I think we’ll always bicker.” He looked to the carriage ahead, thinking of the woman he loved riding inside. “But all our arguments will come to far sweeter conclusions.”

Simon groaned. “Oh, no. You’re going to be one of those sorts—the poetical suitor. Do save it for Josephine, won’t you? Spare the rest of us your lovemaking as much as possible.” Simon leaned back again. “And treat her well, Andrew. She deserves the best you can give her.”

“On that, we are in agreement.” Andrew was ready to change the subject, if only to grant his friend the mercy of not discussing his sister and romance at the same time.

But Simon spoke before Andrew could, changing the subject himself. “I haven’t told anyone, but Father and Mother mean to return to the castle tomorrow, as a surprise visit, before Father returns to London for the rest of the parliamentary session.”

“That’s marvelous news.” Andrew guided the horse into the lane that would take them to his home. “Everyone will be delighted.”

“I know you meant to stay in Bytham longer, to see to your affairs. But I think you should come back with us.” Simon’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “It will be the perfect opportunity to speak to my father about courting Josephine.”

The relief Andrew had felt after confessing to Simon vanished. Speaking to the duke on the morrow meant a return to anxiety. He gulped, then nodded. “I agree. I will arrange to return with you this afternoon.”

Simon’s laugh was almost wicked. “An excellent decision, baronet.”

Hours later, Andrew followed the duke’s carriage. He’d told a curious Josephine that he felt it best to return to Clairvoir with them, for safety’s sake. He wouldn’t spoil her parents’ surprise for anything. But, unsettled as he was to think of speaking of her father, he couldn’t deny to himself what a relief it was to be with her longer.

In his trunk was her manuscript, which he’d found that morning on his desk. And he couldn’t wait to read it. Hopefully, as he kept her company in her tower, away from prying eyes, where he might well sneak a kiss or two. But mostly he would sit quietly, supporting the woman he loved as she wrote, encouraging each and every one of her dreams.

EPILOGUE

June 1819

The ballroom of the castle wasn’t hidden behind closed doors, but rather stood as an open hall at the top of a wide staircase. When the family hosted parties, the music drifted through the corridors of the castle. Here, Josephine and Andrew would greet their guests after they were married in the family chapel.

Emma, Josephine’s dearest friend, sat at a table in the center of the hall. As did the duchess and the dowager duchess. Spread before them were lists of guests, small flower arrangements, and ribbons in every color imaginable.

“I still cannot believe you are marrying Andrew.” Emma checked another name off the list before shooting Josephine a conspiratorial grin. “You two have detested one another for ages.”

Josephine blushed and looked across the room to where Andrew leaned against the stair rail, speaking to Simon. “I never exactly disliked him, you know.”

“Oh, we know.” Her mother turned over another lace sample for the bridal veil. “The spirited arguments over the years were nothing more than you two falling deeply in love with one another.” She laughed when Josephine narrowed her eyes. “My darling, I am grateful this day has come. But after the misery the two of you put us through, always making us listen to your debates, every member of this family is entitled to a little teasing.”

“Hear, hear,” Grandmama added beneath her breath. She unceremoniously picked up a purple ribbon and tossed it into a basket of rejected fabrics and flowers. “We really ought to use the blue for your hair and the flowers,” she said, picking up two blue ribbons.

Josephine didn’t much care what she wore. She’d be happy in an old flour sack, so long as she married Andrew in two weeks’ time. “The blue would be lovely. Thank you, Grandmama.”

“And Irish lace, I think.” Her Grace, the Duchess of Montfort, picked up a beautiful piece that mimicked vines and flowers. “To honor our family’s ties to Ireland. Unless you would prefer the French.” She picked up a daintier piece.

“The Irish lace,” Josephine said, looking over her shoulder again at Andrew only to find him grinning back at her as Simon spoke. Her betrothed had wanted to offer her a longer courtship, but with the uncertainty of her father’s political schedule, Josephine had thrown all caution to the wind. “Why don’t you marry me now?” she had asked the day after her father had given his approval of the match.

Andrew, after an initial moment of surprise, had pulled her close and kissed her where they stood, in the middle of her tower room. Then he’d held her hand while reading her manuscript, and she pretended to read a book of poetry. His thumb, brushing her knuckles gently, had proven quite distracting.

“You see?” Emma’s voice said, interrupting Josephine’s memory. “It is no use talking to her when my cousin is within sight. We ought to dismiss them both.”

“I quite agree.” The duchess’s soft smile was one of approval rather than impatience. “You have made enough decisions for now, my dear. Why don’t you and Andrew take a walk in the gardens? I am certain you have much to discuss.”

They did—and they would have the rest of their lives to speak of anything and everything. But Josephine rose from the table with enthusiasm, kissing first her mother and then her grandmother, before walking across the room to her beloved.

Andrew held his hand out as she approached, and she took it in her own before snuggling into his side. “I have been told that you and I must go on a walk,” she told him, then gave her brother an apologetic smile. “If you don’t mind me kidnapping my betrothed.”

“Not in the least. He’s been standing here mooning over you the whole time.” Simon pushed away from the rail, a wide smile on his face. “Maybe a little air and exercise will make you both fit for company again.” He winked at them, then sauntered toward the stairs.

Andrew took her in the opposite direction, through a corridor and down the steps that would take them out into the air in the fewest amount of steps. Together, they stepped into the bright afternoon sunlight. He tucked her close as they walked.

“Wedding preparations going well?” he asked, his eyes dancing with happiness.