CHAPTER 5
What an unmitigated disaster she had created.
This is what she got for scheming. His brother.
The man she had kissed in the garden, the man who had awakened passions she didn’t even know she possessed, was her fiancé’s brother.
Josephine looked down at her plate and tried to smile and make polite conversation with the man by her side.
Good god, how could she marry him now? It had become even more unpalatable. Impossible.
She slid a sidelong glance at him. Lord Montfort was handsome.
As handsome as his brother, some may say.
Similar height and build, same dark auburn hair, the same profile.
They were so alike that she had mistaken them based on that brief glimpse she had once caught of him.
Yet while Lord Michael made her heart beat faster and her stomach flutter with anticipation and desire, Lord Montfort, the man she was supposed to marry, left her completely unmoved.
She never should have dallied in the garden.
Her innocent plan to get to know her betrothed had backfired on her in the worst possible way.
Her face flamed at the memory of their kiss.
Kiss? It was so much more than that. She had wanted to crawl into his arms and never emerge.
Now she had an enraged Lord Michael looking daggers at her, no doubt thinking she was a veritable hussy for deceiving him, and a potential catastrophe in her hands.
What if he told his brother and his parents of her indiscretion in the garden? She would be ruined. Her entire family would be ruined. Yet not even that scared her so much as the realization that, even after the shattering revelation that he was not her betrothed, her desire for him had not abated.
The dinner was the longest of her life. Having to sustain a conversation with Lord Montfort while trying her utmost to not let her attention wander to Lord Michael left her drained.
Even so, she was acutely aware of his presence.
Without having to look, she knew every time his gaze alighted on her, could pick out his voice among the din of conversation of the twenty some guests seated at the table.
It was a relief when the time came for the ladies to leave, and even more so when he wasn’t among the gentlemen who joined the ladies later in the drawing room. A reprieve, yes, but a temporary one. Soon she would have to face him. Explain. Apologize. And beg him not to expose her.
Were his silence and forgiveness what she really wanted, though? Could she go along now with the plan of marrying Lord Montfort? She tried to imagine a future in which Lord Michael was her brother-in-law and everything in her recoiled at the thought.
“My dear? You seem distracted.”
She realized the duchess was speaking. Something about a parlor game she had prepared to entertain her guests.
“Not at all, Your Grace. You were just explaining the rules of the game you had prepared for us.”
That seemed to please the duchess, and with a brilliant smile, she continued to explain the game. Something about a scavenger hunt, and the clues would be hidden throughout several rooms on this level of the house.
She had no intention of looking for clues, but at least the nature of the game would allow the guests to disperse.
Her mother had decided not to participate and had sat down with a few other matrons to play cards.
She was glad, otherwise her mother would cling to her side, hissing orders and reprimands.
Maybe she could find a few moments of peace and solitude, away from people, to compose herself.
At a signal from the duchess, all the participating guests scattered.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Montfort walking toward her.
Maybe he sought to partner up with her in the game and take advantage of this opportunity to get closer or even steal a kiss.
She exited the room before he could reach her.
It would be in her best interests to stay far away from him until she figured out her feelings and her standing.
Out in the hallway, she looked this way and that.
People were scattering in all directions.
She couldn’t linger in the hallway or her intended might catch her.
She was trotting down the corridor, looking for a place to hide, when a door opened to her right and the man who had occupied her thoughts all night hissed from the darkness beyond the threshold.
“Come in here.”
She didn’t hesitate one second before she plunged into the semi-lit room.
She saw Michael look through the crack of the door before he closed it and locked it, trapping them both inside.
It was the second time on the same day they were in a highly improper situation, but now they both knew their identities, and their roles.
Michael turned and impaled her with his gaze. “Explain.”
That’s it. Only one word. A command. But she recognized the hurt masked by the uncompromising authority. It found an echo in her.
“I thought you were my betrothed,” she hastened to reply. At his look of incredulity, she went on. “It’s true. I glimpsed him once at a ball. You two look very alike.”
“Not so much that we would be mistaken for each other!”
“Not up close. But I only saw your brother the once, from afar. Besides, I overheard part of your conversation with the footman. You referred to the duke as your father.”
He raised his brows. “Because he is. The duke has two sons.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You didn’t know the man you intended to marry had a brother? I would have thought the first thing you’d do is to pore over Debrett’s to study his family lineage.”
She frowned at that. “Why would I do that?”
“Isn’t that what these arranged marriages are all about? Bloodlines and family connections.”
He said it with such disgust one would have thought he was not a member of the aristocracy and as such, expected to do just that as well.
“Maybe for our parents. But not for me. I was only concerned with learning what kind of person the man I was betrothed to was. And Debrett wasn’t going to give me the answer to that.”
“So you arrived at the conclusion I was your betrothed based on a distant glance and an overheard conversation?”
“Maybe I wanted to believe you were my betrothed. Because I felt an immediate pull toward you.” She was laying her heart bare in front of him.
If he mocked or berated her, he would inflict a painful wound.
But he didn’t do that. Stepping closer, he placed a gentle finger under her chin, lifting her face so that their eyes met.
“And if you thought I was your betrothed, why didn’t you reveal your identity? I wanted to introduce myself! You wouldn’t allow me.”
“I know, and I’m very sorry for that. I wanted to get to know you, ascertain how you felt about our arranged marriage and whether we suited.
Or if not, at least see if there was some chance to convince you to break the engagement.
Hiding my identity seemed like the best way to get you to show me your true self. ”
“So it was all a mistake?”
She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze.
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s inadequate, but my intention was never to lie or make sport of you.
When I said you didn’t need to speak to my father and that all would be revealed later, I meant that you were going to find out I was your betrothed and all would be well.
You’d be glad, and we would both have a laugh and a fun story to tell about how we met in the garden. ”
“But I am not your fiancé. Much as I wish I were. What are you going to do now?”
At that moment, someone laughed outside in the corridor, and the doorknob rattled. They both waited with bated breath until they heard retreating footsteps.
“I must return to the drawing room. The game must be almost over.”
“Meet me tomorrow morning at the maze. At eight. There won’t be anyone around at that time.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
He kissed her. Hard and angry. The kiss was over before her mind could catch on to the sensations coursing through her body, but it had the same devastating effect on her. Every time their mouths touched, her body seemed to come to life.
“Tomorrow at eight at the maze.” With that, he strode toward the door and left.