CHAPTER 18
Twenty-four hours after her encounter with Michael and his subsequent abrupt departure, her nerves still fluttered.
Josephine had barely slept a wink the previous night, and when she drifted off, images of him filled her dreams. Sometimes the visions were benevolent fantasies that had seemed so real: him enfolding her in his arms, kissing her, looking at her with love and adoration in his eyes.
Only they transformed into nightmarish images of him rejecting her, accusing her of being a harlot, and taking away her nephew.
She had woken up crying, only to fall asleep again and have another nightmare in which he somehow morphed into the pasha and forced himself on her. After that, she had not slept again.
Now she dressed for the day, listless and worried, knowing that another confrontation with him was imminent.
Worst of all was that, in a secret part of her heart, she was looking forward to seeing him.
Even if he despised her for her perceived abandonment, even if his eyes sparked with fury instead of love at the sight of her, she rejoiced in his presence. Felt safer for having him by her side.
Was he an ally though? He had made no promises. In fact, his distrust was more than evident. He might very well decide to side with her cousins and take Edward away, if only out of revenge.
No. He wouldn’t do that. Even if he hated and distrusted her, he was a fair man. He would do what was best for the child, she was sure. So she had to show him that what was best for Edward was to remain in her care.
To that effect, she dressed in a demure gown of deep green and styled her hair in a simple bun gathered low on her head. She had eschewed wearing black for a brother she couldn’t, in all honesty, mourn, but darker colors would at least lend some decorum to her ensemble.
Confirming that she looked respectable, she headed to the nursery to have breakfast with her nephew.
Her habit of taking her coffee and toast in the nursery with the child had been born out of necessity when she noticed how filthy his feeding bottle was and that the child was having tummy troubles and barely eating enough.
She might not be an expert on children, but she knew she didn’t like to eat out of unwashed china, so why should a child be subjected to that?
She had ordered the bottles and rubber nipples to be thoroughly cleaned and boiled in water, and when that seemed to improve her nephew’s digestion, she started adding more solid foods to his diet.
Soft-boiled eggs, some buttery pap, and the cook’s delicious possets.
The servants had been skeptical at first, but when Edward started gaining weight and all his tummy troubles disappeared, they started listening to her.
In the month she had been here, she had implemented many such changes to the child’s routine, including play, outdoors, and nap times, and Edward was thriving.
It was the reason she didn’t want a stranger to interfere with how she cared for him. But if Michael insisted upon it, the best she could do was make sure the person he hired wouldn’t be unbearable and contentious.
To achieve that, she had to use persuasion and, above all, not be confrontational. Her outburst yesterday had been unwise. When he arrived, she would apologize and attempt to reason with him. She expected he would call sometime this afternoon, but once again, he surprised her.
She was still halfway through her coffee and Edward was messily eating his pap, getting almost as much of it on his face as in his mouth, when a maid came to announce that His Grace, the Duke of Aycliffe had arrived and requested to see her.
“This early?” Josephine glanced at the clock.
It was not yet ten in the morning! What on earth was he doing here now?
Had social customs in England changed so much in the previous years?
Of course not. He had arrived at this time because he wanted to catch her unawares.
So be it, then. She had nothing to hide.
“Bring His Grace up to the nursery.”
The girl bobbed and departed, just to return a few minutes later with him in tow. Despite the early hour, and being in the countryside, Michael appeared immaculately dressed and every inch the duke.
Josephine stood and curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“Lady Josephine.” His eyes scanned the room, missing nothing and stopping on Edward’s messy face. “Have I arrived at an inopportune time?”
“Not at all, Your Grace. My nephew and I are having breakfast. Would you like to join us?”
The small twist of lips was the first genuine smile he had bestowed upon her since her return. It caused her heart to somersault.
“I would be delighted.”
Of all the things Michael expected to find today, seeing Josephine partaking of breakfast with a messy but obviously happy and well-fed toddler was not one of them.
What had he expected, then? Maybe to catch her still abed and know she would have to scramble to get dressed?
For some reason, the idea of a sleepy and slightly rumpled Josephine held an inordinate appeal.
But she was properly dressed and coiffed, already up and enjoying her breakfast in the most unusual of places.
He eyed the nursery table, not too low that an adult could not sit comfortably at it, but definitely nowhere near as big as a dining room table, and set with only a few plates of simple food.
Certainly nothing resembling the lavish breakfasts he was used to.
He took a seat opposite Josephine at the small square table, the child to his left. The aroma that greeted his nose was that of strong coffee, flavored with a hint of spice—cardamon, cinnamon?
“No tea?” he asked as one of the nursemaids hurried to set china and cutlery for him. Josephine cut him a quick glance before her eyes lowered once more to her cup.
“I prefer coffee in the mornings, Your Grace. If you would like tea, I’ll send a maid down to make some.”
“No need. I like coffee as well.” He served himself a good dose of the inky black beverage, noticing with pleasure that it was still hot, and inhaling the delicious aroma carried by the steam wafting out of the cup.
Milk and sugar were set out next to the coffee, so he availed himself of both before tasting the bracing beverage.
“Would you like some toast with butter or jam? Perhaps some eggs?”
He eyed the soft-boiled eggs. At the same moment, the small pudgy hand of Lord Dunhaven decided to grab one of them.
The tiny fist closed on the soft orb, squashing the egg beyond recognition and creating a huge mess.
Which apparently didn’t bother the child, for he took the mangled egg to his mouth and proceeded to eat it.
He decided to decline that particular offering.
“I’ll have some toast,” he said, grabbing the still intact piece before small, messy hands could get to it.
Josephine laughed, a small and quiet chuckle that held echoes of her old laughter, although more subdued. It still went straight to his heart.
“You must forgive Edward, Your Grace,” she said, leaning in to wipe a piece of egg from the child’s chin. “He is just learning to feed himself and his table manners leave much to be desired.”
He smiled, amused and enchanted by the cherubic tot with his blond curls, rosy lips, and chubby hands.
Charmed by Josephine, sitting next to the child, patiently helping him, but at the same time allowing him the independence he needed to achieve things by himself.
By this entire domestic scene, so sweet, so unexpected.
Despite everything, he couldn’t help a pang of longing.
If things had been different, if she had loved him enough to stay, this could’ve been their family.
Damn her. How dare she torment him with this image of blissful domesticity after breaking his heart!
He took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat.
“Talking of forgiveness, I must beg yours for the way I behaved yesterday. I was taken aback by our unexpected encounter, but there was no call to be rude.”
“Oh!” Sky-blue eyes, wide with surprise and vulnerability, turned on him.
“Not at all, Your Grace. It is understandable why you distrust me, after the way we parted… I was going to apologize to you as well. For getting defensive when you said you wanted to hire a governess. Can we start over, then?”
Start over. She meant in their dealings about the guardianship of the child, of course.
But for a mad moment, his mind drifted twelve years back.
To another type of starting over. Their relationship.
The future they had once imagined and that never came to pass.
He gave a mental shake. What nonsense. They could not restart their past, nor did he want to.
He had to keep reminding himself that she had left him.
She had decided back then that he was not what she wanted.
“Agreed. Let’s start fresh today. And I promise you, I won’t let our past color my decisions about the child.”
It was the first direct reference he had made about their shared past, and he saw her surprise in the way her eyes widened and then skittered away as if in shame.
“Thank you. I would like that. For my part, I will cooperate with you on all things. I’m sure you have many questions. You can ask me anything.”
Again, she meant about the child and the guardianship.
But his mind immediately went to the one question he wanted to ask.
Why did you leave me? He didn’t ask it, of course.
She had already explained her reasons in that awful letter.
And he wasn’t so pathetic that he would lower himself to question her now, hoping for a different answer.
He was about to ask some inconsequential question about the child’s routine when the door opened once again and the same maid entered.
“You have visitors, milady. Mr. and Mrs. Everleigh.”