CHAPTER 25
Josephine sat back among the plush cushions of Michael’s luxurious carriage, heaving a sigh of relief as it conveyed them from the train station to his estate. Michael sat next to her, while Edward’s nursemaid sat on the seat opposite, the child’s head resting on her lap as he slept.
After a week in London, Josephine was more than happy to be going back to the countryside. Not that her time in town had been unpleasant—far from it. She’d found allies, even forged friendships, and received more warmth and support than she’d ever imagined possible.
Hannah and Abigail, in particular, were fast becoming dear to her.
Through them, she’d met other like-minded women—among them Esther, the former countess that was indeed married to a Chinese man and now went by Mrs. Wang.
A lovely woman with a gentle temperament, Esther had been genuinely delighted at the idea of helping other women, and her quiet strength and kindness had left a deep impression on Josephine.
Josephine had attended two more gatherings, one hosted by Abigail and the other by Mrs. Wang, who lived in a charming townhouse in Soho. Edward’s grandmother had accompanied her to these outings. Mary—as she insisted on being called—had become a friend as well and visited her grandson every day.
She had also been introduced to Lady Elizabeth, Esther’s daughter and Abigail’s sister-in-law—a beautiful, vivacious brunette with an easy charm and lively wit.
But Josephine, well practiced in reading expressions and silences thanks to her time in a harem where jealousy often hid behind smiles, detected something beneath the young woman’s gracious welcome.
A flicker of disappointment in Elizabeth’s eyes when Josephine was introduced as Michael’s fiancée.
And later, when Michael himself arrived to escort her home, the typically bold and talkative girl had turned coy.
Shy. Blushing prettily whenever he addressed her.
Had Elizabeth harbored hopes regarding Michael?
Had he maybe even encouraged those hopes?
Josephine’s eyes strayed to glance at Michael’s profile, silhouetted against the carriage window.
Michael, as if sensing her regard, caught her gaze and offered a warm smile.
She couldn’t blame Elizabeth. Michael was so handsome, kind, and charismatic—more than enough to turn any lady’s head.
And Elizabeth… she was everything Josephine wasn’t.
Young, unspoiled, lovely, unencumbered by scandal and pain.
Healthy. Almost certainly capable of giving him children.
And that—more than anything—was what twisted like a blade in Josephine’s chest. Michael deserved all of it. A family. A future free of scandal and shadows. He needed someone like Lady Elizabeth.
He did not need her.
And yet the thought of him in another woman’s arms, no matter how worthy, was agony.
Just as it was agony to sit among those generous, wonderful women and feel, despite her affection for them, a sharp pang of envy.
They had everything she once dreamed of—loving husbands, children, homes brimming with joy.
Even Elizabeth, unattached for now, had her whole life ahead of her.
The girl might even marry Michael once Josephine ended their engagement.
Josephine smiled and laughed with them, but deep down she knew she did not belong in their loving little circle—and the bitterness of that truth left a sour taste in her mouth.
No. She must not think that way. Their love for their spouses and children, their acceptance of people, regardless of background and past, is what made her new circle of friends unusual and special.
She had to push those unworthy feelings down, where they would never emerge to poison her friendships.
Meeting these ladies and their families was a good thing. Collaborating with them in their quest to help other women would help her heal her own wounds. Alice had also agreed to work with them, and the alacrity with which she had accepted made Josephine think she had her own personal motives.
Everything would be well, she would adapt to her life and accept her circumstances.
It was probably exhaustion making her feel this way.
For now, she just yearned to retreat to the solitude of the countryside.
To get lost in nature. And maybe find her way through the magnificent gardens of Michael’s estate.
Looking through the window, she fixed her attention on the peaceful scenery, watching as the village gave way to open fields, and then finally they passed the imposing towering gates of the ducal estate and turned down a charming driveway lined with trees that led to the majestic house.
Everything was just as she remembered it. The landscape, the sounds, the smells. It was as if time had stood still and she was going back twelve years. If only…
“I’m so nervous to face your mother.” The confession tore from her chest in a small voice.
“You shouldn’t be. My mother is happy to see you,” Michael reassured her.
She was not convinced. He might have prevailed on his mother to be civil to her, but the duchess must harbor some resentment. Even if it hadn’t been her fault, she had broken an engagement to her son.
“How can she be, after all that happened?” she asked in an anguished whisper.
Michael’s hand landed on top of hers. Warm, reassuring. Strong.
“I wrote to her and explained the circumstances of your disappearance.”
“Did you also tell her about us? That I intended to break my engagement to your brother? That we planned to elope together?”
Michael’s face shuttered. An admission of guilt.
“No. After you left, I saw no point in telling my family any of that. It would only cause more hurt, and I… I felt like the biggest dupe. I didn’t even show them the letter.
I asked your brother not to tell anyone about it, which I now understand why he was so happy to do, and simply told my parents that I had run into your brother in town and he told me you had eloped.
They must have confirmed the story with your family, but by then, I had gone back to the army. I’m so sorry, Josie.”
“I understand. Maybe that’s for the best. Less things to hold against me. What did you tell your mother now?”
“That your elopement was nothing but a falsehood spread by your brother to cover his own crimes. That you were kidnapped and have suffered a great deal. That you are blameless of any misconduct.”
“And what about our fake engagement now? Did you tell her the truth?”
His lips compressed in a line of displeasure. “It’s not a fake engagement. Stop calling it that. I’m in earnest about wanting to marry you. I told her I had asked you to marry me and you had accepted.”
“And she was agreeable to that? Even if she believes you now, she must have spent years hating me.”
He sighed. “My mother never held you in contempt for what transpired, even when we thought you had eloped. I think she mostly blamed herself for her role in arranging the engagement. She has never dared meddle in my life since that fiasco, even though I know she yearns for me to marry and produce heirs. If anything, I must warn you, she might be overly enthusiastic about the betrothal and the possibility of grandchildren,” Michael finished with a smile.
There it was again, that word.
Heirs.
It hurt like a knife to the heart. It was a reminder of his duty and her unsuitability. His words were meant to be reassuring, but they were the opposite. She was going to disappoint and hurt everyone again. He simply didn’t know it yet.
“Somehow, I knew I would find you here.”
Michael walked into the center of the maze, the familiarity of the image in front of him catapulting him back twelve years.
Josephine was standing in the small folly, wearing a gown very similar to the one she wore that fateful afternoon long ago.
As if time had ceased to have meaning and this maze existed in a magical realm separate from reality.
They had arrived at his estate an hour ago.
His mother had received Josephine with all the warmth and graciousness he had expected.
It went a long way to ease Josephine’s fears.
She now looked marginally more at ease, though not enough.
Her reticence was still firmly in place, separating them like a gossamer barrier.
Her coy smile made him want to tear through it.
“Maybe you followed me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to. It seems as if fate is determined to throw us together.”
“Only to tear us apart. I believe fate is a cruel entity.”
“Nothing can tear us apart now, except you.”
“Michael…”
“What, Josephine? You may say you don’t want me anymore. You may pretend there’s nothing between us now. But I know better.”
Her gaze skittered around the clearing like a nervous butterfly, landing everywhere but on him. “There’s nothing to be gained by bringing up ancient history.”
“It is not ancient history to me. And I think you are lying to yourself. Can you honestly tell me you are unaffected by my presence?” He stepped closer to her, noting the flaring of her nose, the widening of her eyes.
Slowly, as if approaching a skittish filly, he raised his hand to brush a silky strand of her hair behind her ear.
She didn’t move away. A victory of sorts.
A small one, but important. He understood tactics and strategy.
A war was not won in one day. It was a series of small victories that determined the ultimate outcome.
He would wage a campaign for her heart. He would not give up. He couldn’t.
His fingers brushed the delicate skin of her ear, and to his satisfaction, she shuddered.
But then her eyes flashed with annoyance, and she swatted at his hand.
Good. At least he was getting an honest response from her.
Anything was preferable to this detached despondency. “Do you think this is easy for me?”