Chapter Thirty-One
Josie’s lessons had not prepared her for the veritable color explosion.
She had little knowledge of fancy flowers, but she suspected that the delicate petals meant these particular blooms were exotic.
It must have taken dozens of gardeners to grow the various shades of pink, purple, white, and yellow blossoms. Even more seamstresses had to have been employed to design and sew all of the pastel gowns.
Perhaps emerald had been an unfashionable choice since the other women wore spring colors, and yet, Josie loved her gown.
The modiste had designed it for her, and Nicolas had given up his prized possession to purchase it.
The delight on his face when she descended the stairs would forever be imprinted in her mind.
The second she’d seen him peering up at her, his cravat the same bright shade of blue as his eyes, her belly had turned somersaults. It was still tumbling uncontrollably since he stood beside her, the tinkling sounds of the orchestra floating around them.
Agatha leaned close to whisper in Josie’s ear. “Close your mouth, dear, lest you slobber on your lovely attire.”
Josie clamped her lips together.
Agatha inclined her chin toward Lady Siddons who stood across the room talking with a group of ladies. “I will let Helena know we are here so that she can make introductions.” Agatha gracefully glided away.
“I’m thirsty.” Bridget clasped Isabelle’s hand. “Let us get some ratafia and mayhap some cakes. We shall try not to upturn any tables today.” She giggled.
Nicolas winced.
Elbows linked, the two women left Josie and Nicolas alone in a room of hundreds. Looking quite sheepish, Jonathon had disappeared seconds after the herald announced their arrival.
Nicolas stepped closer, and Josie’s belly flipped faster. “Remember, get Tristan to walk you to the study. I shall be there waiting for you.”
As was the case at a mill, once she showed up, she was furiously ready. Josie nodded.
“Whatever you do, do not let him take you anywhere else. He is my friend, but the man is a rogue of the worst sort.”
Josie had no intention of being alone with the duke because if he made an unwelcome advance, she’d have to knock out his teeth. Ironically, that might be an effective method of convincing him she was a worthy pugilist.
“Lydia and her parents are here,” Nicolas said. “I can see them over the crowd.”
Josie snarled, then quickly composed herself.
“Simply avoid them,” he said. “If they get close, head in the other direction. That is what I intend to do.”
With all of this energy coursing through her, if Lydia approached, she might end up at the end of Josie’s fist. Wouldn’t that be grand? The past few weeks of curtsying and etiquette lessons would be to no purpose. Josie had to keep her temper in check.
Nicolas cleared his throat. “Here comes Agatha with Lady Siddons.”
Helena Siddons approached and kissed Josie on the cheek. “Josephine, Nicolas, I’m delighted to see you.”
“’Tis always a pleasure,” Nicolas said, the epitome of a well-bred gentleman.
“Josephine, come along. I shall introduce you to my nephew.” Lady Siddons clasped Josie’s hand. Leading her away from Nicolas and Agatha, she escorted her through the crowd.
“The Smalls are here with their intolerable daughter.” Lady Siddons swerved and steered Josie around the outside of the room.
“’Tis as if they are waiting to pounce on me.
That family has been a flock of vultures, even before I had to give Lydia a stern talking to for her behavior at our gathering the other day. ”
Why invite the baron and his family if she didn’t like them? Since it was her party, couldn’t Lady Siddons invite whomever she wanted? Josie would never understand aristocrats.
As they approached the far end of the ballroom, Tristan came into view.
His ginger hair stood out like a rose in a field of daisies.
He towered over the men surrounding him.
His massive arms looked as if they might tear the seams of his tailcoat, and his waistcoat buttons strained against the impressive muscles hidden beneath his fine clothing.
His blue eyes twinkled at their approach. “Please excuse me, gentlemen. I believe my aunt requires my attention.” He stepped away from his associates and kissed Lady Siddons on the cheek. “You have outdone yourself, Aunt Helena.”
She surveyed her ballroom. “I have, haven’t I?”
His chuckle was warm and deep, and had Josie not been in love with another man, she might find the duke appealing.
“Tristan, I would like to introduce you to the Davenport’s cousin, Miss Josephine Martin. Josephine, my nephew Tristan Keats, the Duke of Griffendale.”
“Pleased to meet you, Josephine Martin.” His lids hung heavy over his blue eyes as he took Josie’s hand in his. Surely, his lips lingered on her knuckle longer than appropriate.
“’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” Josie said.
“If you are not yet spoken for, may I have the next dance?” he asked.
Josie stared down at the blank dance card hanging from her wrist. In her excitement, she’d forgotten to have Nicolas and Jonathon sign it.
The duke held it up, studied it, and wrinkled his brow. “How is it that the most beautiful woman in the room has no dance partners?”
“Um… I… I just arrived,” Josie said. What an utterly ridiculous response.
Before Josie had a chance to remove her pencil from her reticule, the duke pulled one from his pocket and scratched his name over the entire card.
Josie glared at his signature. “I thought we could only dance two times.”
Egad! Why had she said that out loud? She sounded like an inexperienced miss who had no idea how to behave at a ball except for what she’d been taught at recent etiquette lessons.
Lady Siddons placed her hand on the duke’s shoulder. “Tristan, as utterly ridiculous as the rules are, do behave. While you are dancing, I shall get Josephine a new card.”
“Take your time,” the duke called to his aunt as she strolled away. He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Interestingly, the duke’s brash manners set Josie at ease. There was no pretense with him. The man was as transparent as a spider web. He was accustomed to getting what he wanted, and at the moment, he wanted her, which was precisely what she needed for their plan to work.
When the next song started, Josie was already in his arms, swirling. His beard scratched her cheek, and his breath blew across her ear as he again told her she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
Since it would not do to insult him right before she asked him to grant her two favors, she held her tongue and did not mention that his rakish reputation suited him.
Halfway through their dance, she placed her hand on his broad chest and tossed her lessons to the wind. “Your Grace, I find myself dizzy and overwhelmed. Could we find a quiet place where I may rest and catch my breath? Lady Siddons mentioned she has a private study.”
His grin was positively lecherous.
“Of course, Josephine.” Resting his palm on the small of her back, in what she was certain was an indecent touch, he escorted her from the ballroom.
Where in the devil was Nicolas, and why had he left her alone with a feral duke?
For the second time since arriving at the study, Josie ducked beneath his arm and pivoted out of his reach.
A less athletic woman might not be able to evade a man this large and determined.
Fortunately for her, she was an expert at playing defense.
Unfortunately for him, there was a very good chance she might blacken both of his pretty blue eyes.
His legs were so long that with one deep lunge, he backed her into a corner.
She placed her fist on his hard-as-stone stomach. “I’m prepared to use it, I am.”
He waggled his eyebrow as if engaged in horseplay. “Lucky me. A punch to the breadbasket from the beautiful Jabbing Josie is every man’s fantasy.” He lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back.
Had she heard him correctly? Had he just called her by her fighting name?
He winked.
She dropped her arms, letting her limp wrists hang by her side. “You know who I am?”
“From the second I saw you enter my aunt’s ballroom. Of course, I was expecting you. May I say, as lovely as you are with your fists flying, you are even more beautiful in that gown.”
The dashed man had been toying with her this entire time. “And still…” She threw her hands in the air. “You chased me around the room as if you were a starving rat and I was a piece of cheese.”
He laughed so hard that tears dripped from his eyes. “I had no intention of taking advantage of you. I just wanted to see how long it took for you to tell me the truth.”
“I would have taken away your ability to produce an heir before I let you take advantage of me,” she said, meaning it whole-heartedly.
“The truth is, I am here to convince you that I should be your champion for the Duke’s and Dame’s Mill.
Ruth the Jewel is a charlatan and a cheat.
She can’t beat Lady Paulsgrove.” Josie rested her hands on her hips.
“But since you were expecting me, I suppose you already know this.”
“Actually, I did not know. However, after the last few days, I was hoping. Let us have a seat and discuss the matter.” He guided her to a large desk that dominated the room. He hiked his hip onto the corner of the ancient piece and invited her to sit in the chair across from him.
The duke had just contradicted himself. He didn’t know why she was there, but he’d expected her? And what event in the last few days was he referencing? Utterly nonplussed, she sat and stared at him expectantly.
“It seems like there were easier ways to get my attention than showing up here pretending to be something you are not,” he said.
Of course there was an easier way, but the Widow of Whitehall had made a buffoonery out of Josie and Nicolas’s lives.