Chapter 9 #2
“No, Father,” Jude replied. “I stopped at White’s.”
His father’s frown deepened. “I would have preferred you not waste time dilly-dallying at your club. We have a ball to attend this evening—Lady Penning’s.”
Jude started towards the stairs. “Yes. I am aware. I’ll go change.”
The duke folded his arms. “Just like that?”
Jude paused on the first step and looked over his shoulder. “You expected something different?”
“I expected an argument,” his father said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You rarely concede so easily.”
“Well,” Jude responded, “I am full of surprises this evening.” He inclined his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I should prepare.”
He had only taken a few more steps before his father’s voice halted him again. “Tell me something, Jude.”
Jude stopped, one hand gripping the banister.
“Did you find what you were looking for in that cottage?” the duke asked, his tone holding compassion.
A flicker of warmth stirred in Jude’s chest, unbidden. Josephine’s face came to him again, and he almost smiled.
“I did, Father,” he said. Then without waiting for a reply, he ascended the rest of the stairs.
Dressed in a silver gown with a delicate net overlay embroidered in pale pink blossoms, Josephine descended the grand staircase. The candlelight from the chandelier above caught the beadwork on her bodice, casting little sparks of light along the walls.
Her mother and brother waited in the entry hall. The moment her slipper touched the marble floor, her mother clasped her hands together and gasped.
“Oh! You look lovely, my dear. Doesn’t she, Alexander?”
Alexander barely spared her a glance. “I suppose she will do.”
Josephine arched a brow. Well, that was generous for him.
“She will more than do,” her mother corrected, moving forward to assess Josephine from shoes to coiffure. “That dress is exquisite on her. She will be the belle of the ball. Perhaps the queen will name her the diamond of the Season now.”
Josephine winced at the very idea, but Alexander muttered under his breath, “I doubt it.”
Their mother’s frown deepened. “Alexander, say something nice to your sister.”
“What would you have me say?”
“Tell her that she looks beautiful.”
He smirked, folding his arms. “I wouldn’t want to lie to her.”
Their mother wasn’t amused. “I wish you would be kinder to your sister.”
Josephine lifted a hand in dismissal. “Do not bother on my account. I would prefer the truth rather than false flattery.”
“Exactly.” Alexander shrugged. “Besides, Josephine isn’t entirely misfortunate-looking. I am sure a blind man would find her very appealing.”
“You are impossible!” Josephine said.
“You asked for the truth, did you not?”
“I would prefer you said nothing at all,” she retorted, placing a hand on her hip, “considering you aren’t married either.”
“Yes, but I am working on that,” Alexander said proudly. “I am pursuing the lovely Lady Gwendolyn Rollins.”
Her lips parted in horror. “Why would you ever pursue her? She is awful. Just awful.”
“She is beautiful.”
“Is that all you care about in a wife?”
“What else matters?”
“A great deal!” Josephine insisted. “Kindness? Good sense? The ability to speak without insulting everyone in the room?”
Alexander waved this away. “You exaggerate.”
“You are going to marry her and be utterly miserable,” Josephine warned. “And I shall stand by and laugh.”
“At least our children will be smart and beautiful.”
She laughed. “Not with you as a father.”
Their mother stepped firmly between them. “Both of you are behaving like children. Why can’t you act your age?”
“Josephine started it,” Alexander said with a smug tilt of his head.
“And I am going to end it,” their mother declared, turning towards the main door with purposeful strides. “Come along. We have a ball to attend.”
The butler approached with three masks laid neatly on a silver tray.
Josephine lifted hers. A plume of tall pink feathers swept dramatically upward, one feather so long it nearly curled before her. “Why does my mask have so many feathers?”
“To hide as much of your face as possible,” Alexander said.
“Goodness, no,” their mother huffed. “It is to hide the stitches on your forehead.”
“But won’t people see them during the unveiling?” Josephine asked anxiously.
“Smart,” Alexander said as he opened the door. “You should keep your mask on all night so as not to frighten children.”
“Was that truly necessary?” their mother asked him sternly.
“It was for me,” he said, his tone unapologetic. “But in seriousness, Josephine, we don’t need people asking questions about your injury.”
Josephine stepped out into the crisp night air, pulling the ridiculous mask to her face. A feather drooped immediately into her line of sight and she blew at it with irritation. “This is a terrible mask.”
“I designed it myself,” her mother revealed.
Josephine grimaced and climbed into the coach. “Perhaps I should simply remain home this evening.”
“Absolutely not!” her mother declared, settling across from her. “We are going to the ball and acting like the happy, functional family we are.”
“But we aren’t,” Josephine mumbled. “I can barely tolerate Alexander.”
“The feeling is mutual, Sister,” he said with a wink as he settled beside her.
Their mother sighed dramatically. “Everyone told me to have children. They said it would be fun.”
Alexander leaned back. “I would have been perfectly content as an only child,” he said.
“You two used to be thick as thieves,” their mother reminded them. “You would build forts out of bedsheets and sleep in them together for a week straight.”
The memory warmed Josephine’s chest. “I remember. Father would crawl inside with us until his back started to ache on the hard floor.”
“It was a simpler time,” their mother murmured wistfully.
“It was a time when my brother would have believed me,” Josephine added pointedly.
“Oh, bother,” their mother groaned. “Must we rehash this now?”
Alexander brushed an invisible speck from his coat. “I will speak to Mr. Broderick once he returns to Town. Until then, I reserve judgment.”