Page 122 of The English Duke
“What do you mean there isn’t going to be a wedding?”
When Josephine tilted her chin up like that and narrowed her eyes, she lost all pretense of prettiness. Her face grew hard, almost old. He wondered what she would look like as she aged. Almost a crone, nearly witchlike—especially if her character was anything to go by.
“We both know it wasn’t you in my bed that night at Sedgebrook,” he said.
“Does it matter now? The whole of England knows we’re about to marry. Would you cause a scandal?”
If she’d asked the question of him a year ago, the answer might have been different. Honor had been a watchword, a definition of his character, perhaps. Now he knew that honor wasn’t enough. It might define his life in some narrow fashion, but he also wanted more.
He never wanted to experience the past year again, feeling adrift and isolated from others, alone in his anguish and knowing only his will kept him going.
His servants respected him because he found a way to pay their wages and they were, perhaps, in awe of their surroundings. His London acquaintances liked the fact he’d become a duke. The hangers-on clung to him for any referred power they could attain. Little did they know he didn’t wield any power. Not even the ability to keep himself upright without limping.
Even Reese had used him.
There was only one person who’d offered him boundless friendship with no conditions. She’d given up her knowledge selflessly. She wanted nothing from him. In fact, she’d effortlessly excused his behavior, granting him understanding and compassion he hadn’t deserved.
What he felt for Martha was different and special, something he’d never before experienced. He’d admired certain women in his past, but he’d never thought one of them might hold his future happiness in the curve of her palm.
He wanted to be happy. He wanted someone to appreciate his work. He was, damn it, more than his role as the Duke of Roth, more than the sum of his ancestors. He was himself, alone and individual. He wanted to be important to someone, not because a great house had been entailed to him. Not because he bore a title. Not even because he had a mind lending itself well to invention and discovery. He drew breath. He lived, therefore he mattered.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “It matters. I’m not going to marry you, Josephine. Not now. Not ever.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jordan. You can’t beg off now.”
He studied her, noted the pursing of her lips, the frown line already beginning to show between her eyes. Was she going to stomp her feet in a tantrum? Throw herself to the ground, shrieking and tearing at her hair? He could almost envision her doing exactly that.
“Yes, I can,” he said. “And I am.”
“What are you going to do, Jordan? Leave everyone sitting in the church waiting for me?”
He’d already made plans. Whatever the payment was for escaping this marriage, he’d do it and willingly. In addition, the honorable thing was to offer to offset any of the Yorks’ expenses of this wedding, although how he was going to pay the bill he had no idea.
“My reputation will be in tatters,” she said. “I’ll be known as the woman the Duke of Roth spurned.”
“You should have considered your reputation before you lied, Josephine. I’m sure you’ve always gotten your way,” he added, certain of it. “Just not in this instance.”
He turned and walked away, heading toward the stables. The sooner he got to the church, the better.
Chapter 35
Gran and Amy sat opposite her in the carriage while Sarah had remained behind to assist Josephine in her final preparations.
All the way to the church, the carriage wheels rolled along the road, singing a refrain echoing in Martha’s mind.
No more.
No more.
No more.
She had to do something. She could not allow this marriage to continue. She didn’t care how she did it, but she was going to stop this ceremony. Jordan deserved better. He deserved his share of happiness, too.
Inside, Josephine was hollow, the space filled up with possessions, acquisitions, and a sense of power she’d cultivated ever since she was a young girl. Although she now spurned the relationship, she was a York, and it brought enough attention on its own. Plus, she was ethereally beautiful. She could charm any man she wanted and did, if it suited her purpose.
But being wealthy and beautiful was not justification for destroying a man’s life. Martha knew, without a doubt, that that’s exactly what Josephine would do.
Somehow she had to stop her, even if it meant acting the fool. Even if it meant bringing the brunt of society’s disapproval down around her head.
