Page 26 of The English Duke
She glanced at her grandmother.
“She seems quite taken with Sedgebrook,” Martha said.
She’d known, ever since she was a girl, that where Josephine was concerned, she always came second place. Josephine’s needs came first.
As a child she used to be afraid of thunderstorms until Josephine awoke terrified. Everyone in the household flocked to her room to comfort her. Occasionally, one of the maids would notice that she was standing in her doorway wishing she wasn’t alone. She’d learned to depend on herself. Her father had often commented that she was the most self-reliant female he knew.
She never told him why.
Another lesson she learned because of Josephine: she might call Marie mother, but it was all too evident that she wasn’t Marie’s child.
Her father, poor dear, was always more concerned with his experiments than he was his household. Occasionally, he would ask Martha if she was happy and she would always answer yes.
When Gran came to live with them about five years ago, everything changed. She had a feeling that she had an ally, even though Gran had never said such a thing. She had, however, overheard her grandmother say a few unflattering things about Marie.
When Marie had left Griffin House for the entertainments of Paris, Gran had let slip her dislike.
“Perhaps I’m being too hard on her. If she hadn’t been so greedy, Matthew probably would never have married again. She was aggressive, like a hunter who sees a wounded fawn. She went after him and he had no chance from the beginning.”
She’d been surprised at her grandmother’s revelations. Now she wondered if Gran knew Josephine had also inherited Marie’s acquisitive nature. When Josephine wanted something woe to the person who tried to stop her.
Before she could confide further in her grandmother, the door opened and Josephine swept into the room. Her color was high, but her hair was perfect, as was her appearance. Josephine could walk through a mud puddle and emerge immaculate.
“Sedgebrook is simply glorious,” she said in greeting. “Every room has something to recommend it. The duchess’s sitting room alone will make you sigh. Everything is upholstered in a pale peach silk with tiny flowers embroidered on it. I understand it comes from France, of course. The walls are upholstered in the same peach silk. I wouldn’t change a thing in the room.”
Martha stared at her sister, uncertain whether to be aghast or embarrassed.
“How did you find out the fabric came from France? Did you ask the housekeeper?”
Josephine waved one hand toward Martha as if her questions were foolish.
“Of course not. Simply one of the upstairs maids. A knowledgeable girl. I had her unlock the Conservatory for me so I could see the inside of it.”
No, she was both embarrassed and aghast.
“You can’t simply go traipsing through Sedgebrook as if you own it,” she said.
Josephine glanced at her and smiled. Someone else might interpret it as a sweet or maybe even a condescending expression. But she knew her sister well enough to know it signified something else. Josephine had something planned.
“I don’t think you should...” she began, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.
She expected it to be Amy, returning with another plate of biscuits, but instead, the duke stood there. He’d put on a jacket and was no longer attired in just a white shirt and black trousers. She preferred him in more casual dress, but regardless of what he wore, he was a strikingly handsome man.
He stood there for a moment, looking at Gran and Josephine. For some reason, he didn’t look at her as he took a few steps into the room, his slow progress making her heart ache. Josephine, thankfully, found the view from the window suddenly fascinating. Gran, however, was studying the duke with sharp eyes.
“His Grace has a boathouse set up almost like Father’s cottage,” Martha blurted out, uncomfortable with the silence.
She’d intended to draw her grandmother’s attention. Instead, she succeeded with her sister. Josephine’s head whipped around so fast it seemed to be mounted on a swivel.
“It’s quite large,” Martha continued. “He has a great deal more space than the cottage.”
“You’ve been busy,” Josephine said, the words so soft she knew they were meant only for her.
“You mustn’t mind Martha, Your Grace. She was Father’s assistant. I can’t tell you how many times she could be found up to her waist in the muck when she was tinkering with one of his machines.”
The duke studied Josephine for a moment, his face expressionless. Instead of answering her, he glanced at Gran.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. York?”
