Page 28 of The English Duke
“There’s no other way to reach the stables.”
“I’m not going to the stables,” Josephine said, stopping in the middle of the path. “We were going to the boathouse.”
“We have to go to the stables first,” Martha said, trying to push back her irritation. “I have to move Father’s crates.”
Josephine grabbed her skirts and mumbled something under her breath. Martha caught only a few words, but it was enough to make her frown at her sister.
“It’s no good complaining,” she said. “I’m responsible for Father’s work.”
“Not anymore,” Josephine said. “You’ve given it to the duke and it’s his now.”
She didn’t bother trying to explain what had happened. Her sister simply didn’t care and attempting to make her understand would be a waste of time and effort.
Frederick had told her a footman would meet her at the stall and she could direct him to load the material into a handcart, the better to transport it to the boathouse. She hadn’t, however, thought Josephine would be following her, punctuating every step with another complaint.
The smell was horrid.
The flies were abominable.
You would think Josephine had never been around horses before when it was just the opposite. She rode every day, taking one of her three favorite horses out around Griffin House. Josephine never rode with a companion, saying no one could keep up with her. Martha wasn’t as good a horsewoman as her sister. She respected horses, but she could go for a long time without riding one.
Once inside the stables Josephine stopped to admire one of the duke’s stallions. Martha glanced at the name above the stall: Ercole.
“Aren’t you a beauty?” Josephine said, rubbing the horse’s nose.
Martha continued on to the stall, catching sight of both the stablemaster and a young man in dark blue livery.
“His Grace said to bring everything, Miss York,” the older man said. “Is there anything we should start with?”
She nodded, directing them to which crates she wanted loaded first.
Grabbing a small bag packed with the most recent notes she’d taken, she put it atop the handcart—a wagon pulled by a human being rather than a horse. Once the cart was filled, she followed the footman, a young man by the name of Ben, with bright red hair, a freckled face, and a pleasant smile, out of the stables and down the path to the boathouse.
Josephine had rejoined her by this time and was raving about the duke’s horses.
“I’m going to ride that stallion,” she said.
“You didn’t bring your habit,” Martha said. A second later she looked at her sister. “You didn’t, did you?”
“If I did?”
She didn’t know what to say. Had both Josephine and her grandmother planned for this visit to be something other than what she’d anticipated? This trip to Sedgebrook had been to carry out her father’s wishes, not to parade Josephine in front of the duke.
She wasn’t feeling betrayed as much as irritated by both her relatives.
“You’re going to have to remain silent while we’re working,” she said.
Josephine didn’t say anything, only sent her a quick look. She noted, however, that Josephine was also checking her appearance as they walked.
The dress her sister was wearing was a lovely blue on white print, the sash at her waist a matching blue. Her hat had a large brim to better shade her complexion from the sun and was secured by a ribbon Josephine had tied to one side under her chin.
She couldn’t help but wonder how many dresses Josephine had packed. The original plan was to stay overnight at an inn after delivering the wagon to Sedgebrook. She’d brought only one additional dress, the pale lavender garment she’d worn this morning. Nor had she bothered grabbing her bonnet before leaving the house. A bonnet only made her hair worse. Nothing would stop it from curling, especially being so close to the water.
She was being silly, almost like Josephine in wanting male approbation. Her sister flirted with every man in sight, even the tradesmen who appeared at Griffin House. Was it something she’d learned or inherited from her mother? Marie had been the same, exceptionally charming, but more so toward men.
It was as if she developed a separate personality when dealing with males. She’d seen Josephine change when a man walked into a room. The effect was startling and disconcerting. She was left wondering exactly which person was actually Josephine.
She had no doubt her sister would spend the whole time at the boathouse flirting with the duke. He would, no doubt, allow himself to be charmed like all of Josephine’s conquests.
