Page 59 of The English Duke
She hadn’t explored Sedgebrook like Josephine. She reasoned, however, that Jordan’s suite would be among the larger bedchambers in the house, which meant they’d be at the end of the wing. There was no room at the end of this corridor, so she kept walking. Thankfully, she didn’t encounter any servants as she passed the staircase and entered the other wing, coming to a set of double doors.
She tapped on the right door, but no one answered.
Her sister had behaved with forethought, determination, and cunning. But she doubted Josephine would be punished for this act or anything else. People like her sister never were. Instead, they were given excuses, their bad behavior accepted or brushed away.
As she waited, her fear turned to anger. She couldn’t help but recall all those moments when Josephine had gotten away with something egregious. The excuses ran the gamut:It’s because she’s so much younger than you, Martha. It’s because Matthew rarely notices her. It’s because she’s half-French. It’s because she has a less serious nature.
What excuse would people give for Josephine’s behavior tonight? She couldn’t imagine one that made any sense, other than:It’s because Josephine was greedy. It’s because Josephine saw something she wanted and she went after it.
At another time, in another circumstance, she might have admired her sister’s single-minded determination, but not now.
The duke wouldn’t marry her; she knew that. Regardless of Josephine’s behavior, it wouldn’t result in her becoming the Duchess of Roth. Instead, her actions were certain to ruin her and cause gossip to swirl around the family.
Her stomach felt as if it was twisted in knots. Another emotion to lay at Josephine’s feet. She didn’t know if she was more afraid than she was angry or more angry than afraid.
She knocked again, her stomach churning.
Dear God, please help me do this.
Would God understand? Would He send a lightning bolt to strike them both, the sinning sister and the one who wanted to sin? What was worse? To feel envy? Or be bubbling with resentment against Josephine?
What was she going to say when the duke answered the door?
Is my sister here?
Have you seduced her yet?
She prayed the right words would come to her when he opened the door.
Except he didn’t.
Finally, she pushed down on the latch and entered the duke’s suite.
The sitting room was illuminated by a gas lamp and, like the guest chambers, was adorned with a mural. This one took up the whole of the far wall and portrayed scenes of Rome she recognized from stereoscope pictures of the city.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
Please, don’t let them be in the bedroom, so occupied in their actions they didn’t hear her.Could anything be worse than that?
Taking a few steps toward the closed door, she wondered if it was wise to continue. Wondering, too, in a self-examination proving to be acutely painful, if she was here because of sisterly loyalty or womanly jealousy.
It might be a little of both.
She crossed the room until she stood in front of the door. She was trembling as she gripped the handle. A moment later she drew back her hand, her heart pounding so loudly she thought anyone on the other side of the door could hear it.
She said a prayer, not unlike the ones she’d uttered earlier.Please, don’t let her be here.She was nearly sick to her stomach when she grabbed the handle again and made herself open the door.
The room was dark.
She didn’t advance, merely stood in the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
No one demanded she leave. No stern ducal voice questioned her presence.
The relief she felt at the sight of the empty bed, turned down for the night, was so overwhelming she was nearly faint.
Josephine wasn’t here. Neither was the duke. She needn’t explain anything. She didn’t need to save Josephine. Thoughts she had for the expanse of only a few seconds, no more than that. The sound of a door opening sent her catapulting back into panic.
