Page 77 of The English Duke
“If anyone is to blame for what happened, it’s probably me,” the older woman continued.
“What do you mean?”
Gran sighed again, stretched out one hand toward Hero and wiggled her fingers at the cat. He disregarded her summons with some disdain, seeking out the dwindling square of sunlight.
“I thought, if we remained here for a time, you and he would form some kind of attachment.”
“You feigned illness,” Martha said.
Gran smiled lightly. “I didn’t feign fatigue. I’ve found the last few days relaxing.”
She wasn’t the least surprised about Gran’s confession, but her father’s thoughts had been a revelation.
“What did Josephine do?”
The idea that occurred to her was so wrong that she was willing to irritate her grandmother in order to verify it.
“Did she go to the duke’s room?” she asked.
Her grandmother’s look was a combination of discomfort and annoyance.
“How did you know? Did Josephine tell you?” Gran shook her head again. “I would have thought she’d have more sense than to brag about her foolishness.”
Josephine’s treachery sat like acid in her stomach. She shouldn’t have been surprised that her sister had manipulated the situation to her advantage, but she was. Josephine had put herself in Martha’s place, leaving Jordan with no other option.
“And the duke offered for her,” she said. “Because it was the honorable thing to do.”
Martha was so certain she was right that her grandmother’s reluctant nod was anticlimactic.
He hadn’t known it was her in his bed. He hadn’t known. Which was worse? Realizing what Josephine had done? Or that Jordan had been too sotted to know which sister had been in his bed?
“We’ll be leaving in the morning?” she asked, sliding from the bed. Dear God, she couldn’t wait to get home, to leave this place, to put Sedgebrook and the Duke of Roth behind her.
Her grandmother nodded again.
The sharp look Gran gave her was a warning. She forced a smile to her lips.
“It will be good to get home,” she said, moving to the door.
“Is something wrong, Martha?” Gran asked.
She shook her head. “I’m feeling a little nauseous,” she said, which wasn’t a falsehood. “In the meantime, I’ll take dinner in my room. Perhaps a good night’s sleep is all I need.”
“I do hope you’re not sickening with something,” Gran said, her look troubled.
“Nothing that going home won’t cure.”
Once again, she smiled, the effort more difficult than Gran would ever understand.
Chapter 22
Martha didn’t go down to dinner and thankfully no one came to the door urging her to be sociable. She heard laughter from far away and wanted to hate the person who was so filled with joy.
Above all, she didn’t want to see Josephine.
When Sedgebrook settled down for the night she left her room, intent on the Duchess’s Garden.
Moonlight spilled over the brick wall, casting shadows over the rosebushes, making them appear like shrouded, hulking figures. If she had been more imaginative, perhaps she might have felt a little unease. But nothing could be more disturbing than the tenor of her thoughts.
