Page 84 of The English Duke
“The seamstress will be here any moment. Tell her I’ll be with her shortly.”
The maid nodded and took herself off, leaving her to open the letter from Reese.
How dare he have the temerity to write her? He was still at Sedgebrook and would remain there for a little while, but he would be attending her wedding.
Did she know of any advances her sister had made on her ship?
What did she care about that stupid ship?
Another blessed benefit of her wedding. She would never have to listen to anyone talk about vessels or ships or engines or navigational systems. If Jordan thought to fill her ears with such topics, she’d simply eat her meals in another room or take a tray in her own sitting room.
She had no intention whatsoever of sharing a suite with her new husband. Not as large as Sedgebrook was. The idea of doing so was, frankly, revolting.
She needn’t see Jordan much. Perhaps she would live in London. As a married woman, she could travel to Paris. She would finally have her own maid, a French girl. Maman always said the best servants came from France.
Martha had made it so easy for her. Josephine didn’t even have to bed the duke right away. Of course, there was every possibility he would insist upon it sooner or later. She would have to bury her aversion and go to his bed. After all, she would be responsible for producing the next duke.
“Motherhood will destroy a woman’s body if she allows it,” Maman had once said. They’d been talking about a neighbor, a woman who’d had four children and had a figure resembling a bag of flour with a sash around the middle.
She had no intention of letting her looks go.
Not like Martha. She could be quite attractive if she applied herself. However, Martha was more inclined to putter around the cottage than she was to address her hair or her wardrobe.
At least she didn’t have to see Martha often once she was married. She needn’t pretend any longer. Other than compulsory family gatherings, when to do otherwise would draw attention, she could simply ignore the York family.
For now, she dismissed any thought of Martha or Jordan or Reese in favor of meeting with the seamstress. After all, she had a trousseau to plan, garments appropriate for her new role as duchess.
Reese found himself missing Josephine. Damned if he wasn’t sorry to see the minx leave. She was one of those women who burrowed into your skin, made you want to scratch an itch.
She’d never be docile. You could never take her for granted. He wasn’t sure you could ever trust her completely, either. If he had any sense at all, he’d forget about her and concentrate on his mission. Later, he’d see if he could find himself a decent woman with a sense of morals and values he was sure Josephine didn’t possess.
He’d written her but he wasn’t surprised when she hadn’t answered. She probably thought herself safe with her ruse, being so close to her wedding.
In five days he’d accompany Jordan to Griffin House and watch his friend get married.
He’d have a chance to see Josephine again before she became the Duchess of Roth. He hadn’t lied to her; he suspected she wouldn’t remain faithful after her marriage. A damn shame since Jordan wasn’t going to get the wife he probably deserved.
For that matter, he hadn’t gotten the friend he deserved, either.
Reese’s conscience was an annoying burden and one he tried hard to ignore most of the time. Lately, however, it was grating on him. Especially after witnessing how doggedly Jordan was trying to make a go of his torpedo ship.
Ever since the York women had left, he’d haunted the boathouse. When Reese went in search of him, it was the first place he looked.
This morning was no different.
“You might as well sleep here,” he said, seeing Jordan hunched over the workbench.
“There are two bedrooms upstairs,” Jordan said, without glancing at him. “I’ve used both of them from time to time. I’d recommend the east room. The mattress is firmer.”
He wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Jordan had used the boathouse as a hiding place, of sorts. He hadn’t gotten along well with his father, and there were enough years between him and Simon that they were almost strangers.
Jordan didn’t collect people like his older brother had. Nor did people want to surround Jordan the way they had the 10th Duke of Roth. He’d heard Jordan described as icy and aloof when the truth was that Jordan was bored by things that interested most people.
He had no interest in gambling, since one of the first discoveries after becoming the Duke of Roth was how much of the family fortune had been decimated over the past two decades. He wasn’t fond of horses, especially after his accident. He didn’t drink to excess. Cards didn’t interest him. Nor was he adept at social chatter. He didn’t give a flying farthing about the weather or the politics of the day.
Talk to him about the Crimean War, however, one of the things he’d studied in depth, and he could talk your ear off.
Moving to the workbench, Reese watched as Jordan fiddled with a small flat object in the rear of the vessel that had recently been recovered from the bottom of the lake. Not only had the copper changed color, but there was a black sludge covering the interior mechanisms.
