Page 90 of The English Duke
The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Josephine. In a matter of days he’d have a lifetime with her. The thought made him wish he hadn’t declined the whiskey.
“Then I’ll let you get settled and we’ll all meet each other at dinner. Like you, we keep country hours.”
Another few moments of conversation made him grateful for Reese’s command of a hundred different topics. His were limited to the scientific journals he’d recently read or the correspondence he’d exchanged with friends in London.
Reese knew about current events, fashion trends, and, most important, gossip. He and Mrs. York talked companionably like two middle-aged women.
“Oh, but we’re boring you,” Mrs. York finally said, glancing at him.
Evidently, he hadn’t been able to hide what he was feeling. Either that, or Mrs. York was extraordinarily perceptive. He had a feeling it was a combination of the two.
She stood. “We have you in the Queen’s Rooms,” she said. “A project of my husband’s. He invited Queen Victoria to come and visit after they were finished.”
“Did she?” Reese asked.
She smiled brightly. “Yes, she did, but only once. She came with her entire brood on the way back from Scotland.” Turning to Jordan who’d also stood, she said, “But since there isn’t any hope of her making another visit, poor thing, I feel safe in placing you there, Your Grace.”
He said something innocuous, one of those tedious phrases he’d had to learn as a child. He was adept at those—saying nothing while saying something, appearing pleasant and conformable while wishing you were anywhere but where you were.
As his eyes swept up and around Griffin House’s curving staircase, he realized climbing those steps was going to be a challenge.
“If you wish, Your Grace,” Mrs. York said in a whisper, “I can convert one of the parlors to your use. It would mean not having to mount the steps.”
He was damned if he was going to sleep in one of the parlors. He’d master Griffin House’s stairs or die in the attempt. At least, then, he wouldn’t have to marry Josephine York.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the Queen’s Rooms,” he said, taking the first step.
Chapter 26
As they waited in the parlor for Martha to join them for dinner, Susan was doing everything in her power to dispel the tension in the room.
A stranger coming upon their group would have thought Reese was Josephine’s fiancé. He laughed at her quips. His gaze was appreciative and he solicited answers from her by asking inventive and complementary questions. Jordan, on the other hand, rarely spoke.
“How was your journey?” Josephine asked, batting her eyelashes at the duke.
Jordan didn’t seem entranced by Josephine’s flirtatious behavior. Ever since the man arrived it was obvious he didn’t want to be at Griffin House.
Right now his bearing was as stiff as it had been this afternoon. His shoulders were straight and rigid beneath his black suit, almost as if a board was strapped to his back. His right leg was stretched out before him. Near one perfectly polished shoe was the end of the walking stick he was using. His hand was clasped around the top, so tightly Susan could see his white knuckles.
He hadn’t smiled since Josephine had appeared a few minutes earlier, greeting him with a high-pitched—and strangely annoying—laugh.
Reese Burthren was much more personable, addressing himself to Susan with a distinctive charm before greeting Josephine.
Susan had the feeling Jordan was pretending Josephine wasn’t sitting opposite him attired in one of her new gowns, this one a dark green to set off her lovely eyes.
Josephine was difficult to ignore when she was attempting to be charming. The girl had a way about her, especially around men. She made the butcher stutter and the gardeners blush. Nor were the footmen exempt. Many times she watched the hunger in a man’s gaze as he followed her granddaughter’s walk across a room.
Jordan was proving to be an exception, however. Josephine might as well be one of the upholstered footstools.
Amy entered the room, giving the duke a perfectly executed curtsy. She could always depend on Amy for being proper.
Where was Martha? They couldn’t go into dinner until she appeared.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” Amy said before turning to her. “Miss Martha sends her apologies, ma’am. She says she’ll be here as soon as possible.”
“Where is she, Amy?”
“In her room, ma’am, but she’s just returned from the cottage.”
