Page 16 of A Duke to Undo her
“I’m not talking about marrying anyone!” Benedict remarked crossly. “Although sometimes, I think it would serve you right, ifI walked out into a London street, and married the first woman I encountered…”
Nerissa shook her head at both of them again but maintained her equanimity.
“No, I share your misgivings, Cassius. Unconventional minds can be a great liability, especially in women. Still, Benedict is young and some things are better learned through experience. Lady Josephine would not be a good wife for him but I am sure he will see this himself. In the meantime, there is no harm in friendship.”
“So, I have your blessing at least to continue calling on her?” Benedict asked his mother cautiously. “You at least must see that I need friends of my own temperament."
Duchess Nerissa shrugged.
“You are a grown man of two-and-twenty, Benedict, as you have reminded us. You do not need my blessing for anything. I have made it clear that I see any marriage between you and Lady Josephine as ill-judged. I ask only that you do nothing precipitate and get to know her well before you entertain any more serious notions.”
“That seems fair,” Benedict answered his parent with equal consideration and a still-irked glance at Cassius. “We have only met a handful of times, if that reassures you, Mother. It is only Cassius who makes me out to be somehow advanced in any sortof courtship. I have no desire to marry in haste, whether Lady Josephine or anyone else.”
“Good, I am very glad to hear that,” she responded with a smile. “Your father and I knew one another for two years before he proposed and we were betrothed almost another year before we married. Those three years meant that we could both be very sure of one another’s character and intentions.”
Cassius sipped his drink and reflected on his mother’s wise thinking and his brother’s more measured response to her reasonable request compared to his own peremptory edicts.
“Perhaps you are right, Mother,” the duke partly conceded. “There is much merit in what you say about allowing Benedict to learn his own lessons with regard to Lady Josephine.”
“In that case, I should like to include Lady Josephine and her sister in the Ashbourne Castle house party next month,” Benedict stated glibly, making Cassius’ jaw drop.
“Good God!” the duke exclaimed, almost dropping his glass at the thought of that willful and shapely young woman roaming the corridors, lawns and woods of his country estate in various states of dishevelment. “You can’t be serious about that, Benedict.”
Duchess Nerissa raised her eyebrow at his oath and pursed her lips as she formed her response.
“Isn’t it better that Benedict should get to know Lady Josephine under our direct supervision, Cassius? It will allow him to see her more clearly, while you will be able to set the agenda for each day of the party and will have more control over events than you do in London.”
“But I will have to see Lady Josephine every day,” the Duke of Ashbourne protested, running a hand through his already disordered hair and feeling his heart beating faster and more heavily at the very thought of this. “Every day for most of a week, every meal, every outing…”
“Oh, I am sure she is not such a trial as that, Cassius,” Nerissa laughed, this objection not sounding at all serious to her. “I shall speak to her sister Lady Elmridge and make sure Lady Josephine does not vex you, if that would help.”
“No,” Cassius said quickly, horrified at the idea of Lady Josephine learning the impact of her very presence and the advantage she might then possess in aggravating him all the more on purpose. “Say nothing of me to them, I beg you.”
“Do I have your agreement to include Lady Josephine in the house party, brother?” Benedict asked coolly. “It’s rather hard to tell.”
“Yes,” answered the duke reluctantly. “You may invite Lady Josephine, if you must. I only hope our mother is right that so much time together will bring you to your senses.”
It would either bring Benedict to his senses or drive Cassius himself out of his mind, the duke reflected silently to himself.
Chapter Eight
“What a lovely day for a garden party,” declared Vera, walking arm-in-arm with her husband down the front path of the Earl and Countess of Gordenford’s gardens on the edge of Chelsea. “Everyone is going to be here, I believe.”
Beside them Josephine nodded and smiled, twirling a parasol on the shoulder of her apple-green walking suit as her eyes scanned the crowds.
“The Gordenford garden party is always a popular occasion,” she observed, taking in the various tables, stands and gazebos visible around the grounds. “So many people, so many different colored dresses, so many interesting hats.”
“Interesting hats?!” Norman queried with a laugh. “What mischief are you about now, Josephine?”
His sister-in-law grinned conspiratorially.
“Well, as the Gordenford twins have been sent to stay with their grandparents this year and will not be lightening up proceedings, Mr. Emerton and I have invented a new game to amuse ourselves. Depending on a person’s outfit, we decide whether they are a flower, a fruit or an animal. It’s easier with ladies because their clothing is more interesting. Gentlemen with large mustaches are almost always just walruses.”
Vera choked back her laughter as a portly elderly gentleman with a particularly large mustache passed them and raised his hat just at this moment.
“That tall lady in coral by the oak tree down there is definitely a flamingo,” Josephine, “and the thin yellow-haired fellow beside her is a daffodil, even though he’s in grey. Now I see the Bishop of Leicester, all pink faced and squirmy. Perhaps he’s a worm, or a very squishy raspberry.”
“Dear me, Josephine, I’m not sure it’s a very well-mannered game,” Vera remarked, sharing a glance of concern with her husband, despite her amusement. “Someone could easily take offense.”
