Page 18 of A Duke to Undo her
“What is there to understand?” said the duke rather gruffly, fixing her with his deep blue eyes. “Perhaps, I only want to see what will happen when he has a surfeit of your company. Now, I suggest you return to the party before you are missed by your chaperones. We both know perfectly well that you should not be here with me.”
Only made angrier by this laconic answer and attempt to dismiss her from his presence like some underling, Josephine glared at the duke with her hands on her hips.
“You hope to make Mr. Emerton to see me in the same way that you see me – is that it? Well, that isn’t going to happen.”
As in the hallway at Lord and Lady Kemp’s house, the Duke of Ashbourne seemed to square up to Josephine in response to her defiance, his tall, imposing form looming over her.
“You can have no idea how I see you, Lady Josephine,” he said in a low voice that was almost a growl. “Absolutely none, or you would not be here.”
“I think your sentiments entirely evident from your expression, your words and your actions,” Josephine railed at him, her eyes flashing angrily and a strange heat rising not just in her cheeks but her chest and her belly too.
She wondered for a moment if she was growing a fever. That would not be convenient at this point in the Season.
“Your face tells me a story too. You look at me as though you hate me, Lady Josephine,” the duke accused her in return.
“Maybe I do hate you, Your Grace,” she snapped at him, feeling again all the same strange sensations he had excited in her that night in the hallway.
It was not a fever after all, but some peculiar effect aroused only by the Duke of Ashbourne. Was this really hate? It did not feel like any other dislike Josephine had ever felt, towards a spiteful playmate, strict governess or judgmental busybody. It was all-consuming, dizzying and compelling…
Afraid of her own inner tumult, Josephine stepped back. Yes, she probably should go, even if it meant losing face. Then a large hand reached out and took a firm hold of her forearm. She gave a small, involuntary yelp, not of discomfort but of surprise at the bolt of heat and energy that ran through her body at this contact.
The Duke of Ashbourne was touching her skin with his bare hand and Josephine almost felt she would faint from it. Faint?! She never fainted…
“You must not…” she whispered breathlessly, hearing his own breath coming in equally ragged measure.
“Should I give you something to really hate me for, Lady Josephine?” the duke asked her then, his voice strained and his dark blue eyes searching hers for something she couldn’t fathom, never mind give an answer to.
Then, somehow, Cassius Emerton’s arm was around her waist, her face was looking up into his and his warm lips came down gently but firmly upon her mouth. The sweetness of that first kiss was so sharp that it ran through Josephine like a knife. Perhaps it cut the duke too, for the sound from her own throat mingled with his own deeper groan.
Within seconds, there was no longer any question of irritation or hatred, only pure fire running through Josephine’s veins as they embraced. The Duke of Ashbourne’s hands tumbled her hair and her own fingers seized handfuls of his jacket to pull him closer. Then, she pushed off the jacket entirely, running her hands over the strong shirt-clad arms that clasped her.
The scent of Cassius Emerton’s damp skin was maddening and the dance of their tongues intoxicating. Even the mess of his dark hair and slight roughness of his jaw were fascinating to her touch.
It was some minutes later, but all too soon, that the duke abruptly pulled away, seeming to recollect himself and what they were doing.
“What was that?” Josephine could not help thinking aloud, dazed from the unexpected passion of this strange embrace.
“God, you’ve never even been kissed before, have you?” Cassius Emerton said, his expression incomprehensible.
“You kissed me,” she stated incredulously as her mind began to work again, the power of her singing blood fading into the background and the incongruity of their situation coming to her in full flood. “You kissed me!”
“You kissed me too, Lady Josephine,” Cassius Emerton pointed out with an infuriating hint of a smile. “Well, let that be a lesson to you not to follow strange men to the bottom of the garden alone.”
Snatching up his jacket, he stalked away from Josephine, leaving her stunned and furious.
“How dare he!” she muttered to herself and blushed once again while trying to repair her hair.
If Josephine’s hair had been loosed by dancing, or running or some other innocent romping, she likely would have left it alone and laughed off Vera’s questions. But it had been the hands of Cassius Emerton that had brought it tumbling down and she felt an irrational fear that this would somehow be detected.
Confusion seemed to reign in her heart. She had kissed him, but why had she done it? Surely, it was somehow all Cassius Emerton’s fault for kissing her first.
As Josephine slowly made her way back towards the garden party, she was still not entirely sure whether she was more angry that the Duke of Ashbourne had kissed her, or angry that he had stopped…
Cassius was silent and brooding in the coach back to London with Benedict and their mother. For a time, his younger brother chattered on regardless, diverting the dowager duchess with his usual light and amusing comments about mutual acquaintance or the events of the day. Today his conversation was littered with talk of Lady Josephine Thomson and the games they had played.
This was the last topic under the sun that the Duke of Ashbourne wished to have in his ears at the present moment. That determined young woman seemed to pursue him everywhere he went and she could never be ignored.
“For God’s sake, Benedict,” he burst out eventually, opening a window to let some air into the carriage. “Can’t we talk of something else?”
