Page 9 of A Wicked Duke's Arranged Marriage
Josephine tried hard not to wince. As the children of viscounts, there should have been no question about them marrying well – and they had, even with the debts her family had fallen into due to a title only carrying them so far. Caroline looking away before suggesting it made so much more sense than she wanted to think about. It was the one thing that she had been avoiding doing this whole time. They were all comfortable, but that didn’t mean they were so comfortable as to be able to afford to help. Not without risking problems for themselves.
Not to mention the shame.
“Mavis is doing well, is she not? Didn’t her husband just inherit his father’s estate?” Caroline pushed gently, her support unwavering.
Josephine nodded, guilt twisting in the pit of her stomach. He had. And they were also expecting their third child any day now. She couldn’t imagine that his father’s estate had been so grand to make any real impact.
“Caroline,” she cut off as a bell tinkled through the house, stopping her mid-argument.
Dinner time. Saved by the bell.
“That’ll be Magda putting dinner on the table,” Josephine sighed. “Did you want to join us?”
‘Caroline was already standing, her blue eyes jerking over to the clock in the room's far corner. “Oh! No! I didn’t even look at the time. I stopped by here after deliveries. Father will be expecting me home in time to help set the table!”
Josephine nodded, smiling at her friend’s ever-mercurial changes in mood, and walked with her to the door. “I’ll think about what you said,” she offered softly as they exited the study. “And maybe tomorrow you can tell me all about that dreadful situation with the Duke of Wallburshare.”
“That romantic situation,” Caroline corrected with a giggle, rolling her eyes as she broke away from Josephine to head for the front door. “You’ll want to hear all about it, Josie, just you wait and see.”
Josephine laughed, waving her friend off as she did. She doubted it. But she knew that come the next day, when they met up again, she’d at least pretend to hold some level of interest, if only for Caroline’s sake.
The heavy oak door closed behind Caroline just as Mr Tuttle appeared from around the corner, his severe white brow creased with confusion as he looked between Josephine and the door.
“Lady Josephine,” Mr Tuttle murmured in his gravel-ridden voice. “I was just sent to fetch you for dinner.”
“I’m coming, Mr Tuttle,” Josephine sighed, casting one last lingering look at the door before heading towards the dining room.
It was a short walk that did nothing to ease Josephine’s preoccupation. Even with Caroline’s short visit, her head was still chock-full of numbers and due dates. Mr Tuttle followed her silently, opening the door to a modest dining room with a pleasantly spread table. Only her mother and father were within, both already seated and talking quietly as she hurried to her spot.
Dinners were a much quieter affair in the years since she and her siblings had grown, even more since they had all moved out. But for once, Josephine found herself looking forward to that quiet.
“You look tired, dear,” Lady St Vincent murmured as Josephine took her spot at the table.
“Just thinking,” Josephine lied with a smile.
Her father cleared his throat, his lips thinning as he fussed about his plate without so much as taking a bite. A normally stoic, confident man, the fidgeting had Josephine pausing as she folded her napkin into her lap.
“Yes, well. I hope that isn’t because you are coming down with something,” Lord St Vincent groused. “I’d hate to think that you were, with the timing of everything.”
Josephine’s eyebrows rose before she could control the expression, her eyes shooting to her mother in question. Lady St Vincent only looked down at her plate, though, her cheeks colouring slightly.
“The timing of everything?”
Lord St Vincent’s greying mustache twitched, his nod short and jerky. “Quite. You’ll never believe who we received a letter from today.”
Oh, no. Josephine’s heart sank as she stared at her father, the scent of the roast duck and potatoes in front of her forgotten as she willed him to say anything other than what she feared most.
“You know of the Duke of Wallburshare, no doubt,” Lord St Vincent carried on as if Josephine had done anything but stare in silence. “It’s the oddest thing, Josie, but he wrote asking after the eligibility of my daughters. You see, it seems that he is searching for a wife.” He paused again, clearing his throat as he fiddled with his silverware. “I have only the one now, of course, which I’ll hasten to tell him. But I had thought, you see, with how difficult it can be for one to meet someone suitable this far out in the country, that it posed a rather unique opportunity.”
He was saying so many words, but none meant anything to Josephine.
She could feel her heart sinking with each new pause in his speech. Unique opportunity, he said, but she knew he didn’t mean just for her. He meant for their family.
Those red numbers flashed in her head again, all the months of her ‘creative book keeping’ and the bills she had shuffled to afford to keep paying in the forefront of her mind as she stared at her father silently.
“You must write to him then,” Josephine offered, her voice placid despite her suddenly racing heart.
A duchess could ensure that her parents’ estate didn’t fall into disrepair. A duchess could afford to help her father fix those books so there was never any red in the ledger when it came time for accounting. A duchess could ensure that the parents who had raised her lived comfortably for the rest of their lives.
