Mischief by Moonlight (5 page)

“But his arm,” Josie said. “We should see if he's hurt.”

“I'm sure he's fine. He just wants attention. Will always has to be the center of attention.”

That was possibly true, but it was also a shrewish comment.

Will picked himself up and walked off in a sulk. It would have done the boys good to gallop out across the fields and release some of their energy, but the Cardworthys only kept two horses, and Mama didn't like them to be ridden hard lest they go lame. Papa might have been a rough man, but since he'd died, Jasmine House had become too tame a place for high-spirited boys. Too tame a place for anyone with spirit.

Josie sat back down. She felt certain that there was some underlying fear or unhappiness that made Edwina sharp. If only it might be somehow resolved.

Josie said with soft urgency, “I want for you to find a husband, more than anything.” She paused. “Won't you please consider setting your sights on Ivorwood?”

Edwina just stared at her for long seconds. “Why? Has he expressed a fascination with me to you?”

“No,” Josie said carefully. “But he might if you showed a particular interest in him when he comes back.”

“I'll just snap my fingers, shall I, and get him to pay attention to me instead of you?”

Josie frowned. “But that's different. We're only good friends. But you might be so much more to each other.”

“Is that so,” Edwina said frostily. “Ivorwood's never shown half so much interest in me as he has in you. And I won't take any woman's leavings, especially not yours.”

“But who will you marry if no one's good enough? You don't want to end up like Mama, do you?”

“Just because I don't want to entice a man who's clearly not smitten with me, it doesn't make me like Mama.”

Josie knew she was walking on thin ice, but wasn't it time to speak honestly? So much was at stake. “Mama gave up on her future when Papa died. Didn't you give up on yours when Mr. Perriwell left?”

A dark flush spread over Edwina's face. “That was different. Papa kept us so sheltered we couldn't meet anyone.”

“Papa's been gone for years,” Josie said gently. “When are you going to let go of his hold over you?”

Edwina looked away. “Don't you see that I have?” she said in a rough voice. “I
learned
from him. And from Mr. Perriwell. That's why, if I were ever to marry, it would only be to a man who would treat me like I'm the sun in his sky. And since that's not going to happen, I shall be perfectly happy staying at Jasmine House.”

She stood up. “Keep your pity, Josie. I don't need it.” She tossed her sewing on the chair and left.

Josie swallowed uncomfortably. Clearly her matchmaking efforts had been an utter failure. And though Edwina might talk bravely, she seemed still troubled by their father's thoughtless comments and Mr. Perriwell's abandonment.

But what Edwina had said about Colin being particularly interested in Josie…someone listening might have gotten the impression that he was drawn to her in something more than friendship.

Of course it wasn't true. But she remembered the funny way she'd felt when Colin had smiled at Edwina, and it gave her the strangest shiver.

Later that afternoon, feeling peevish, Josie took out the small stack of letters from Nicholas and reread them. And suppressed, as she found herself doing more and more lately, the wish that he wouldn't address her as though she were some sort of goddess of perfection. He only wanted their future to be perfect, she told herself, just as she did.

Dearest
Josephine
, he'd written as a postscript to the family letter,
when
we
are
finally
together, all shall be as it should be. You are all that is good, and I cling to the memory of you as one clings to a light in the darkness.

Muddled as she was, though, she didn't see how she could be anyone's guiding light.

She did not feel any better the next morning when, awakened by a shriek, she emerged from her chamber to find one of the maids in the corridor staring at her brothers' tutor, who was sitting dazedly on the floor by Edwina's door with a startled look on his gaunt face. Next to him lay a large bunch of weeds tied around with a cravat, like an enormous bouquet; the hallway smelled strongly of onion tops, which could be glimpsed among the clover and dockweed.

Edwina opened the door to her room and nearly fell over the pile of weeds. Mr. Botsford, who was rubbing his face vigorously and trying to stand up, looked as though he would shortly be ill.

“What on earth is going on?” Edwina demanded as their brothers arrived.

“I'm so slor…sorry!” Mr. Botsford said, finally managing to stand by dint of pushing himself up along the wall. “I cannot for the life of me tell you how I ended up here.” He stood there quivering and blinking his large brown eyes rapidly, looking like a cornered field mouse.

“What about all these weeds?” Edwina said in a cold voice. “Is this some sort of joke, Mr. Botsford?”

He stood there in mute horror.

It eventually came to light that Will had found the potion bottle in Josie's room when she sent him to fetch something, and he and Matthew had thought putting some of her “elixir” in Mr. Botsford's tea would be hilarious.

She explained the potion away as something a gypsy had pressed on her, and was relieved that Mr. Botsford seemed to recover quickly. As he led her brothers sternly off to atone through some disagreeable tasks, Edwina prodded the weeds with her foot.

“Doubtless the only bouquet I shall receive this year.”

Josie leaned down to pick up the weeds. “I suppose the poor man has a
tendre
for you.”

Edwina merely put a hand over her face and retreated into her room.

As the maid bore the pungent bouquet away, Josie thought of how abruptly Colin had left Jasmine House the night she'd potioned him and worried guiltily that the potion had had some ill, if temporary, effect on him.

And what if he'd somehow seen her putting it in his tea? She shuddered at the thought.

She resolved to pour the potion out, but her brothers seemed to have lost it—though she turned their bedchambers upside down, she couldn't find the wretched thing.

Colin never liked being in London as much as the country, even though he had a beautiful home in Mayfair, as befitted the Earl of Ivorwood, and the city meant gatherings filled with plenty of lively conversation and music and art. He liked music and art, and he valued the project he'd recently undertaken with his friend Hal, Viscount Roxham, to build a hospital for wounded soldiers, which, along with meetings of Parliament, kept him busy.

But he didn't like to be with people around the clock, and in London, with all the people who knew him because he was the earl, they were hard to avoid. He missed the slower pace of life at Greenbrier, the endless hours he could spend on reading and writing. And of course, he missed Josie, the one person whose company he always wanted.

Lately he'd been trying to convince himself that her beauty had enchanted him to the point that he overlooked things about her that should have annoyed him. Like the way she sometimes told him what he ought to do. A flaw, surely.

She was also far too likely to do things without considering consequences, as when he'd come upon her standing on a branch in the old apple tree in front of Jasmine House last fall, insisting she could reach the apples the gardener had said couldn't be gotten. Colin had nearly expired at the sight of her feet on that narrow limb, and he insisted she get down immediately. But she'd only laughed and pelted him with apples.

He pushed away the thought that perhaps she'd gotten engaged to Nick on a whim, that the two of them had had only six weeks of courting and maybe they shouldn't have let their feelings run away with them. That she tended to look on the bright side of things and disregard consequences, and she thought marriage was a fairy tale.

People got married on the strength of much shorter acquaintance than six weeks, he reminded himself, and it didn't matter one whit what Josie and Nick did because it was entirely not his affair.

He had no business thinking of her at all, but even though he wasn't with her every day now, he couldn't seem to stop. That erotic dream had put the kind of images in his mind that he'd fought hard never to nourish, and now they were there, waiting to ambush him in weak moments as though they were actual experiences they'd shared.

And, raging desire aside, Josie had become such a close friend that he simply missed her.

He felt bad about leaving so abruptly, but he knew he must not invest any more in their friendship, that doing so would only draw him further into the temptation the dream had shown him: the temptation to think he had as much right as any man to want a woman who did not yet legally belong to another man.

He would not behave like a scoundrel to his two closest friends. He owed them far better.

Which was why, as a sort of apology to Josie, he was currently engaged in writing a note to his aunt, Mrs. Maria Westin, who was in Town for the Season, asking her to sponsor Edwina.

He was fairly certain Maria would do it, and he knew it would please Josie, who was so concerned about her sister's future. Not without good reason, he thought wryly as he signed the note and sprinkled sand over it. At least he'd disabused Josie of the idea of matching him with Edwina.

Josie would be invited, too, naturally, but he meant to keep enough distance between them that it would be as though she were hardly there.

***

As the Earl of Ivorwood's coach drew Edwina and Josie through London on a soft June afternoon a week later, Josie stared avidly out the little window on her side.

“Aren't you going to look?” she said as a high-perch phaeton pulled past them, driven by a man with a fillip of blond hair pluming over his forehead and a garish yellow waistcoat. “Our first visit to London! I didn't think we'd ever be able to come.”

“I know. I'm very excited,” Edwina said in a flat voice.

Edwina had closed the curtain to her window when the carriage had clattered by a marketplace where people were shouting and the smoke of a brazier had hung thickly in the air. The smells and sounds and sights of London were intense, but Josie liked how different they were from the quiet familiarity of Upperton.

“You don't sound excited,” she said, and she thought she knew why: after so many years stuck at Jasmine House, maybe London looked daunting to someone of Edwina's temperament. Perhaps Edwina was afraid of not being a success, afraid she would be overlooked or rejected, and she didn't want to get her hopes up. Josie tried to cheer her. “It's amazing. The whole town is a wonder.”

“The whole town smells awful,” Edwina said from the far corner of the coach, where she had withdrawn. “Why don't you close your curtain?”

“Edwina,” Josie said, turning to give her an encouraging look, “if you even just pretended to be a little enchanted, I think you'd soon come to feel that way, like the way humming a cheery tune can give you a little courage when you're feeling low. It really was so kind of Mrs. Westin to invite us, and of Colin to ask her to do it.”

“I know,” Edwina said and forced a small, tight smile. She tried gamely to expand it into what she must have thought looked like enchantment, but the expression was actually fairly ghastly.

“Never mind,” Josie said kindly. “I'm sure all will go well if you just let London work its magic on you.”

When Mrs. Westin's invitation had arrived several days earlier, they'd all been surprised. Maria Westin's letter had hinted that she'd had particular success in guiding young ladies in finding husbands, and though Josie caught her mother looking dismayed at the thought of Edwina finding a husband, it was hard for anyone to argue that Edwina didn't deserve this chance.

Josie had been so glad at this sign of friendship from Colin, since she knew he was helping Edwina because she, Josie, had asked him. She felt especially grateful that, despite the way she'd pressed him about courting Edwina himself, he still meant to help.

Even if Edwina was approaching London with trepidation, Josie held out hope that, perhaps with guidance from Maria Westin and enough of the right kind of exposure, Edwina might catch the interest of a London gentleman. Preferably one who knew how to be lavish when courting.

Whatever happened, though, one of the things Josie was most looking forward to in London was for Colin to show it to her. For surely once she and Edwina were installed at his aunt's house, they would see him regularly.

Mrs. Westin's town house, which was in the fashionable district of Mayfair, was tall and slim and elegant. A dapper, surprisingly handsome butler opened the front door for Edwina and Josie.

Inside, the foyer made Josie think of a beautifully wrapped present. Every surface gleamed, from the dark wood of the stairway banister to the brass sconces on the walls. A small marble statue of a Greek woman stood on a waist-high pedestal, accenting the salmon wallpaper behind it, while on the opposite wall, miniature gold-framed paintings marched up the stairs. Everything smelled cleanly of lemon.

Mrs. Westin was waiting to greet them. She was petite and slim, with the sharp, alert quality of a bird, and perhaps it was because her hair was such a striking auburn color that her skin looked just like porcelain. Her apple-green silk dress fell in perfect soft folds and kissed the tops of tiny dark yellow satin shoes. Josie could not have said how old Mrs. Westin was—she might have been forty, but a confident worldliness in her manner suggested she was quite a bit older.

“Well, my dears,” she said, leading them into a handsome dark blue and gold drawing room and ringing for tea, “lovely as you are, you will certainly attract attention. Now tell me, have you ever been to London before?”

“No, Mrs. Westin,” Edwina said. She was blinking a lot, which she did when she felt out of her element.

“Stop blinking, child,” Mrs. Westin said in a kind voice. “Fix your eyes on something if you must, and focus there until you can gather yourself.”

Edwina's eyes dropped to the floor.

“Never the floor, Miss Cardworthy! You are a regal young woman, not a schoolgirl being scolded. People will treat you as you present yourself to be treated. And the last thing you want is a husband who wishes you to be a little girl for him to scold.”

That brought a smile to Edwina's face. She raised her head and lifted her chin. “I should hate such a man.”

“So should I.” Maria Westin spoke in such a decisive way that Josie wondered if the widow's husband had been such a man. Though Josie couldn't see her
allowing
him to be.

Maria Westin turned her sharp eyes on Josie. “And what about you, Miss Josephine? My nephew tells me you are engaged to Captain Hargrave.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“A handsome gentleman to be sure. And he's been off fighting Napoleon for some time, hasn't he?”

“I haven't seen him in over a year.”

One of Mrs. Westin's slender eyebrows lifted. “So he engaged himself to you, and then went off to war? Isn't Captain Hargrave worried that you'll forget about him? And aren't you a bit worried that some lovely foreign lady might catch his eye?”

Her frankness was startling. And also refreshing. To say such things out loud, to voice the hidden, unwelcome thoughts that tormented Josie in the dark of night—well, it made her feel oddly comforted.

She hoped Nicholas had received her letter telling him that she and Edwina would be in London for the Season. His last letter had indicated that on his return to England in late July, he would stop at his London town house first. That was only next month, and if he didn't receive their letter, how surprised he would be to find Josie in Town.

Edwina waved her arm dismissively. “Nicholas wouldn't dare lose interest in Josie. She's too perfect.”

“Edwina,” Josie said, frowning at her sister's tone.

Their hostess laughed, an airy, elegant sound. “But it's a charming thing to say, as long as the tone is not sarcastic. Tone is everything, my dear Edwina, and you never want to look shrewish or envious. But we can discuss such things further before you two venture into society.”

“Shall we see Ivorwood soon?” Josie asked.

“Not just yet. I believe he is quite busy at the moment.”

Josie tried not to show her disappointment.

“Anyway,” Maria Westin continued, “
we
shall be far too busy to see
him
. I'll send a note to let him know you've arrived.”

There followed several intense days in which Colin's aunt tutored Edwina and Josie in London ways and fashions and took them to shops. She invited them to call her Maria, and seemed quite sweetly happy to spoil them.

“Since I am widowed with no children,” she said as she led them into a linen drapers on Bond Street that was overflowing with rich satins and silks, “I want to play fairy godmother to you both.” And she bought them each enough beautiful fabric, in pastel hues that looked straight from the garden, to make three gowns.

As they got to know their hostess better, Josie couldn't help noticing that while Maria Westin wasn't telling Edwina anything Josie hadn't already suggested herself, Edwina actually seemed to be listening to her.

***

Maria took Josie and Edwina to a dinner party at the end of their first week, to begin introducing them to society. The ladies met a number of charming and flirtatious gentlemen, and by the next morning, Maria said that people had already begun talking about “the beauteous Cardworthy sisters.”

As each day passed, Josie observed with amazement that her sister seemed to blossom more. Some of this blossoming was surely due to Maria and all she'd exposed them to, but Josie suspected some of it was due to the magic of London itself, with its crowds and grand buildings and city energy. It was as though some sort of scales had grown over Edwina during the years at Jasmine House, and they were falling away now amid the excitement of London.

Most afternoons the three ladies strolled about the city, wandering among ancient lanes and grand buildings and exploring Hyde Park, and Josie often wished the still-absent Colin were there to share it all with them. She'd missed him as the ladies had stood outside the Tower, where she recalled all the things he'd told her had happened there.

And how he would have teased her if he'd been present when she'd almost fallen into the Serpentine while chasing an adorable dog who'd snatched her reticule, which had been full of sweets.

But there was no sign of him; he was apparently very busy. She missed how easy it was to see him at home.

At a party near the end of their second week, Edwina caught the attention of one gentleman in particular, Lord Mappleton. Josie had never seen her sister smile so much as she did when he lingered talking with her, though Josie couldn't see that there was so much to smile about: Mappleton was wealthy and titled, but he didn't seem to have an original thought in his head, and there was something almost too agreeable about him.

There were, Josie was dismayed to acknowledge noticing, many finer men on whom to set one's sights. London gentlemen were…fascinating. She was beginning to see how being kept apart from society, even the small society of Upperton, had closed down her view of the world, so that coming to London made her feel like a child in a sweetshop.

She was enjoying herself far too much, and she was ashamed to realize that she'd gone whole days without thinking once about Nicholas. This was terrible, as was the sense she kept having that marrying would mean giving up so much
potential
, which was greedy and also ridiculous, because marrying Nicholas wouldn't mean giving up parties and balls—as his wife, she'd likely attend far more. He had a family house in London as well as one in the country, and marrying him would be the beginning of wonderful things.

So why had her impending marriage started to seem like an ending? She loved him, didn't she? He was handsome and charming and so much fun.

He'd told her he loved her.