Page 45 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“That is all you can say? ‘Oh?’ After I have risked life and limb to bring you all the comforts of home?” He sighed as though greatly put upon. “I suppose I could take it away again.”

Despite her efforts, at his overly dismal tone, she laughed. “Andrew, you ninny. I am delighted by the refreshments. Thank you for providing them.” Rather than sit in her usual place, Josephine took the piece of carpet directly beside him, the better to nudge his shoulder with her own. “But I must confess myself to some disappointment.”

Andrew’s lips quirked upward as he poured tea from the little pot into a cup for her. “Do tell, my lady. It is my shame if I have given you any reason to be less than completely satisfied.”

Josephine put the pile of paper at her side and accepted the cup from him. “It is a simple thing. Merely that you are not wearing the delightful apron from the last time you poured my tea.”

Andrew tilted his head back and laughed, loudly enough to startle Josephine into nearly dropping her cup. Which only made him laugh more, and then she could not help joining in.

“It was a most fetching apron, wasn’t it?” he said, his eyes still alight with mirth.

Josephine didn’t dare take a sip of the tea yet, as the memory of Andrew’s flounces as he poured tea for all those gathered made her snicker again. A most unladylike sound, her grandmother would say. “I cannot believe you were the one to wear it. I truly hoped it would’ve fallen to Simon.”

“Alas, your brother proved a superior horseman yesterday.” Andrew poured his own cup of tea and leaned back against the stone wall. His shirtsleeve brushed her skin at the elbow, making a prickle of awareness travel along her arm. But she didn’t move.

It was only Andrew. They were alone. What did it matter?

She heaved a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think I could slip away today. Not without Grandmama noticing.”

“Your stealth impresses me.” Andrew put his cup down and picked up a pastry. “You’d be a natural spy. You should inquire at the Home Office.”

Josephine chuckled, then sighed. “Hand me one of those tarts, won’t you?” He passed her an apple tart. She settled more comfortably against the wall, uncaring if she mussed her curls.

Andrew went back to his pastry, devouring it in two quick bites. He brushed his hand off on his trousers. “You avoided Hartwell rather neatly, too.”

“Troublesome of him to want my attention, isn’t it?” She tried to smile, but it felt weak. She wasn’t one to speak unkindly of others, and this felt nearly the same. “I promised to show him the gardens this afternoon.”

For a moment, she thought Andrew went stiff beside her. But then he moved to pick up the plate of pastries to offer her another of her choice. “I didn’t think he was interested in horticulture.”

“He isn’t.” Josephine picked up a bilberry tart next. “It is an excuse, I gather, to speak with me.” She nibbled at the edge of the flaky crust. “These are delicious. How did you manage to get all of it up here?”

“That is my secret, I’m afraid.” Andrew folded his arms and closed his eyes.

“I told you my secret,” she reminded him.

He cracked open one eye to look down at her. “That doesn’t mean I must now tell you mine, does it?” He closed his eye again. “I thought you didn’t like it when your family played at matchmaking.”

“I don’t.” Josephine took a larger bite of her treat, then chewed slowly. Hoping Andrew wouldn’t press the subject. She had no such luck.

“Simon rarely takes part in such schemes, I thought.”

“Almost never, beyond introducing me to his friends at social events.” She focused on eating the last bite without dropping the dark purplish tart filling onto her gown. Then she brushed at the crumbs on her lap. “I have discussed the matter with him. He knows I am not happy about it.”

“The idea of you and Hartwell. It’s strange.”

Josephine agreed with him. “I know. It isn’t as though he has ever showed interest before.”

“Nor you in him, I gather.” Andrew had gone stiff beside her again.

“Never.” She leaned a little closer to him, their arms flush from shoulder to elbow. The pleasant sensation of connection, brief as it was, seemed to make Andrew relax. She caught him smiling, though his eyes remained closed.

What was it her grandmother had said about Andrew? That he was jealous, independent, and needful. A strange combination of things. How could one be all three at the same time? And why?

She understood his desire for independence, as she felt it often enough herself. But needful? What could he need?

He was all alone in the world, except for her family and his cousin Emma. He didn’t have anyone else that she knew of. Perhaps that explained both the needfulness and the jealousy.

“Andrew?”