Page 59 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“Child, I have known that you and our baronet were meant for one another for some time.” The slow upward curl of her lips, the arch of a single brow, made her grandmother look quite smug. And finally, Josephine laughed.

“You tried to hint as much to me—oh my goodness. When you told me you thought Andrew jealous, you meant he was jealous of Lord Hartwell.” Josephine couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as she sat upon the edge of her bed. “Grandmama, why didn’t you say something? Something besides your hinting.”

“You wouldn’t have listened.” Grandmama sniffed daintily and fiddled with the pen on Josephine’s desk. “You are too much like me. You have to discover things for yourself before you believe them.”

“Then you approve?” Josephine asked, heart rising with hope. If her grandmother approved, so too would her parents. They loved Andrew, of course, but that didn’t mean they would immediately think a baronet worthy of their daughter’s hand in marriage. If, she told herself, it went so far. If Andrew didn’t change his mind. If he really, truly loved her.

The dowager duchess smiled warmly at her granddaughter, then answered with great amusement, “Of course I approve, my darling. You two are a perfect fit for one another. I think you will make each other happy, and what’s more, I think he’s more than clever enough for you to match wits with throughout your life.”

Josephine rose and went to wrap her arms around her grandmother, relieved and hopeful beyond words.

* * *

Who would have guessed that sharing a hymnal with a woman could lead to such a feeling of connection? Andrew had certainly never considered what the simple act of holding a book by one end while Josephine held the other would do to his heart. It flipped. It danced. It hummed happily along with the music. All things, he well knew, a heart ought not to do.

When Hartwell had taken his leave, full of apologetic words and meaningful glances, Andrew hadn’t known what Josephine would say. How it might make her feel. But she seemed happier than ever, sitting beside him in the old medieval church, her shoulder brushing his as they listened to the vicar’s sermon and raised their own voices in song.

But everything had changed. From the moment he woke that morning, the world had taken on a brighter cast. The air was sweeter, the sky brighter, and his body stronger than it had ever been before. All because he knew Josephine returned his feelings. He felt it, within his very soul, and life could only grow the better for having told her of his affection for her.

At the end of the service, Andrew followed Simon and the dowager duchess out of the chapel. The governess kept behind with the younger girls. Once they were out of doors, Andrew looked down into Josephine’s eyes and murmured, “Someday soon, I hope to introduce you to everyone here.”

She colored, as though she knew he had wished to add the words “as my wife” to his claim. But they still had weeks and weeks before he could imagine having the banns read. He needed to give her a proper courtship. Before they could court in earnest, he must make the journey back to London to ask her father’s permission.

And before all that, he must tell Simon. And hope his friend did not see this change as a betrayal of trust. They had always told each other everything. They were as near to one another as brothers, lacking only the blood to make them so.

After Andrew helped Josephine and her sisters step into the carriage, Simon caught his shoulder, and the duke’s son spoke in low tones directly into Andrew’s ear. “You and I need to talk.”

Andrew nodded his understanding, and then the two of them went to the gig that Andrew kept at his estate. The two of them followed the carriage as it left the churchyard.

Simon didn’t wait long to break the silence. “I have never seen a man look as relieved as you did when you bid Hartwell and his brother goodbye this morning.”

Andrew tipped his hat farther back, then held the reins in both hands. “It wasn’t that they left that caused such a thing. It was what Hartwell said, about Josephine, before he went.”

“That struck me as curious.” Simon folded his arms and slouched in his seat, casting Andrew a suspicious look. “He had already taken leave of Josephine. But he didn’t seem inclined to comment anything more. I thought he meant to court her, but that no longer appears to be his intention.”

“No.” Andrew relaxed his grip on the reins. “And I am sorry for him. He is a good fellow.” His gut twisted. How did he say what he wished to say, without sounding like a fool?

“Among the best.” Andrew shifted nervously on his seat. Then cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Simon raised one lordly eyebrow. “Oh?” He wasn’t going to make it any easier for Andrew than that.

“I told Josephine that I am in love with her.”

Simon sat all the way up. “You what?” he asked, the words a bark of surprise.

Andrew’s heart sank. “I told your sister I love her. Yesterday. But I have felt it coming on for some time—”

“‘Coming on?’ You make it sound like a head cold.” Simon chuckled, and the sound startled Andrew enough that he gaped at his friend, pulling back on the reins enough to make the horse slow its steps. “I hope that isn’t the wording you used when you informed her of your feelings.”

“Not—not quite.” Andrew turned forward, then faced his friend again. “I thought you would be shocked.”

“I am. That is, I’m surprised. But it also makes sense.” Simon shook his head and sighed. “Why couldn’t you have figured this out before I invited Hartwell to visit?”

“I wasn’t ready to admit it yet.” Andrew ducked his head somewhat sheepishly. “Hartwell’s visit acted as something of an accelerator. Of sorts.”

Simon snorted. “I suppose you’re welcome for that.”

Andrew chuckled, the worry within him untangling itself. “You don’t mind then?”