Page 7 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“What was all that about?” she asked, her voice soft and manner more hesitant than usual.

Andrew studied her face a moment, ensuring she hadn’t been overly frightened. Josephine appeared perfectly calm. She hadn’t even turned pale. He looked the same direction as she. “Cowardly men, making a scene. Harassing those who represent all that they despise, though they have nothing to do with it.”

Women all along the Arcade were speaking in whispers to each other, and there were a few nervous titters, too. A door several shops down opened, and two ladies came out, a maid with them, and hurried to Josephine. They both started talking to her at once, which gave Andrew leave to surmise they were the friends who had earlier abandoned her.

The duke’s daughter spoke over them in an obvious attempt to gain their attention. “Yes, I know. It was dreadful. Since we cannot be sure if those men, or more like them, will come back, let us return to my house. We can have refreshment there, and my father’s carriage will return you both home.”

That met with the other ladies’ approval, and Andrew didn’t think he’d imagined the way Sterling relaxed at the shoulders, either. The guard would want his charge safely at home so he could make his report.

Josephine sent him one last glance, concern in her eyes. Andrew grinned at her, as though nothing had happened, eliciting a small frown from the duke’s daughter. Then she let her friends tug her toward Piccadilly Street where it was a short walk back to her father’s doors.

Andrew watched her go, fully intending to follow. First, he ducked into the shop where Josephine had taken refuge. The shopkeeper inside, an older gentleman with spectacles at the tip of his nose and carefully combed graying hair, brightened when he met Andrew’s gaze.

“Good day to you, sir. Have you a need for pens, pencils, charcoal, stationary, or paper today?”

“Pens, actually.” Andrew went to the display where Josephine had peered with interest before the little drama had occurred. He found a case containing three pens, the wooden bodies expertly carved with ivy and the metal nibs shining on the end, bright and new. He picked up the case and brought it to the proprietor. “I think these will do. What of ink?”

“Yes, of course. I have the finest ink available. Do you need something other than black?”

He thought of Josephine’s startled, wide blue eyes and smiled to himself. “Indigo. If you have it.”

For as long as he’d known Josephine, she’d always scribbled away at letters, poetry she refused to let him or anyone else read, and who knew what else. That she had marveled over so simple an instrument as a pen had amused him, of course. Why not gift her the thing he doubted she would buy for herself?

Despite all their teasing, their playful bickering, he counted her a friend. And she did have a birthday approaching. Why not offer an olive branch, of sorts?

After making his purchase and directing the delivery to his rented rooms, Andrew went to the duke’s house. The duke himself would be in Parliament, but Simon was likely home. Andrew had been on his way to meet his friend when he’d caught sight of Josephine entering the Arcade. He’d changed his path without thinking. Now he was glad he had.

Sterling could easily have dispatched the three hostile men had there been a threat to Josephine, but he would do nothing if his charge wasn’t under direct threat. Doing so would further compromise Josephine’s safety, and his mission given him by the duke was singular in purpose. That left all those other women exposed to vulgarity and verbal abuse. Something Andrew would not stand for.

The duke’s admonition for the family to take greater care had proved prophetic. If the political agitators had emboldened their followers to harass the upper classes and nobility with such boldness, things might get much worse before the end of the Parliamentary session.

He entered Dinard House as normal, handing off hat and gloves to the footman who greeted him. The staff treated him as one of the family, allowing him to come and go as he wished with little fuss. The servant informed him that Simon had last been in his mother’s favorite sitting room.

As Andrew approached the door, he heard several voices within. He adjusted the lapels of his coat and nodded to the manservant stationed outside the door to open it for him. Then he walked inside, hearing the duchess’s words first.

“Calm yourselves, my dear young ladies. You are all quite safe now, and indeed, I do not think you were in real danger of more than hearing unpleasant men speak unpleasant words.” The duchess sat on a plumply cushioned chair with Josephine on a matching footstool before her. The other two young women who had been with Josephine before were on a couch, still wearing bonnets, though both had teacups in ungloved hands. The dowager duchess sat in a chair opposite the rug from her daughter-in-law, and the two younger daughters of the duke were on a loveseat, their eyes wide and hands gripping their embroidery hoops.

Simon stood as far away from the knot of females as he could, his back to a window, and glared fiercely at the fireplace. If Andrew had his way, he’d have slunk quietly and unnoticed around the edge of the room until he reached Simon—or else the two of them would have escaped altogether.

Instead, the dowager duchess saw him and addressed him with all her usual pomp and solemnity.

“Sir Andrew. I have not seen you in an age, young man.” She held her hand toward him, and he had to bite back a chuckle as he approached her. Most of the family saw the dowager as a formidable, though loving, individual. He had even heard his cousin Emma refer to her as an old dragon. Somehow, he’d always been a favorite of hers.

“Your Grace.” He took her hand and bowed over it. “I am flattered you noticed my absence.”

“As well you should be.” The woman’s eyes twinkled up at him. “Up to some mischief, no doubt. Have you met Josephine’s friends?”

Andrew turned and bowed to the young ladies now standing for their introduction. Lady Josephine reluctantly stood and set matters to right. Once everyone was acquainted, she retook her seat at her mother’s feet.

The duchess waited long enough for Andrew to join her son at the window before she said, “Sir Andrew, Josephine was just telling us of the unfortunate encounter at the Arcade today.”

“Yes. It was unpleasant.” He smiled as he used her own word, then added, “But nothing to concern yourself over, Your Grace. The men went on their way. Though I do think His Grace might speak to Lord Burlington about hiring guards or employing beadles to patrol the area. For safety’s sake.”

“Do you think it will happen again?” Lady Helen asked, her voice pitched higher than Andrew found comfortable. “Papa will never let me go to the Arcade again if he hears of this.”

Andrew tried not to wince as he answered her. “I doubt we will have another incident. But as the lane is narrow and full of gentlewomen and their purchases, it makes sense to have someone there to watch over their security.”

Simon spoke, his tone dark. “We can hope for continued safety, but I imagine many fathers will take steps to protect their daughters, Lady Helen.”