Chapter Seventeen - The Truth

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Josephine

... For all the right reasons.

Josephine sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing her tattered wedding gown and crooked circlet of rosebuds. She was so engrossed in staring at nothing that she didn't even blink when a pink stocking came sailing past her nose, followed by a pair of kid slippers.

All that was visible of Katy was her round little butt. She was on her knees pawing through the bottom of Josephine's wardrobe. Every few seconds, she would toss an item haphazardly over one shoulder to a waiting Anthony , who would catch it and cram it into the brocaded valise sitting open on the other side of the bed.

“I don’t know why you're going to all that trouble," Josephine said, her voice nearly as flat as her expression. “They won’t let me have those things in prison."

“You’re not going to prison,” Katy said flercely, tossing Anthony a crumpled nightdress. “You’re going to run away."

Josephine sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a rather formidable footman stationed just outside the door. Should I make it past him, which I doubtless wouldn’t, I’m sure His Grace would be only too delighted to sic one of his slavering devil dogs on me.”

Anthony threw open the window and leaned out, surveying the steep slant of the clay shingles. “We might be able to knot some sheets together and lower you to the ground.”

“Now, that’s a brilliant plan," Josephine said dryly. “If I should break my own neck, it would spare him the trouble of doing it.”

Katy sat back on her heels, shooting her brother a frazzled glance.

“He can’t keep you under lock and key forever, you know,” Anthony insisted.

“And why not? He’s a very wealthy and powerful man. He can do whatever he likes with me.” Josephine couldn’t quite hide her involuntary shiver. “Even if I did manage to escape him, where would I go? There's nowhere I could hide where he wouldn’t find me."

Katy sank down on the bed next to Josephine, patting her icy hand. “Perhaps it’s not too late to throw yourself on his mercy. If you cry very prettily, he might just find it in his heart to forgive you.”

Josephine slowly turned to look at her sister. “For over six years his own mother begged for his forgiveness. I can’t count the number of times I caught her crying over him. Yet he never spared her so much as a second thought.” She went back to gazing at the faded violets on the wallpaper.

“I refuse to beg for mercy from a man who has none to give."

“Look on the bright side,” Katy said, leaning her head against Josephine's shoulder. “Perhaps he’ll forget everything that's happened to him since he lost his memory.”

Josephine studied the delicate garnet ring he had slipped on her finger only an hour ago. “That's what I’m most afraid of,” she whispered, resting her golden head against Katy’s dark one.

Hero

Hero Fiennes Tiffin, the seventh duke of Deansbrook, stood in the drawing room of Arden Manor for the first time in over twenty-one years. He could no longer be sure if it was time or his memory that had betrayed him. He only knew that once the room had been larger and sunnier, the roses embroidered on the settee cushions had been red instead of pink, and his mother’s pianoforte hadn’t been missing half a leg. Hardin Scott had never noticed such trifling things, but to Hero, they were as glaring as the ugly watermark staining the plaster frieze.

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