A Kiss To Remember | Herophine

Chapter Eighteen - The Proposal

Josephine

I swear I never meant to hurt you...

Josephine’s papa had tried to warn her. If you sold your soul to the devil, it would only be a matter of time before he came to collect. But Papa had never warned her the devil would be so handsome that she would be tempted to surrender that soul without a fight.

With his lips curved into a mocking smile and his fair hair tumbling around his face, Hero Fiennes Tiffin looked every inch the fallen angel. His cuffs had been shoved up to reveal muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. His stocking feet and the cravat hanging lose around the throat of his half-unbuttoned shirt only enhanced his disreputable air.

“You may scream if you like," he suggested pleasantly. “My cousin Mercy may adore me, but that doesn’t mean she'll stand for me accosting a helpless young lady in her bedchamber. If you yell loud enough, John might even come running from the barn, pitchfork at the ready."

Josephine had no intention of screaming. This was a dance only the two of them could do. “Swooning in front of the Bosworth sisters was humiliating enough. I’m not about to wake the whole household and frighten the children by screeching like some milksop maiden in one of Katy’s novels."

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, then. Just don’t forget I gave you the chance."

His eyes flicked lazily downward. When she had sat up so hastily, both the quilt and her nightdress had gone sliding down, baring one creamy shoulder. Struggling to appear casual, she reached for the wrapper draped across the foot of the bed. Hero got there at the same time she did.

“I don’t know why you’d want to bother to put on that crap," he said, gently tugging it from her hands and tossing it over Katy's bed. “We’ve had some of our best conversations while you were in your nightclothes." Although his voice was cool and crisp, his eyes glittered with an unfamiliar fire.

“You’ve been drinking," Josephine observed, settling back against the pillows and smoothing the quilt over her lap.

“I've been drinking all day," he confessed. “Although I was forced to stop a little while ago when I exhausted my father’s supply of brandy. Did you know he kept another bottle stashed inside the pianoforte?” Hero shook his head. “He might have had a tin ear for music, but you have to appreciate his resourcefulness."

“From what I hear, there was precious little else to appreciate about the man."

“Is that what Lady Martha told you?" Hero’s voice was deceptively light. “Ah, yes, dear, saintly Lady Martha! I was like a son to her, was I not?"

Josephine lowered her eyes, ashamed of her own monstrous cruelty, however unwitting. She would have gladly bitten out her own tongue to take back those careless words.

Hero frowned at her. “You disappoint me, my dear. I had rather hoped you would throw yourself at me and plead prettily for my forgiveness.”

“Would it do any good?” She slanted him a glance from beneath her lashes, halfway hoping he would say yes.

“No,” he admitted. “But it would have still proved very entertaining." He leaned one shoulder against the bedpost. “Along with my drinking, I've been doing quite a bit of reading today. Did you know that Lord Hardwick’s Act of 1783 made falsifying an entry in a marriage register with evil intent a capital offence?”

“If you’re going to have me executed, I wish you’d go ahead and summon the hangman,” Josephine snapped, frustration making her reckless. “He’s bound to be in a better temper than you.”