Thunder & Roses

Chapter Thirteen

Wryly she realized that this was another, subtler, form of seduction. It was intoxicating to be treated like a lady, to have her opinions respected. Knowing that the situation was temporary helped her keep it in perspective.

As they climbed the marble steps, her sense of well-being began to erode. Until now, it had amused Hero to have Josephine for a companion. But London would hold many other, more exciting amusements. In fact, he might become bored with her and send her home before the week was out.

Then she would have won, wouldn't she?

The grand rooms and lavish furnishings of Westgate House proved to be in good condition, though years of emptiness had given it the impersonal air of a hotel. Hero blandly introduced Josephine to the small staff as his cousin, as he had when booking separate rooms at inns on the trip to London.

At first, the servants didn't know quite what to make of Josephine . She guessed that she seemed too dowdy to be an aristocratic relation, but she was an even more unlikely candidate to be a mistress. However, the servants were Londoners and hard to shock, so they shrugged their collective shoulders and obeyed her orders in return for their generous pay. She found that she was indifferent to their private opinions of her; there was much to be said for living among strangers rather than with people whom she had known her whole life.

Josephine awoke to her first day in the city bubbling with excitement. When she came downstairs, Hero was already in the breakfast parlor, drinking coffee and reading the Morning Post. He rose politely when she came in. "Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Not really—Mayfair is almost as noisy as the Penreith mine. But I expect I'll get used to it." Josephine glanced at the Morning Post. "Imagine, being able to read a newspaper the very day it's published rather than weeks later! Such luxury."

Smiling, he poured her a steaming cup of tea. "London is the center of the world, Jo. Much of the news is made here."

After she had selected a breakfast from the heated dishes on the sideboards, they both took seats. Hero said, "I've been looking at the society notes. No mention of Lord Michael Kenyon or the Earl of Strathmore, but the Duke of Candover is in town."

Josephine felt a touch of alarm. "A duke?"

Accurately interpreting her expression, he said, "That's Rafe. Don't worry, he may be a duke and richer than Croesus, but he never allows it to make him insufferable. He's a great believer in restrained gentlemanly behavior."

"I've always been curious about what makes a man a gentleman, apart from money and the right ancestors."

He grinned and folded the newspaper. "According to Rafe, an English gentleman is never rude except on purpose."

"I don't find that a comforting definition," she said with a smile. "I suppose the Earl of Strathmore is your friend Lucien."

"Precisely. Don't worry, exalted though they might be, my friends are a tolerant lot—they have to be, to put up with me." He smiled remiscently. "I met Lucien at Eton when four boys decided that anyone as foreign-looking as I was should be beaten. Lucien thought the odds were unsporting, so he came into the fray on my side. It cost us both black eyes, but we managed to drive the others off and have been friends ever since."

"I think I approve of the Earl of Strathmore." Josephine finished her eggs and sausage. Not as good as Mrs. Howell's, but quite acceptable. "Are any of the Fallen Angels married, or is that against the Code of the Rakes?"

"As far as I know they're all single, though I've been away so long that anything could have happened." He dug into his pocket and pulled out several banknotes, then handed them to Josephine. "Take this. London is an expensive place, and you'll need some pin money."