A Kiss To Remember | Herophine

Chapter Twenty - The Cold Bed

Josephine

I pray every day that you will find a woman to share your life...

Josephine’s second wedding bore no resemblance to her first.

A chill rain began to fall shortly after they reached London, making the moonless night seem even darker. Instead of a beaming Reverend Tilsbury, the ceremony was presided over by a grumpy archbishop, who had been dragged out of his bed to produce a special license at the duke’s request. She and Hero were married in the grand drawing room of the archbishop’s palace with only Hero’s cousin and the smirking marquess in attendance. Although Mercy was forced to use her lace handkerchief to dab a tear from her eye, Josephine knew it wasn’t a tear of joy, but of dismay.

There was no Katy to hold Josephine’s posy, no Anthonyto stand proud and tall at her husband’s side, no Maggie to offer a hearty “Amen!” when the archbishop pronounced them man and wife.

Josephine had sacrificed her pride one last time to ask Hero if he would allow the children to accompany her to London, but he had refused, telling her, “I can’t be looking over my shoulder all the time, waiting for someone to shove me down the stairs in my own house."

So she’d been forced to bid her family farewell in the manor’s curving drive with Hero watching the entire scene, his handsome face revealing nothing.

John had stood with his hat crumpled in his hands, his craggy face set in lines of misery. “This is all my doin’, missie. I thought to put a halt to the weddin’, not see you leg-shackled to the devil for all eternity."

Josephine had touched a hand to his bruised cheekbone, still appalled that he had suffered so on her account. “It’s not your fault, John. I have only myself to blame."

Maggie had been waiting to fold Josephine into her arms, her flour-streaked apron smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg. “Don't lose heart, my little lamb," she had whispered. “Any man who’ll choke down a dozen dry crumpets just to spare an old woman’s feelings can’t be as wicked as they say he is.”

Josephine had turned to find Katy and Anthony standing beside the open door of the town coach. Although Katy’s bottom lip was quivering, she managed a tremulous smile. “Everyone knows I’m the Incomparable Beauty of the family. Who would have thought you’d be the one to snare a rich husband?”

“He’d best take good care of you,” Anthony had said, shooting Hero a look that was more wounded than threatening. “If he doesn’t, he’ll answer to me.”

Choking back a sob, Josephine had knelt down and opened her arms to them. There simply weren’t any words. Thanks to Lady Martha’s generosity, the three of them had never been separated, not even for a night. Josephine had never imagined there would come a time when she couldn’t reach out to smooth one of Katy’s curls or rub a smudge of dirt from Anthony’s nose.

They had remained locked in a fierce embrace until Josephine had drawn away, forcing a brave smile through her tears.

Hero’s expression had never changed, not when he handed her into the plush velvet squabs and not when the coach went rocking past the churchyard where his mother was buried.

“... if either of you knows any reason why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you do now confess it.” The archbishop’s nasal whine jerked Josephine back to the chilly drawing-room.

Hero's warm breath stirred her hair as he leaned down and whispered, “Is there anything you’d like to share?"

Josephine shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.