Josephine's Lists

Chapter 31- No Ordinary Party

Smile.

Do not ruin her evening.

This party will end soon enough.

Josephine eyed a small champagne tower, designed to impress. She could practically hear Constance's voice demanding that her engagement celebration not be complete without one. The decorations were the sort of excess for which her best friend had come to be known. Undoubtedly, Miss Whitmore had managed to give the modest affair an illusion of grandeur.

But no amount of ornaments would quell Miss Yorke's nerves. If Constance hadn't been her dearest friend, Josephine might have occupied her evening elsewhere. Perhaps, helping form a plan. Or, at the very least, pressing her father for more information. Instead, Josephine was eyeing a precarious set of drinking glasses cascading to a finish.

"I do believe my niece inherited her flare from me, did she not?" Lady Cavender appreciated, spoon swirling a rose pink custard, poised to take a delicate taste. "And where has your beau scampered off to?"

True to her unladylike roots, Josephine stole Lady Cavender's spoon, taking an unsolicited bite. After swallowing her ill-gotten gains, she answered, "Tennyson has scampered off with my father. The pair have been inseparable these past few days."

"Why do you sound as if someone robbed your reticule? You should be thrilled that the pair get on so well. Lord Cavender and my father, although friendly, had not a thing in common. One studied animals, meanwhile, the other shot them."

That coaxed a smile. Josephine wasn't jealous of Tennyson's time with her father, but she wasn't keen on being ignorant of the latest plans. Plans they were likely discussing that very moment. Sans Josephine. Her father had said they needed to follow his direction just so. But he had yet to say much at all. Aside from telling Josephine to enjoy Miss Whitmore's party, she was in the dark as to the next step. She knew Sir Hadley was playing a large role. But what that role was? Josephine hadn't a clue.

Besides that, her ire had not wholly dissipated. Both Tennyson and her father had lacked honesty. Lacked trust. Wounds that would heal, but still stung. Josephine envied Constance and her straightforward courtship. Boy meets girl. They fall in love. Both families thrilled. Say I do. Throw the rice. Live happily ever after. Must be nice.

"I am not so downtrodden. I simply...I...ugh I am not even sure anymore," Josephine struggled to express. "Do you ever just wish for a smooth road and all you encounter are divots? I suppose I am weary from all the jostling."

"My dear, no road is without challenges, and what we are able to tolerate is much dependent on the destination. The importance is loving where you are headed." Lady Cavender gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "But in my humble opinion, you are on the right road. Oh! Upon my word, my sister looks far too complacent. I must go and stir the pot!"

Tennyson was the right road, and worth every jostle. Leave it to Lady Cavender to simplify it so. Josephine was grateful for the reassurance.

Lady Cavender flitted away, and Miss Yorke searched about the room. Henry grinned at Josephine as she tip-toed to peer over top the glasses. "Looking for someone in particular?" he asked.

She spun around at his sudden appearance. "Henry. Well, well, well. What say you?" Josephine eyed is dandified ensemble with curiosity. "I am not sure I have ever seen you in such a powdered shade of blue." She barely controlled her mirth. A wonderful distraction he was.

Henry looked down as if assessing his own garments for the first time. Truth be told, he felt ridiculous, but pride would not permit that admission. "Why yes! I do not think I have ever owned this unforgettable color. You have my Aunt to thank for it. I am sure she was provoking me when she purchased it. But what better revenge than proudly flaunting her gift?"