𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | b. bridgerton

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟖𝟏𝟐 | part two

Josephine Marie Howard loved Rafael Fernández indefinitely. She was unsure about many things in her life but she did indeed love him, she was certain.

The past month felt like a dream, to put it simply.

Jo had made good on her promise to Rafael to see him again. The next ball had been just as dizzyingly magical as the first one had - even moreso, in fact - with two more dances followed by another promise to meet again once they had finished. Rafael did not even need to verbalise it. He had just simply raised an eyebrow expectantly once the music had come to an end and Jo nodded, once, secretly, and the night after unfolded similarly.

However, as lovestruck as the pair might have been, they were also smart, and knew that they needed to proceed with caution in public so they did not unintentionally court scandal.

Jo had been the first to suggest it to Rafael, barely a second after the man had risen from his bow opposite her on the dance floor. He had laughed, initially, but agreed, and the pair readily devised a plan of action in hushed tones during the entirety of their first dance.

It was simple. Rafael could never dance with Jo within the first half-an-hour of the ball, only after, he could never dance with her twice in a row anymore and never more than twice in one night. And if he did want to dance with her twice in one night - which he always did - he also needed to dance with at least three other ladies twice as well. Furthermore, Jo had to accept all offers to dance from any gentleman that asked; it would hardly be appropriate if Rafael was the only one she danced with all evening.

Even though they had both agreed to those terms, Jo's childish insecurities sequestered her reason and she worried that in those moments she left him unattended, someone prettier, funnier, or more charming than she would swoop in and steal Rafael away. But he would always send her a secret smile or a nod whenever he could to put her mind at ease.

It felt so agonising and tedious for them at first to watch the other person for the majority of the night dancing with other people, but it was all worth it for those precious ten minutes that they could spend in each other's company. Life had never been better, and everything was going to plan.

The night ahead was set to follow the same way and Jo could hardly wait. She had her slippers in one hand, her shawl in the other, while continuing down the stairs, excitement barely contained.

Jo had just about reached the front doors when she heard a sound, a creak of the floorboards from inside the study-turned-library down the hallway. She paused, thinking that she had maybe heard wrong. It was far too late for any staff to be cleaning, not that anyone really went near the study anyway, at Jo's behest. And Señora Flores had dismissed herself to her chambers after supper hours ago.

Jo balanced her shawl and slippers in a pile on the bottom step of the staircase before carefully sneaking down the hallway that the study was located on, spotting a crack of light peeking out of the bottom of the door.

A light that should not have been on.

Her heart stuttered. All nights before this one she had been able to leave fairly seamlessly. Jo debated checking the room; perhaps it truly was just a wayward maid tidying the shelves. But, she reasoned, to be cautious is to be smart, and surely no harm would come from her double-checking.

Jo reached a gloved hand out to turn the rusted handle, the hinges of the door creaking as she pushed it open.

"Josephine," a measured voice called out.

The girl jumped back in shock, letting out a small gasp.

Her governess was sitting casually on the chaise in the far corner of the room, reading a book, simmering in the lamplight. Alma considered the sight of Jo over the top of her page, before slamming the book shut zealously. "I thought you had gone to bed."