with heads ducked together, intriguing. A break in the general conversation of the room as Lady Berclair cleared her throat, allowed Josette to catch the last of what Caroline was saying: "…that she wasn't half as spirited as the younger sister."
As if in reply, Amy, finding her in the crowd, gave her a flitting glance.
Josette strained to hear more but it was lost as the other guests seated themselves. She knew immediately it was her self of whom they spoke, and there was only one person in the room who would not find Josette Price spirited. Upon that determination, he took a seat right beside her.
Josette stared at the tiny program in her hands and tried to make sense of the words. She was aware that the pianoforte was being played, but more so, was attuned to the intimidating presence only a hair’s breadth away from her side.
“How is your mother?” asked Carter's deep voice, and to her dismay, Josette jerked in surprise. “She's well.”
“And your father?”
From the corner of her eye, Josette sensed him staring straight ahead as if intrigued by the music. She suspected it was a struggle for him to find anything amiable to say. “My father is managing.”
“And you and your sister?”
Josette looked down at the somber hue of her gown and shuffled her feet. Why did he quiz her so? How long did it take for one to move past the agony of losing a loved one? “I’m sorry I cannot tell you that we have happily forgotten our brother.”
“I did not wish to hear it.”
“Then what did you wish to hear?”
“That you have, at the very least, found solace.”
“I’m certain my sister has.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
Remembering his deceitful impression of George’s death, she countered sharply. “It would have been helpful to know precisely how my brother passed.”
He glanced toward her with some confusion.
“My cousin was the one to inform me of how it came about.”
After a few passing moments, Carter said, “It does not matter how he gave his life. I would never paint him any less a hero to any man or any family.”
“You truly believe that?” she asked in distain.
“He was one of the best officers I have ever known. I did not wish to further your pain.”
This left Josette with nothing to reply, and she strained to force her attention on the performance.
The captain cleared his throat and crossed one ankle over the other. After a very competent stanza, he said, “You intend to perform with your sister?”
“It's written on the program.”
“I'm sure it will be first-rate.”
“I play for Amy to sing.”
“She sings well.”
“Like an angel.”
“And looks the part this evening.”
“I'll be sure to tell her so.” Josette gave the captain a quick glance. In profile, his nose was rather large and straight. His eyes, green and oval, were framed by short, dark lashes. He had a pretty jaw with high cheekbones but his mouth was masculine and full. He shifted his gaze to her at her evaluation, and she blinked, turning quickly back to the fire blazing at the front of the room.
The audience applauded, and Josette joined them. Her mother's fan, dangling from the scarlet cord on her wrist, jiggled rebelliously. She caught it up and folded her arms in her lap.
Beside her, Captain Carter shifted in his seat as a young woman stood to sing. It became more akin to yowling after a few moments. He sighed.
Josette sniffed to stifle a laugh. What would he think of an unspirited woman who giggled during concerts?
To her surprise, he leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “I met your cousin in London.”
“Yes, he informed me he made your acquaintance.” Josette found the reply difficult because she could suddenly smell Carter as strongly as she could feel him. Sea damp and sunshine, and something very fresh, like laundered linens. She closed her eyes and the scent traveled from her nose, down into her throat, and she swallowed it. Her eyes snapped open. Bother! What was
As if in reply, Amy, finding her in the crowd, gave her a flitting glance.
Josette strained to hear more but it was lost as the other guests seated themselves. She knew immediately it was her self of whom they spoke, and there was only one person in the room who would not find Josette Price spirited. Upon that determination, he took a seat right beside her.
Josette stared at the tiny program in her hands and tried to make sense of the words. She was aware that the pianoforte was being played, but more so, was attuned to the intimidating presence only a hair’s breadth away from her side.
“How is your mother?” asked Carter's deep voice, and to her dismay, Josette jerked in surprise. “She's well.”
“And your father?”
From the corner of her eye, Josette sensed him staring straight ahead as if intrigued by the music. She suspected it was a struggle for him to find anything amiable to say. “My father is managing.”
“And you and your sister?”
Josette looked down at the somber hue of her gown and shuffled her feet. Why did he quiz her so? How long did it take for one to move past the agony of losing a loved one? “I’m sorry I cannot tell you that we have happily forgotten our brother.”
“I did not wish to hear it.”
“Then what did you wish to hear?”
“That you have, at the very least, found solace.”
“I’m certain my sister has.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
Remembering his deceitful impression of George’s death, she countered sharply. “It would have been helpful to know precisely how my brother passed.”
He glanced toward her with some confusion.
“My cousin was the one to inform me of how it came about.”
After a few passing moments, Carter said, “It does not matter how he gave his life. I would never paint him any less a hero to any man or any family.”
“You truly believe that?” she asked in distain.
“He was one of the best officers I have ever known. I did not wish to further your pain.”
This left Josette with nothing to reply, and she strained to force her attention on the performance.
The captain cleared his throat and crossed one ankle over the other. After a very competent stanza, he said, “You intend to perform with your sister?”
“It's written on the program.”
“I'm sure it will be first-rate.”
“I play for Amy to sing.”
“She sings well.”
“Like an angel.”
“And looks the part this evening.”
“I'll be sure to tell her so.” Josette gave the captain a quick glance. In profile, his nose was rather large and straight. His eyes, green and oval, were framed by short, dark lashes. He had a pretty jaw with high cheekbones but his mouth was masculine and full. He shifted his gaze to her at her evaluation, and she blinked, turning quickly back to the fire blazing at the front of the room.
The audience applauded, and Josette joined them. Her mother's fan, dangling from the scarlet cord on her wrist, jiggled rebelliously. She caught it up and folded her arms in her lap.
Beside her, Captain Carter shifted in his seat as a young woman stood to sing. It became more akin to yowling after a few moments. He sighed.
Josette sniffed to stifle a laugh. What would he think of an unspirited woman who giggled during concerts?
To her surprise, he leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “I met your cousin in London.”
“Yes, he informed me he made your acquaintance.” Josette found the reply difficult because she could suddenly smell Carter as strongly as she could feel him. Sea damp and sunshine, and something very fresh, like laundered linens. She closed her eyes and the scent traveled from her nose, down into her throat, and she swallowed it. Her eyes snapped open. Bother! What was
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