Chapter Twenty - The Two Husbands

367 31 12
                                    

Josephine

Twisting and wrenching herself free of his grasp, Josephine backed away, the horror of his words settling in the pit of her stomach

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Twisting and wrenching herself free of his grasp, Josephine backed away, the horror of his words settling in the pit of her stomach.

"That can't be. I... I..." She pressed a hand to her mouth. In the beginning, hadn't she thought countless times that it was as though she was married to a stranger? Hadn't she wondered at his reticence?

Yet she'd fallen in love with the man she married. She'd discovered a gentleness, an extreme kindness. She enjoyed his company, enjoyed every aspect of being with him.

"You know I speak true, Jo. I can see it in your eyes."

She thought what he saw in her eyes were tears, because her eyes and throat burned. She felt the moisture roll over onto her cheeks. He was familiar, a familiarity that reached far beyond the shape of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the green of his eyes. She had spent time in this man's company. Why did she recognize the truth of it now and not when she'd first seen him standing before the window?

"It's possible," she rasped. "I recognize you, not as a stranger, but as someone I've known."

"Someone with whom you've danced while you wore a white gown decorated with pink roses and lace?"

Her heart thudded at the reminder of what she'd been wearing the night she first met the Duke of Gloucester.

"Someone who fed you strawberries dipped in sugar while you picnicked by the Thames?"

Her chest tightened to the point that she could barely breathe.

"Someone who asked you to honor him by becoming the Duchess of Gloucester?"

She released a strangled cry. Oh, dear Lord, he could only know those things if he was the one who'd experienced them. Her trembling legs weakened, and she found herself dropping into a nearby chair.

"I don't understand," she whispered, hating the doubts and fears she heard reflected in her voice.

"There's no reason that you should." His tone was kind. "For as long as I can remember, Eros has coveted what was mine by right. As the firstborn son, I stood to inherit everything. It is English law, entailment—"

"I am exceedingly familiar with English law," she snapped, losing patience, desperate for him to get to the crux of the matter. She held out slim hope that perhaps it was all a horrible joke. Part of her felt violated, and yet a larger part of her simply wanted to see her husband, to have him hold her, to have him tell her that everything would be all right.

Only it wasn't her husband standing before her now. It was someone else, from another lifetime.

He gave her a wry smile. "Of course you are. But as my brother wanted my titles, my estates, it stands to reason that he would also want to possess my lady."

Succession | HerophineWhere stories live. Discover now