“Lord Warren made Josephine sit with him in the grand parlor, and relate over and over how they had fallen in love at Lord Baxter’s house party, and how blissfully happy they were. If she complained about it, or said the wrong sort of things in company, he took her upstairs and spanked her bottom until it smarted to sit down. Meanwhile, planning for the ball continued. Josephine overheard the servants muttering about the size of the guest list—five hundred confirmed and counting. Five hundred? T...he idea of it filled her with terror. She wished some natural disaster would happen before the appointed night, some cyclone or monsoon to deliver her from her fate, but English weather was nothing like Africa’s or India’s. Josephine thought of running away, at least until after the ball, but where would she go? And how? Even if she could flee to Maitland Glen, it was a hollow wreck of a place not fit for inhabitants, and Lord Warren would only fetch her and make her come back. At night, he spent hours in her room, distracting her when she fretted about the ball.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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