Chapter 3
Joanna recalled, when she was six years of age, how she had decided to climb a tree because the stableboy was convinced that she couldn’t. She’d only made it up three branches before falling and landing on her back. That had knocked the air from her lungs so abruptly that she wondered if she had died but was still trapped in her body.
And then she began to breathe again.
The memory evaporated suddenly as the Duke stepped further into the room. It was smaller than her father’s study, although this house was twice as large as Crampton Manor.
As he moved closer to her, she feared he was stealing the air so she couldn’t breathe.
Resting a hand on her stomach, Joanna tried to find her words. “Good morning,” she managed weakly.
Inside her head echoed one refrain.
What have I done? Oh good Lord, what have I done?
Her father had told her once that stewing over ideas and problems into the late hours of the night didn’t do a soul an ounce of good. One needed time and sleep to separate them from the problem. However, Joanna hadn’t been able to do that. She had hardly slept in the last three days since Beatrice had threatened to marry her off to an old man just to get rid of her.
Although she had come up with many ideas on how to keep her freedom and establish her own life, every one of her plans required her father’s support. And the man refused to come home or speak with her. He claimed he was busy, but she feared it was something else.
He could, after all, be helping Beatrice find a husband for her. And Joanna knew she could never marry a man her stepmother had recommended.
Except, perhaps, for the rakish Duke of Henley.
It was desperation that had pushed Joanna to make such a plan. The moment her stepmother and stepsister left the house––where they went, she knew not, since Beatrice rarely told her anything––she finally had her chance. She’d put on her most worn cloak, took a hackney to the Duke’s residence, and slipped to the servants’ entrance.
Everything had gone according to plan. The butler had grudgingly brought her here without promising her anything. She had been second-guessing herself only a moment ago.
But now he was here. Nicholas Whitmore, the Duke of Henley. Though she couldn’t recall seeing him before, she could tell that he was indeed the Duke.
Her mouth ran dry the longer she stared at him. Unable to help it, she admired his strong features and sharp chin. He was thinner than she had imagined and perhaps three inches taller than her. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his cravat was slightly askew. Still, his masculine energy drew her in.
She couldn’t look away if she tried.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, My Lady?”
“I… I wanted to speak with you.”
He furrowed his brow, waiting for her to continue.
Hadn’t she devised a speech for this moment? Joanna swallowed and tried to think.
However, Nicholas did not look as flustered as she was. His eyes roamed over her from head to toe in a way that made her spine tingle.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he tilted his head and spoke again. “I haven’t summoned the modiste for my sister, since she wishes to continue wearing black crepe until the mourning period is over. You have the looks of a performer. Opera singer, perhaps? Seeking my patronage under the guise of a gently bred lady?”
A slight squeak of alarm escaped her lips.
The man was asking if she was a working woman! Hadn’t she told the butler that she was a lady of the ton? And she was surely dressed like a young woman.
Joanna ran her gloved hands over her dress just to make sure she was wearing her nicest dress. Her cloak was draped over a chair in the corner. One should look their best when proposing, she had thought.
Except the idea of a proposal had sounded much better in her head at the time. Now, she felt awkward and unprepared. Embarrassed.
Heat clung to her cheeks as she shook her head. At last, her tongue came loose. “I am not seeking your patronage, Your Grace.”
“So, you can speak.”
She held back the urge to huff or grunt at him. It didn’t matter if he was a bore, because no one could be as trying as her stepmother. She had to escape Beatrice’s control. Surely this was her best opportunity.
Reminding herself of what was at stake, Joanna managed to pull herself together. She dropped her hands to her sides. Lifting her chin much like Beatrice would in such a situation, she bravely moved closer to him.
She was so nervous that she was nearly shaking, but her resolve didn’t waver. She let out a long breath and finally managed to recall part of her speech.
“My sincerest apologies for the secrecy, Your Grace, but I needed a word with you.”
He pursed his lips. “Very well. I am all ears.”
“As the Duke of Henley, you are seeking a wife. All of London knows about this, and it has been confirmed by countless parties. In fact, you are looking for a wife with very few demands. A marriage of convenience, it would appear, as you don’t in any way lack connections, properties, or money. All you need is a lady of good breeding. Is this not the truth?”
Moving closer, the Duke crossed his arms over his chest. A strange light flickered in his eyes. They were such a soft brown they were nearly golden. “Is it?”
Joanna wavered for only a second before continuing. “I wish to offer myself as the perfect candidate, Your Grace. That is why I have come to you today.”
“Are you really?”
“I am,” she declared. “I’d had five governesses throughout the years to teach me how to manage a large household. I’m good with numbers as well as managing staff. Beyond that, I have never been caught in a scandal and have no such concerns tied to my name or that of my family. My father is the Earl of Ely, you see.”
His eyes had been roving over her again, making her wonder what he might be thinking.
Her father’s title made him pause. “I know the man, yes. Does he know that you have come here today?”
“Not exactly,” she admitted. “But I know he wants me to wed. I am twenty years of age, Your Grace, and in excellent health. I have all my teeth, I never get sick, and I am of sound mind.”
“Are you sure about that?” the Duke asked doubtfully.
Joanna couldn’t help but huff this time. “I certainly am. Beyond that, I can play the pianoforte and sing, I’m good enough at embroidery, and I write beautifully.”
“Can you ride?”
“I––no,” she admitted and then gave a quick shake of her head. “I can learn, if necessary, to ride and do anything else. But I assure you that I am of sound mind and body. More than that, I would not ask anything of you if we wed.”
For a second, she thought she saw his lips twitch.
“Truly?”
Taking that as a good sign, she stepped closer to him and clasped her hands together. “Yes! It would be a marriage on paper. I would not care what you did once we are wed, Your Grace. I would not scold you or be demanding. In fact, you could send me to the countryside if you wish.”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
Joanna hesitated, unsure how to explain. “Well, because I might not be… You might wish to… about town… I know London, and I could live here, of course. I would not be a bother.”
“Not a bother,” he echoed before giving a slow shake of his head. “And I thought my friends were madness personified. You know this cannot happen, My Lady. If your father knew you are here––”
“He doesn’t, I assure you.” Joanna noticed the dismissive look in the Duke’s eyes.
He didn’t want to marry her. He wouldn’t.
Desperate, she hastily tried to explain, “He is a good father, but he is hardly present. I have no one to help me, and I may be running out of options. I cannot be left to—to whatever else there is. Please, Your Grace. There is no one else who will help me. Surely I am exactly what you need. If not, I can certainly learn. I have been told I am clever. I can hold my tongue if you ask it of me. I don’t even care about your tarnished reputation and your rakish behavior.”
Her heart pounded harder with every sentence. The need to be heard, to be understood, was louder than anything.
Until she saw a dark look in his eyes that made her clamp her mouth shut, wondering what she could have said to upset him. When he stepped forward, she stepped back. His back stiffened, and he squared his shoulders.
“My reputation?” he echoed, with heat in his voice. “My behavior?”
“I…” Joanna bit her lip.
Surely he knew what London thought of him? The man must have loved his reputation to have kept it for so long. Even Joanna, who had been kept away in a corner all her life, knew of the young man who’d courted three opera singers from competing theaters at once and had been kicked out of two museums and at least five lectures. Everyone had a story about him, whether or not they’d actually met him.
However, it appeared that he didn’t care for this reputation now.
“Bold claims from a young lady who barged into my home unchaperoned,” he said shortly. “You know nothing about me. Who are you to speak so boldly about character? Should anyone discover you here, your reputation would be shattered. I myself mistook you for someone seeking an arrangement.”
Heat crawled up her face again when she realized what he meant by ‘seeking an arrangement.’
“I do not need that sort of arrangement.”
“No patronage?”
Her mouth dropped open. So, that was what he had meant. When he first spoke to her, she thought that patronage implied financial support. Not… something else.
She clutched the back of a high-back chair by the fireplace to keep from falling over. No one would have ever dared to assume that she was… that she might be anything like…
“I cannot believe it,” she sputtered, struggling to keep her composure. She drew on her anger to hide her embarrassment. “How could you assume something like that about me?”
The Duke stayed put but leaned forward. “It’s easy how one could make false assumptions, is it not?” he noted, his voice sharper now. “What a shame.”
Opening her mouth to respond, Joanna froze as she realized that the man was mocking her.
She felt her heart sink. Her cheeks grew hotter until she felt as though she was burning from humiliation. How could he act like this? The man might be young, but he had already taken on the mantle of an obnoxious lord with ease.
Her hands balled into fists. Feeling her anger rising, she shook her head and rounded the chair.
“What a stupid idea this was,” she muttered.
“Are you only now realizing this?” he drawled, turning to face her.
“I thought I was doing you a favor, as well as myself. But it’s clear we would not make a fine match. You cannot see beyond the size of your ego, Your Grace, and it appears that no room can fit us both.”
He scoffed. “Why do you think you can come and go as you please? This is not your house.”
“No, but it is not one in which I belong, as you have made it abundantly clear.”
Joanna made for the door but then stopped. A small ounce of reason clung to the little bit of sanity she had left. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she whirled around to face him.
“Yes?” he asked politely as if they were not in the middle of an argument.
All of her plans were falling apart. In truth, this had been the only plan. This one was supposed to work. But the Duke was impossible to speak with, as he was choosing to mock and needle her instead of having a reasonable conversation. Surely there was a reason why he was hardly welcome amongst the ton, for his manners were appalling.
I don’t think I have ever met such a frustrating man before.
Although Joanna wanted to shake him by the throat for how he frustrated her, she knew she couldn’t do that. She would never touch him, let alone speak to him again. He had proven to be like other lords whom her parents invited to their dinner parties, which she hated with passion.
Everyone was obnoxious, speaking of everything yet nothing. The way they talked was more important than the topics they discussed. It made her want to tear her hair out.
I only attended those parties because Madeline was invited and Beatrice could find no good excuse to explain why I couldn’t be present. But from now on, I shall do my best to find an excuse for her. I can no longer bear another night of talking to scoundrels like this man. In fact, this meeting is making me wish never to marry.
However, Joanna knew it was unlikely to be the case. She was a young lady of good breeding. Of course , she would marry.
And if she left here without a betrothal, then there was no telling how matters would end up for her. That made her worry.
Is it worth giving up myself for a marriage?
She let out a breath, barely holding back a groan. “I came here with a good reason, you know. A duke must marry––”
“I know it,” he interrupted.
“So you can marry anyone you like, no matter how well you get on with them.”
The Duke peered at her, the disbelief clear on his features. “You’re still speaking? After all of this? After the way you have treated me, you are still offering yourself?”
Unable to help herself, Joanna stomped a foot. That was it. This was over. She had clearly made a mistake, and she was not about to bury herself in it.
The Duke straightened, and she glared at him.
“Very well,” she said as snappishly as she could. The remnants of her dignity felt rather bruised. Still, she kept her head up. She just had to get out of there and go back home. “Since you can do nothing but mock me and insult me, I shall take my leave. It was a mistake to come here.”
The Duke tsked before she could turn away. “Are you certain? We’ve argued more in the past fifteen minutes of knowing one another than I’ve argued with anyone in the past five years. You don’t want to think about what a lifetime between us could look like?”
Scowling, she whipped her head away. It was the closest she could come to giving him the cut direct when it was just the two of them in this room.
Joanna turned on her heel and made for the door. Though it was heavy, she pushed it open and stepped into the hall.
“Wait, turn––” the Duke called after her.
Joanna couldn’t recall exactly which way she had come to the study, but since the house was so quiet, she thought it safe to take the main exit.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she hardly saw where she was going. All she knew was that she wanted to get out of there.
“My Lady––”
“You’re touching me,” she hissed when the Duke grabbed her upper arm.
She spun around to face him, only to push him back. There was an odd look on his face, but she didn’t care.
She didn’t care about any of this––she just wanted to be rid of him.
As soon as he let go of her, she made for the hall again, only to realize that she had taken a wrong turn. There was a small table set against the wall, on which sat three vases. Blue and white porcelain, she noted. Her right hip bumped into the edge, and she stumbled backward.
Her arms flailed as she tried to regain her balance, but to her dismay, she tripped over her feet and fell––only to land in the Duke’s arms.
“Oh,” she squeaked, dazed.
Those golden-brown eyes of his gleamed as they bored into hers, that odd look still on his face. Her chest heaved as she clung to his cravat. Although he was holding her tightly, it still felt very much as though the world was spinning around her.
“Goodness me!”
Joanna flinched. The voice was familiar but out of place.
She thought she heard the Duke mutter something very undukelike as she turned her head and tried to make out the scene through her lopsided vision.
There stood Beatrice, flanked by Madeline and Lady Lisabeth.
Lady Lisabeth was one of Beatrice’s closest friends and London’s most fearsome gossip. While Joanna had not yet had a Season, she knew of three instances where Lady Lisabeth had ruined opportunities for three young women who dared to make a mistake under her watch.
Four now.
“I…”
Joanna couldn’t think. She glanced back up at the Duke, fear slowly rising within her as she realized how compromising their position must seem.
A young lady never touched a gentleman unless they danced or he was escorting her. There was no such thing as an embrace, since every embrace was bound to be scandalous. Just like this one.
She pushed at his chest so he would release her. However, when he let go of her, she stumbled on the rug, and he was there again to steady her. His strong hands caught her shoulders and righted her.
“Careful there,” he murmured.
“The floor moved,” she hissed under her breath.
His only response was a dismissive scoff, proving he didn’t believe her. But whether or not he accepted that tripping and falling were also mistakes was not the most pressing issue.
When she glanced up, everyone stared at her in shock. Then, Lady Lisabeth’s alarm turned into devious glee.
Hastily, Joanna shrugged the Duke off. She struggled to breathe evenly, but she had never felt so flustered in her life.
Trying to gather her thoughts, she glanced back at the Duke and then at her stepmother and stepsister. “I was only… We were only…”
But the Duke slowly shook his head. He met the women’s eyes, and she saw his annoyance melt away into what she could only define as a suit of armor. The gold in his eyes dimmed. He pressed his lips tightly together. And then he gave her a courteous nod before turning to the women.
No, not a suit of armor. Rather, it is the cloak of a sacrificial lamb. Good Lord. He cannot do what I think he is about to do!
This was, Joanna realized with dismay, the very definition of a scandal. Feeling a heavy weight settle in her stomach, she sucked in a deep breath.
Her cheeks were still on fire. Had they been flushed when she left his study? Glancing back, she realized that the door to his study was ajar—meaning that anyone who stood in the hall would have seen the two of them exit together. Alone.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no. It was not supposed to go like this!
“Lady Lisabeth, Lady Ely, Lady Madeline,” Nicholas said slowly and deliberately. “My sincerest apologies for my absence and what you have just witnessed.”
“Indeed?” Lady Lisabeth asked with a raised eyebrow. She was a small, thin woman who looked like a rather pleased rat.
Hastening to dispel the growing tension, Joanna moved to stand next to her stepmother and stepsister. “Please, I didn’t mean to… to…”
Her stepmother had never looked so angry. Joanna didn’t doubt she would receive the sharpest tongue-lashing of her life once this was over. But she didn’t even have time to worry about that now.
Beatrice stepped forward with a hand raised toward her friend. “Lisabeth, dear, you know what the youth can be like. Making assumptions would surely get us nowhere, and I insist that this isn’t what it looks like.”
But Lady Lisabeth’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, indeed?”
“Indeed. This is my stepdaughter—you know her. Joanna hasn’t even had a Season. She’s nothing but a wayward child, insisting on causing trouble. But we cannot give that to her. All she desires is attention, and—I assure you—I shall give her plenty of that once I take her home.”
Joanna nodded eagerly. “Exactly, nothing happened!” she piped up, hoping it would mollify her family. “I made a mistake, but I don’t want to bring shame to my family. I’m terribly sorry, Stepmother. I shouldn’t have left the house without you like this. But I swear on my life that I only––”
“Be quiet,” Beatrice hissed.
The sound was so sharp that Joanna forgot to feel guilty for a moment. She paled, clasping her trembling hands together as her stepmother glared at her.
“What makes you think you could rectify this? You never learn from your mistakes. I cannot believe I have found you here of all places. Willful, jealous girl. How could you orchestrate something so devious just to spite your stepsister?”
“What?” Joanna squeaked.
The situation had spiraled out of control. Her bravery had fled.
She glanced between the women and shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that. Madeline.” She turned to her stepsister. “You must understand, it wasn’t like that. Forgive me, that was not what I intended. You must believe me.”
“I—” Madeline began
“Why should she believe you?” Beatrice scoffed, startling her. “Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”
As her stepmother spoke, Joanna silently pleaded with her stepsister to believe her. She needed to be heard. She needed to be understood.
But Madeline’s hesitant glance and slight nod weren’t enough. The young woman couldn’t openly oppose her mother, after all, leaving Joanna the sole target.
“Well, well, well. What an unfortunate situation we have found ourselves in,” Lady Lisabeth drawled, sounding nothing short of giddy. “Your Grace, I believe we shall cut our visit short today. And I expect you’ll be unavailable tomorrow as well?”
“It would appear that is the case. Lady Ely, I would like to call on your husband on the morrow, should he be available.”
Joanna felt her chest tighten with shame as she rocked on her heels, confused and humiliated by how her plans had gone so terribly wrong. She hardly understood it.
One glance back at Nicholas showed her the impassive face of a duke who fiercely sheltered his thoughts. He didn’t even look in her direction as she was ushered out the door.
It hardly mattered how regret gnawed at her on the ride home. Her stepmother shouted at her so loudly that their driver had to sheepishly inform her that they were causing a ruckus in the streets. But the silence was worse.
Joanna had caused a scandal, and now it was out of control.
As soon as they arrived at Crampton Manor, she was sent to bed without supper.
That night, she couldn’t even sleep. She watched the sun set and then slowly rise through her open curtains. Though her maid helped her dress and eat, she couldn’t feel or taste anything.
She was called downstairs as visiting hours started without the arrival of the Duke. Not that he would ask for her hand—she knew that much. He wouldn’t dare after their argument. He couldn’t stand her, and she didn’t think she could bear his presence either.
Sitting on the bottom step, Joanna leaned against the banister and listened to her stepmother shouting.
“If he doesn’t wed her, then Madeline is ruined! That girl of yours has been in the way from the very start. Joanna can’t marry the Duke, and now Madeline won’t marry. Do you truly wish to have three ladies relying on you? The entire family’s reputation will be ruined! No one will have us in London. No one!”
This was followed by her father’s muffled voice. He must have returned sometime in the evening, but Joanna couldn’t feel the usual excitement whenever he came back.
As the shouting continued, she closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear. She had thought that marrying the Duke would set her life on the right path. Instead, it had ruined everything.
She didn’t want to marry him. He was annoying and harsh and unfriendly, and that was just after meeting him for perhaps twenty minutes. What else would she discover if she spent the rest of her life with him?
That should have been her ticket out of this house. Even if it worked, Joanna didn’t want it anymore. Her stomach churned and twisted. She felt absolutely dreadful. Guilty. Humiliated. Awful.
She had only managed to take two bites of her scone before she had pushed aside the tray, unable to taste anything. She doubted she would ever enjoy food again.
But what does food matter when the future is at stake?
Madeline would never find a good match if Joanna didn’t marry the Duke. It pained her to know that Beatrice was right about that. But how could Joanna marry him? It was evident that he wouldn’t come and offer her marriage. A gentleman could do anything he pleased. If he didn’t want to marry her, then he wouldn’t.
Slowly rising to her feet, Joanna struggled to take a deep breath.
This was her fault. She had ruined everything. There had to be something she could do to mitigate the consequences. Not for her stepmother, but for her family as a whole. She just needed one more moment to gather her courage before facing the beast––
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.