Marry in Haste (The Vaughns #2)

Chapter 18

T he sunlight shifted in the window, drawing across the room as Joanna lay on her bed. In time, the tears eased, but only because she hadn’t any more to spare, and her itching eyes stared at the fireplace, unblinking.

What was she to do? What could she do? They were married, and she hadn’t the power to undo that action any more than she had the power to make her husband love her. That thought rang through her, silencing everything else as her gaze unfocused, leaving her empty and listless on the bed— their bed.

That thought proved she had some tears left as they gathered in the corners, though not enough to fall.

Sounds of movement echoed through the house, though the emptiness that had taken hold of her didn’t allow Joanna to understand what was happening below. And still, the sunlight drifted across the floor, dimming as the hours wore on.

A knock at the door broke through her numbness, but not enough for her to speak. Joanna’s eyes turned to the wood as the latch lifted, though the lock barred it from opening.

“Joanna?” called Edward.

Everything inside her tensed, and she curled in on herself. She couldn’t see him. What would she say? What would she do? What little strength she had sparked within her, dredging up the memories of everything she’d said and done whilst believing their marriage was a love match, and heat swept through her anew, burning her as her heart couldn’t decide whether to stop beating altogether or break through her ribs.

“Open the door,” he pleaded. “I heard you received some upsetting news. What happened?”

Joanna couldn’t speak, but she shifted her legs to the side of the bed, her skirts and limbs hanging limply as she considered what to do. The concern in his tone had her insides twisting until she felt liable to be sick; pressing a hand to her stomach, she crumpled the letter.

How could he have led her to believe they were in love? How could he raise her expectations like that? Yet even as flames crackled within her, reality settled like a fine mist, helping to keep the fire in check with the small grain of happy truth that Mr. Bell had given her.

Edward had been protecting her and making the best of a bad situation. Could she fault him for such a thing? Never once had he explicitly led her to believe his feelings were anything more. Aunt Patricia had done the bulk of that damage, leaving Edward to suffer the consequences when the truth came to light.

This wasn’t his fault. He was merely the victim of a prank and a fatigued chaperone’s machinations, and he’d done the honorable thing at a high personal cost. Edward was an incredible man, burdened with a wife he didn’t love but was doing his best to treat her well, regardless.

He knocked again, and the thought of admitting her mistake to him made her body clench and her innards squirm. It was bad enough that she knew her shame; she didn’t need Edward to know just how great a fool she’d been.

Yet he was her husband. Honesty was required of any good marriage, and regardless of how theirs began, it was clear that Edward was trying to make a go of it.

Bile rose in her throat as she considered that. He was “making a go of it.” Rubbing at her forehead, she winced against the phrase that was tacked onto every miserable pairing.

Casting aside her conscience, she bound up her bruised and aching pride. She had been the laughingstock for long enough, and if Edward wanted to pretend, she would gladly accept that. Forcing her throat to swallow, Joanna rose unsteadily to her feet as Edward continued to call for her. Quietly, she moved to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. Pulling open the polished panel, she flattened Mr. Bell’s letter and retrieved a different missive to replace it.

“Coming,” she said, though her voice was so quiet she could hardly hear it herself. But Edward’s knocking subsided as she closed the wardrobe and walked to the door.

Throwing back the bolt and turning away in one fluid movement, Joanna stepped to the bed before sitting heavily on the edge, the false letter in her hand. Edward opened the door and came to where she sat, crouching before her, and her eyes moved to his of their own accord; though she had no tears to give, her expression crumpled at the concern shining bright in his gaze.

“What happened? Mother said you received some terrible news—”

Joanna held up the decoy letter, and Edward took it from her and unfolded it, his eyes quickly scanning down the page. With a furrowed brow, he peeked at her.

“This is from your father.”

Nodding, Joanna forced herself to swallow again. It required no acting for her to draw in a shuddering breath and turn away from Edward’s prying eyes.

“It sounds as though he is doing well.” Edward turned his attention to the letter, his brow pulled low as he studied it.

“I was genuinely pleased to receive his missive. At first. But it’s not so much what he said as what he didn’t say,” she whispered. Dryness took hold of her mouth, and she had just a moment of apprehension before she leapt into the explanation. “I have never been apart from my father before, and yet he waited weeks before writing. And when he deigned to do so, it was naught but a sterile recitation of details about his life.”

Edward nodded toward the bottom. “He asks after you.”

“But he never said that he misses me.”

Pointing toward the short paragraph at the end, he read, “‘The house feels empty with only me here.’”

Joanna forced the letter aside, shaking her head. “It doesn’t say he misses me . It doesn’t say he wishes I were there, just that any company would alleviate the emptiness of the house.” Pausing, she forced herself to speak the next words. “He never says he loves me. It’s as if he were writing to an acquaintance or distant relative—not his only child.”

For all that this had begun as a distraction, Joanna had hidden the letter away because she hadn’t wanted to address these feelings, and with her heart in such a delicate state already, she couldn’t brace herself against the revelation that had arrived in that missive several days ago.

“I always knew he didn’t love me like other fathers love their children, but this…” Her voice cracked, and she struggled to speak. “This makes it clear how little he cares about me.”

Frowning at the letter, Edward set it aside and settled onto the bed beside her, wrapping her in his arms. For all that she wished to keep her distance at present, Joanna couldn’t help leaning into him and burying her face in his chest; breathing deeply, she reveled in the medicinal scent that was synonymous with the Vaughn family.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, his hands caressing her back. “But I think his feelings are far more complicated than loving or not loving you. If he cared nothing for you, wouldn’t he have simply sent you to live with your aunt rather than keeping you at home with him? He doesn’t strike me as someone to tolerate having an unwanted person underfoot.”

That ought to comfort her. That sign alone ought to mean something. Yet her final day with her father surfaced in her memory, reminding her how determinedly he refused to look at her. But then, had he known the truth of her marriage? Was Papa mortified that his daughter had been forced into matrimony?

That thought brought all new pains and unanswerable questions, and she forced them away.

“And he gave you a healthy dowry,” added Edward. “Money doesn’t equate to love, but if he cared little for you I doubt he would’ve bothered. I know of a few fathers who wouldn’t stir themselves to worry about such things.”

Yet he refused to name her as his heir. No law or restrictions bound the Crosby money in a manner that required him to choose a male, yet he would rather hand his family’s money to a distant cousin as long as he bore the Crosby name. However, Joanna didn’t bother arguing that point as many patriarchs in the country believed it was their duty to keep inheritances in the family name.

Edward sighed and held fast to her, his voice low as he added, “I won’t say he is a prime example of fatherly affection, but I don’t think his feelings are so clearly defined.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Joanna swallowed past her tight throat. “Perhaps, but I think he always blamed me for my mother’s death and resented that I survived instead of her.”

Edward’s hold pulled her closer, though she couldn’t burrow any deeper into him. “Then he is a fool. You are a treasure, Joanna.”

Such tender words spoken in an earnest tone. Had she heard them a few hours earlier, they might have bound the bits of her heart that had broken the first time Joanna recognized Papa’s apathy for what it was, but Edward spoke not as a sweetheart but as yet another person who cared for her but didn’t love her, and it crushed those remnants to dust.

She let out a shuddering breath, and her tears seized her anew as her husband held her close, never realizing he was the source of her sorrow.

***

Awareness broke through the haze of dreams, forcing Joanna to release her hold on the fantasy world that existed only in sleep. Sunlight peeked through the curtains and warned that the morning was well underway, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. Not yet. Not when it meant embracing the first day of her new marriage.

Edward surrounded her as he always did, and she forced herself to remain still, as their legs and feet were hopelessly tangled together and his arm lay heavily on her hip. The bed was not so large that they could sleep apart, yet it wasn’t so small as to require her to be plastered to his chest as she was. The neck of his nightshirt gaped open, and her nose brushed against the bare patch of skin.

Peeking at him, Joanna longed to reach into the curly mop of hair and lose her fingers in the soft locks. In sleep, that infectious smile was safely tucked away, and seizing the opportunity, she studied his face, her eyes tracing every feature—none of which would be considered overtly handsome on their own, but when paired with the kind soul beneath them, were quite eye-catching, indeed.

Her eyes tingled anew, and Joanna forced the whispers of tears away, but her heart pushed against her ribs, reaching for him with abandon. Her breathing quickened, and her eyes bored into his eyelids, wishing they would open. To see his lips pull into a pleased smile. To see some sign that perhaps—just perhaps—his feelings had altered in the past two months. It was possible.

And if not, Edward might return her affection eventually.

“Please…” The word barely formed on her lips; it was hardly a sound, but Joanna couldn’t keep that hope buried entirely. It pressed against her chest, begging to be heard, and she couldn’t stop herself from whispering, “Please love me.”

Three little words, yet the whole of her heart was laid bare in that plea. Countless other moments rang with the same hope that Joanna had harbored through so much of her life. For someone to feel for her what she felt for them. For once, to have her affection returned in equal measure. Taking hold of that hope with both hands, she clutched it tight to her as the plea echoed in her thoughts.

Joanna lifted a hand, her fingertips hovering above his cheek—and he shifted, letting out a heaving breath as he burrowed his head into the pillow. Jerking back, she stared at his still form, searching for any sign that Edward was awake, but his chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm.

Heat spread through her, bringing her shame to light as she considered the manner in which she was plastered to him, which brought forth all the memories in which she’d gladly lapped up the pretense. How readily she’d believed such a ridiculous lie.

For goodness’ sake! She had seen the man the night before the wedding announcement, and Edward hadn’t treated her any differently than he had on every other occasion their paths had crossed. Yet, with the barest of prodding from Aunt Patricia, Joanna had tossed aside what little sense she possessed and leapt headfirst into believing that all her patient waiting had paid off.

Carefully, she pulled her legs free of him and turned away, curling on the edge of the mattress. What a fool she was!

But her thoughts stuttered to a halt when Edward’s arm came around her once more, draping across her hip, his fingers caressing her stomach before stilling again. Joanna froze in place, listening for the tell-tale signs that he was awake, but Edward remained asleep.

Shifting slowly, she inched further away, though she couldn’t get out of arm’s reach—which he proved when the hand anchored her in place. Face aflame, she swallowed against the tightness in her throat. With each display of naivete flashing through her memories, she couldn’t bear his touch, yet with every shift, he moved alongside her.

Joanna’s precarious position on the edge of the mattress gave way to gravity, and with a startled squeal, she slid over the side and landed in a heap on the floor. The movement ripped the bedclothes off, dumping them atop her as she rested her head on the floorboards with a grunt.

A rustle was all the warning she received before Edward peeked over the edge, his curls pulling every which way as he stared at her through sleep-crusted eyes.

“What are you doing there?” he asked, rubbing his face.

Joanna sighed and mumbled, “Just making a fool of myself, but that is nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Pardon?”

Forcing a smile, she gave him a partial truth. “Someone was invading my side of the bed.”

Edward straightened, shaking off the remnants of his sleep as he rose and crouched beside her to help her up. When she was on her feet, his brows came together as he studied her expression.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

Oh, that was not the question she wished to answer. For all that the container was cracked and broken, her heart held too much inside it to manage another conversation about her father or her husband. Gathering it all together, Joanna stuffed those thoughts and everything attached to them deep down until they were lost to the light of day.

“Better,” she said with a nod. “It is difficult to be dismal with such an important day ahead of us. I cannot wait to get the keys from Mr. Sweet and see our new home. Aren’t you eager to settle there?”

“Yes…” He dragged the word out as though uncertain of his answer, and he watched her with a puzzled frown, studying her far too closely for her liking. So, Joanna spun around and hurried to the wardrobe. If one was occupied with work, one didn’t have time for unpleasant conversations or thoughts.