Marry in Haste (The Vaughns #2)

Chapter 27

S weeping into the parlor, Joanna propped her fists on her hips and glowered at her husband’s back as he settled into his makeshift bed on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Edward settled his hands behind his head as though comfortably reposing, though his feet hung so far over the edge that they were practically on the floor. “We haven’t a guest room prepared, so I am making do.”

“You are being ridiculous!”

With his eyes turned to the ceiling, his expression looked set in stone. “You are the one who doesn’t want me near you. I am merely honoring your request and shan’t trouble you anymore.”

“For goodness’ sake,” she huffed, her hands falling to hang by her side. “Why are you being so difficult? We are friends, and I am happy with the arrangement. All I am asking is for you to stop pretending to be something we are not. What is so wrong with that?”

“What is so wrong with protecting you from gossip?” he demanded in a low tone.

“I do not require protection.”

Edward’s jaw tightened as his eyes seared the plaster overhead, and she marched to his side, yanking the blanket off him.

“Leave me alone, Joanna.”

“You are not going to sleep here like some sulking child,” she said, attacking the pillow next and tugging it out from under his head (which fell onto the armrest). “We are husband and wife, and we are going to act like it—”

“But only in the manner you deem appropriate,” he retorted with a hard look at her. “Why are you being so obstinate?”

Straightening, she clutched the pillow and blanket to her and lifted her chin, looking down her nose at him. “You’ve lectured me for months about being more forceful in my opinions. You were the one who didn’t want a groveling wife. Do not complain now because I no longer wish to concede to your every whim. You cannot have it both ways, Edward.”

With one final heave, she grabbed up all his bedding and dragged it from the parlor.

*

Hearing his words tossed back at him made everything inside him tense as heat raged through him, yet Eddie knew there was no way to argue against it. The childish part of him longed to bury his head in the sand and dismiss the accusation, but there was just enough reason left in his mind to push him upright, following his wife as she led them to their bedchamber.

Depositing his bedding in the corner, she climbed into their bed, giving her back to him as he took his place beside her. It wasn’t as though the mattress was large enough to sleep apart, yet Joanna was doing her utmost to keep any part of her from touching him.

“Oh, yes, this is preferable to the sofa,” he muttered.

With a huff, Eddie turned onto his side, giving her his back as well before turning down the lamp. Darkness enveloped the room, though there was no rest to be found. The tautness in his wife’s muscles and her determined breathing made it clear Joanna would not be resting easy any time soon, but Eddie closed his eyes and relaxed into the mattress.

As the French proverb said, “There is no pillow so soft as a clear conscience,” and he was quite happy with how comfortable his own was—though anything was better than the sofa arm.

Joanna was absurd. Tossing him aside one minute and then insisting they share a bed the next. The woman made no sense whatsoever! But then, she was the one that was struggling to sleep. There were proverbs and quotes aplenty about the anxiety attached to guilty consciences, which Joanna was about to discover in spades.

Why wouldn’t she just accept his assistance rather than tossing it back in his face as though his sacrifices meant nothing? Didn’t she understand how much he’d done for her? Yet even as his thoughts lingered on the infuriating warrior that had swept into the parlor to plague him, her accusation rang through his thoughts, worming its way into his dreams.

Eddie had asked for this.

***

Morning light seeped through the curtain edges, which had been nudged aside by the bedding she had carelessly dropped the night before. Her muscles felt like wet sand, her head heavy and aching, and Joanna cursed the light that pierced her eyes. Squeezing her lids closed, she felt something tickle her hip and lifted her head enough to find Edward’s hand lying across the pillow that formed the delineation between them, his fingers invading her space, though the depth of his breathing made it clear he was still lost to the world.

Joanna tried not to move, but the tightness in her muscles needed to be addressed, and carefully, she stretched and twisted her limbs this way and that, eliciting several loud pops in her neck that drew a sigh of relief. As she settled back into her pillows, her left shoulder ached from being so thoroughly used the night before, but the bed wasn’t wide enough for her to lie on her back while Edward invaded her territory.

So she settled onto her right—to find him watching her through foggy eyes. His lids opened and closed so slowly that Joanna wasn’t certain if he was truly awake or merely twitching in his sleep. But when he squeezed his hand, his gaze fell to the pillow barrier.

“Was that necessary?” he grumbled, rolling over onto his back as he scrubbed at his face with a yawn.

The question had a ring of the rhetorical to it, and Joanna didn’t have an answer at any rate, so she rose to her feet and crossed to the dressing table. Despite the night before, the pair fell into their usual routine as Edward joined her; moving around each other, they went through their morning ablutions, and when Joanna opened the wardrobe, she found herself staring at the dresses inside.

This was her clothing, yet she’d never realized just how many of the dresses were blue. Picking up a gown here and there hadn’t established any clear pattern in the moment, but standing before the monochromatic selection, Joanna scowled at herself. Yes, she liked the color, but there was no point in denying that it wasn’t her preferences that had pushed the recent purchases.

Picking through them, she lifted out the new green day dress. The hue may not be Edward’s favorite, but Joanna thought it suited her well, and the thick stripes were very flattering to her figure. His attention was on his neckcloth and hair when she slid the gown into place. Her hair remained in its tousled plait, but Joanna couldn’t help but lift her chin as his eyes caught hers in the reflection of the mirror.

“How do you like my dress?” she asked.

Giving it a quick look, he nodded and straightened his waistcoat. “It is lovely. The color suits you.”

And like that, the temper she was trying to build died like the wind on the ocean, leaving her adrift. The childishness and foolishness of her defiance stung her pride, and she sighed and shook her head.

“Pay me no mind, Edward. I am being silly,” she said.

Straightening, he turned to look at her directly. “Have I said something wrong?”

There was a heavy intonation of “again” in his statement, and Joanna’s shoulders fell. “Not at all. I am simply being petty, and you are being sweet instead.”

“Petty about a dress?”

Trying to explain the situation would be far worse than simply moving past it, so Joanna waved it away. Bending, she reached into the bottom of the wardrobe for her shoes, and her vision swam; she straightened, but darkness swept over her. Hands shaking, she drew in a sharp breath as Edward seized hold of her, guiding her to the bed.

“Careful there,” he whispered. “What is the matter? Do you need something to drink? Or a spot of breakfast? You haven’t been eating well of late.”

Just the thought had Joanna shaking her head with a wince. “Not yet. Give me a moment. It’s just so wretchedly hot, and I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

Edward turned to the wash basin, dipping the cloth into the water and wringing it out before dabbing her forehead. It was hardly cold, but it felt wonderful nonetheless.

“I was worried the Yorkshire winters would be brutal, but it seems the summers are just as liable to destroy me,” she sighed.

“It is extraordinarily hot and dry this year.”

“Yes, but I was raised in London, where the temperatures are always warmer, and I’ve never felt so sapped of strength and uncomfortable,” she murmured, her eyes closing as she reveled in his ministrations.

Standing before her with the damp cloth in his hand, Edward’s brow furrowed, and as Joanna’s equilibrium returned, she found her shoulders lowering as her temper ebbed. After so many weeks of amicable coexistence, she could hardly believe how quickly things had turned on their head, and the night’s rest (however fretful) had given her enough distance to pull free of the fury that had gripped them both.

“I don’t understand how things got so muddled yesterday,” she said with a shake of her head. But as she considered that, she huffed to herself. “Granted, I don’t know if I’ve ever rowed with anyone before, so perhaps that was precisely how it always goes.”

Setting aside the washcloth, Edward sat beside her on the bed with a sigh. “You’ve never had an argument?”

Brows pulled tight together, Joanna sorted through her past. “I’ve lost my temper plenty of times, but battling one’s nursemaids and governesses isn’t the same, and heaven knows I wouldn’t dare to disagree with my friends and acquaintances in the past, let alone argue with them.”

“Then I have the great honor of being the first victim of your wrath?” he asked, slanting her a hint of a smile, and Joanna couldn’t help chuckling.

“I will say again, it is your fault for pressing the issue. Had you left things as they were, I would never have said a word,” she replied.

The pair sat together in silence, side by side. Drawing in a heavy breath, Edward said, “I am sorry for what I said. I spent most of the night stewing, only to realize I am more angry with myself than anything.”