Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Johanna
This was not how she would have chosen to meet the Duke of St. Albans’ grandmother. She wanted to sink into the floor as the elegant older woman stared at them in pure shock. Johanna was beginning to realize the duke enjoyed shocking people. He was certainly very good at it.
“Lady Johanna, this is my grandmother, Lady Moira Stark.”
Not a duchess, then; she must be his grandmother on his mother’s side. Still, nobility. Despite the fact she’d never had an official come-out, Johanna was trained, to the best of her mother’s ability. She sank into a curtsy she hoped was the proper degree and did her best not to wobble.
Thankfully, she had been practicing before the house party, and she managed to keep her balance.
“Matthew Ferdinand Cassius St. Albans!” Lady Stark might be in a dressing gown with a bonnet over her hair, but she did not need proper clothing to be intimidating.
Johanna bounced up from her curtsy, quivering in place, and wondered if she should run—but she had nowhere to run to.
“This is not how you introduce your fiancée to your grandmother!”
Relief bubbled up inside Johanna so fast and so strong, she nearly collapsed in a heap before locking her knees into place. His grandmother was upset about the introduction, not about Johanna or her appearance. She could have cried, she was so relieved.
St. Albans had quit her side, leaving Johanna in the middle of the foyer, bounding up the stairs to drop a kiss on his grandmother’s cheek. She did not know if she felt abandoned or relieved that he had taken his grandmother’s focus so completely.
“You did say immediately,” he said cheerfully.
The older woman swatted him on the shoulder with her hand.
“You know this is not what I meant, you rapscallion!” Pursing her lips, Lady Stark glared at him.
He just chuckled, clearly unintimidated by his grandmother’s ire.
Turning back to look down the stairs at Johanna, he held out his hand.
“Come, my lady, I’ll show you to your room.”
“You will not!” Lady Stark swatted him again and caused Johanna to stay in her place, swaying slightly since she had almost stepped forward. “Affianced or no, there will be no pre-wedding dallying under my roof.”
“Technically, it is my roof.”
“Get yourself to your own bed, and I will see to Lady Johanna,” she concluded, ignoring his statement about the ownership of the house as thoroughly as he’d ignored the proprieties.
Turning to look down the stairs, she smiled encouragingly at Johanna.
“Come, my dear. There’s a room just down the hall from me that you can use this evening, and tomorrow we’ll have one prepared for you to use until your wedding. ”
“We’ll be getting married by special license as soon as her family arrives,” St. Albans said, striding away at a fast clip, though he somehow managed to look as though he was not running away from his grandmother.
Her eyes, which were bright blue, widened with fury as her nostrils flared. Johanna had been on her way up the stairs, following the lady’s directions, but now she hung back.
Lady Stark closed her eyes, and her chest heaved beneath her dressing gown as she took a deep breath.
“I cannot murder the boy; his heir is a complete addlepate,” she muttered to herself before opening her eyes again.
Johanna watched her mutely, still perched halfway up the stairs, still wondering if she should flee while she had the chance. But where would she flee to? St. Albans had promised to take care of her family. By the looks of the house and his grandmother’s attire, he could well afford it.
And his grandmother seemed more outraged about the lack of a proper wedding than she was about Johanna’s unexpected and disheveled appearance. Things could be far worse, even if her soon-to-be husband had just left her alone with his rather formidable grandmother.
Lady Stark turned her gaze to Johanna, and it swept over her with a calculating eye.
“Lady Johanna?” she asked, as if to be sure. Johanna could not blame her, considering her current attire, her lack of chaperone, and the late hour at which St. Albans had brought her to the house.
She steeled herself and nodded. “My brother is the Earl of Falmouth.”
Swift calculations ran through the woman’s eyes. She might be older, but she was sharp, and she recognized the name. Johanna could only imagine what other information she might remember about the family, but she was far too exhausted to care at this point.
If the woman kicked her out of the house, she would stay on the stoop until her family arrived, then she would figure out what to do. Though St. Albans had seemed very intent on marrying her.
“Come on then,” Lady Stark said, turning. “Let’s get you settled. Tomorrow, I want the full story.”
Johanna was not sure she could give it. Hopefully, St. Albans would be awake tomorrow to make whatever explanation he desired, and Johanna could follow his lead.
That or she would wake up in the boarding house Mr. Blash had put her in and discover this had all been a very vivid dream. At this point, she was not sure which would be odder.
Matthew
The sharp rapping on Matthew’s bedroom door just as he finished readying himself for bed made him sigh. He’d hoped that leaving Lady Johanna to his grandmama’s auspices would distract her, but apparently not. His grandmama wanted an explanation.
“That will be all, Reedy, thank you,” he said to his valet. “Let my grandmother in on your way out.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Reedy said with a bow.
Reed-thin, with light-brown hair, he lived up to his name.
He was a very good valet for Matthew, adaptable and able to keep up with whatever wild starts Matthew had.
They’d been together ever since Matthew had fired his previous valet, who had been his father’s spy.
Reedy was loyal to Matthew and no one else.
Grandmama swept into Matthew’s bedroom like a gale wind and came to a halt in the middle, hands on her hips. Her glare could have wilted an entire field of crop.
“What did you do?” she demanded to know. “Where did you find that poor girl?”
“I saved her from a fate worse than death,” Matthew replied, grinning, pleased to be able to defend himself so nimbly. Grandmama’s eyes narrowed, and he quickly gave her an accounting of what had happened. He did leave out that he’d been following Drake, saying only that he’d been tailing a friend.
“She had better say the same thing tomorrow,” Grandmama said, though much of her displeasure had dropped away.
Something was still bothering her, though, he could tell.
At least she no longer looked as though she wanted to whack him.
It also did not seem as though she had definitively decided against it either.
While she didn’t have nearly the strength of his father, her stinging slaps against his arm had always bothered him far more than his father’s harsh punishments. Grandmama was rarely displeased with him, while his father always was.
“She will,” Matthew reassured her. “I think she must have been quite desperate. We’ll see the state of her family when they arrive, but I cannot imagine anything but pure desperation driving her to such acts. She was very quiet and very proper at Blackstone Manor.”
“Hmm. Well. I suppose we will see.” His grandmother sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I do want to see you married, you know.”
“I know.”
“An impoverished earl’s sister… she may have some difficulty adjusting to running a ducal household.”
“I am sure I can count on you to assist her.” After all, his grandmother had been the lady of the house since his father died.
She was speaking from experience, too—she had been thrown into the fire when he’d inherited, just as he had.
Matthew had not expected to become the duke so soon, and his grandmother had never expected to have to run a ducal household.
She’d been perfectly happy as the wife of an earl.
If anyone knew how difficult it was to adjust, it was her.
“Of course, I will render her all due assistance.” Grandmama was still frowning.
“What?”
“You know that you cannot flip a coin for love, correct?”
“I didn’t. I flipped my coin to choose my bride.
” Matthew laughed, patting his pocket where the coin in question lay.
His grandparents had been a love match. His parents’ marriage had not—it had been the one time his grandmother and his grandfather had fought, according to her.
She’d wanted their daughter, his mother, to have a love match…
but his mother had sided with his grandfather. She’d wanted to be a duchess.
She’d gotten her wish.
Matthew always wondered if she’d regretted it, or if perhaps his father had been different when she was alive.
His grandmother had said his mother had been content with her title, but she would have been happier with a love match. She’d tried to push the idea of a love match onto Matthew, too.
Personally, he did not see what difference it made, but he knew she was likely disappointed he was not interested in trying things her way.
“You cannot go through life making all your choices by coin!”
“I do not see why not.” He shrugged. This was a constant argument between them. He could have written out their lines for them at this point. “It has not led me astray thus far.”
“And what if it has this time?”
“Then I will deal with it. But I do not believe it has.”
“Did you flip it for her at Blackstone Manor?”
Matthew hesitated. He had wondered at this as well.
“I did, but not to see if she should be my bride. I was choosing dance partners at that point.” He shrugged. “Obviously, something changed. Maybe I was meant to wait ‘til now.”
“Does it not bother you to give up so much control of your life?” she asked, aghast. That was a new tack.
He paused to think about it for a moment before shaking his head.
“Since when have I truly had control, Grandmama? I was born to be a duke, and here I am.” He spread his arms wide. “I did not choose any of this. Why should the rest of my life be any different?”
Grandmama snorted.
“Being born a duke only narrows your choices; it does not eradicate them. You are born into such a position and privilege that you have more choices than most. If you want to have a dearth of choices, you should try being a woman.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of his room.
The conversation left him slightly unsettled, which was a new sensation for him.
Normally, he felt perfectly content with how he lived his life, even after arguments with his grandmother.
He knew she did not approve of his coin-flipping, but it seemed to him it was no worse than the ways most people made their decisions.
Perhaps he had become overly reliant on it…
but half of his punishments from his father had been for making the wrong decision.
Choices that he’d made on his own. When he’d started relying on luck, he’d been beaten less than when he’d been trying to do the right thing.
The coin made better choices than he made when left to his own devices, so he relied on luck.
And that luck had gotten him out of many a belting.
While his father wasn’t around to impose his ideas of what the right choice was anymore, Matthew still preferred to let his luck decide his path.
It had not let him down so far.
He’d saved his bride from a terrible fate and now would save her family as well.
She would work hard to become a good duchess in gratitude.
Considering how beautiful she was, conceiving an heir would be a pleasure, not a chore.
Now that he had a bride—and presumably that would lead to an heir—taken care of, he could focus on helping his friends uncover who murdered their fathers.
And solve the mystery of what Drake was up to.
Feeling rather pleased with himself for a good day’s work, Matthew took himself to bed. Tomorrow, he’d ensure Lady Johanna was well taken care of with his grandmother, then he would pay Drake a visit.