Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Johanna
A knock on her door made Johanna jerk awake, and disorientation swirled around her.
She had been sleeping so soundly, far more soundly than she could remember sleeping.
For a moment, she thought she was still in the boarding house, but the bed was too big and comfortable, and the room far too large and well furnished.
Last night, she had not truly looked at it.
The door opened, and a maid poked her head in, smiling and bobbing a curtsy as she came through the door once she saw that Johanna was sitting up in bed.
Dark hair and dark-eyed, she was slightly plump with apple-blossom cheeks and a wide smile that Johanna immediately envied.
Draped over her arm was a length of lavender fabric.
“Good morning, my lady. My name is Nettie. Lady Stark sent me to take care of you.” She bustled over to the drapes as she spoke, opening them and letting in the sunlight.
It poured over the room, bathing it in soft light, revealing a feminine oasis of delicately carved furniture, an ornate carpet in lilac, cream, and grey lying across the floor.
The bed she was in boasted a periwinkle coverlet and canopy, though the curtains were open as it was too warm to need them closed overnight.
Johanna did not know what to say as Nettie turned and looked at her expectantly. She’d never had her own maid, as she had not been old enough for one before they’d had to start letting the staff go.
“Good morning,” she echoed after a moment since it was polite to do so. But she did not know what she could ask Nettie to take care of for her. She cast her gaze about. “Um, do you know where my dress is?”
The night rail she was wearing was one that Lady Stark had produced last night.
Johanna had reassured the lady that she had no need of a dresser, and the lady had nodded her head and allowed Johanna to ready herself for bed.
But at some point, her dress had disappeared, as it was no longer lying at the foot of the bed where she’d left it.
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Syme, the housekeeper, sent someone in this morning to get it.” Nettie smiled sympathetically. “Rosa said you did not stir. You must have been exhausted.”
“Yes.” Exhausted and slightly disturbed now that she knew someone had been in the room with her, and she’d slept through it.
That was certainly a measure of how tired she’d been, though.
Normally, she awoke at any small sound in the middle of the night, always alert for bad news or for Charlotte crawling into bed with her.
She must have been more wrung out than she’d realized.
“Well, you’re up now, and Lady Stark sent this day gown for you to wear today. She says that once you have broken your fast, you’ll be going out to Bruton Street to visit her modiste.” Nettie smiled through this whole recitation.
“Oh… I do not…” Johanna’s voice trailed off. She did not have any money, but the Duke of St. Albans certainly did, and he would have a certain standard of dress for his wife, she was sure.
What was he getting out of this arrangement?
A wife, but he could have any woman of the ton, surely. Why her? Rather than bringing him a dowry, he had to spend money outfitting her. And he’d sent for her family.
What was he going to expect in return?
Last night, the choice had seemed simple. Now, she could not help but wonder if she was out of the pan and into the fire.
Lady Astrid had him as a guest. And the Duke of Montagu.
His grandmother had also seemed no-nonsense and entirely aware of the proprieties. She had not even let him escort Johanna to this room. Johanna blew out a long breath.
Whatever it was he wanted from her, if it saved her family, she would do it.
Nettie was still standing there, smiling and waiting patiently, holding up the lavender gown. Giving herself a small shake, Johanna got up and allowed Nettie to dress her, which was an entirely odd experience.
The maid not only had the gown, she also had undergarments for Johanna.
Everything was too big for her, but it was better than nothing, and it was all far cleaner and newer than what she had been wearing.
The lavender color made her eyes seem a bit paler than usual, as though they were shifting shades to match, but her skin and hair looked a bit brighter.
Nettie frowned over the lack of curls—it had taken Rose hours to craft an acceptable coiffure at Blackstone Manor—but skillfully braided the long, silky strands into an acceptable style. Johanna stared at herself in the mirror. She was as thin as ever, gaunt even, but somehow, she looked different.
“There we go,” Nettie said triumphantly. “Would you like a touch of color for your cheeks, my lady? Nothing gaudy, of course, but I think it might brighten you a bit.”
Because she had trusted Nettie thus far, she allowed the maid to put a bit of rouge on her cheeks, and she had to admit, she rather liked the effect.
She looked healthier with a bit of color, more like she had as a child, though she’d never felt farther away from her childhood than she did at this moment.
“Let me show you to the dining room, my lady.”
Seeming eager to show off her work, Nettie escorted Johanna through the halls.
She chattered the whole time about the various portraits and artwork they passed, pointing in different directions to where Johanna would find rooms that might interest her.
The house was massive, and Johanna just hoped she would be able to find her way to and from the dining room on her own, much less seeking out the study, the solarium, or the music room.
Though her own home was huge, so many of the rooms had been closed off over the years that she did not remember where most of them were.
Some of them, her younger siblings had never seen before.
Navigating through a large house was not something she had much experience with anymore.
Blackstone Manor had been larger, but she’d had Rose with her, and it had made everything far less intimidating.
Now she was alone.
Thankfully, it did seem as though the way to the dining room was fairly straightforward. She thought she would be able to find her way back on her own.
As she came through the door with Nettie, the Duke of St. Albans and his grandmother abruptly cut off their conversation.
He jumped to his feet when Johanna entered the room, staring at her.
He was just as handsome in the daylight as he had been the night before, though he looked more at home in this elegant dining room than the shabby backstage of Mr. O’Connell’s.
“Lady Johanna, Your Grace, my lady.” Nettie sounded triumphant, very pleased with herself.
Johanna was amused that she had not been far off the mark in thinking Nettie wanted to show off her work.
She had to admit she would not look nearly so nice if Nettie had not been there to help her. Especially her hair.
“Your Grace, my lady,” Johanna echoed, and curtsied, ducking her head to avoid the duke’s intense scrutiny.
Was he regretting his decision? Was he pleased? She could not tell.
“Very nice, Nettie, thank you.” Lady Stark smiled, and Nettie exited the room, appearing pleased. “Come, Johanna, sit and have something to eat. What would you like? Eggs? Sausage? Kippers?”
A sudden lump found its way into Johanna’s throat as she sank down into her chair. Her mouth watered at the smells, but her stomach tightened at the thought of eating a single bite.
The same guilt had battered her at Blackstone Manor, but that had been before she knew her mother was starving herself. Now… she’d struggled to eat the food the boarding house had provided. The duke’s food was too much. The quality so much higher. The options so much larger.
How was she supposed to eat eggs, sausage, and kippers when she knew her family had no such sustenance?
A tear rolled down her face, no matter that she tried to swallow back her sob, then another and another. Head bowed and hands clasped tight in her lap, she did her best to hide her reaction, but she could not look at either the duke or his grandmother because she could not control herself at all.
Matthew
What was she doing? Why was she crying?
Panic gripped Matthew as he stared at his bride.
She looked lovely in her gown, though it did not fit her very well, and she had seemed happy enough until she’d been offered food.
Shouldn’t she want to eat? She’d said her family was starving.
And she’d looked very thin herself, even before putting on a gown that was too big for her, which made her appear even less well fed.
He looked to his grandmother, who was sitting stiffly upright with an expression on her face that he’d never seen before. On someone else, he might have called it sympathy.
Then his grandmother looked back at him, and her expression changed, shooting him a look.
Help her, she mouthed.
Right.
How?
What did people do to help a crying woman? He’d never been in this situation before.
Matthew quickly took out his coin, but he did not know what to ask it.
His grandmother’s face was slowly getting redder, and she looked like her head was about to explode.
Hug her.
Oh. That made sense. But he did flip the coin just in case, then hurried to get up and put his arm around Lady Johanna when it confirmed that was the right thing to do.
The maneuver had the added benefit of putting the table between him and his grandmother.
Just in case she decided to do something with her hands other than gripping the arms of her chair.
It was awkward crouching down to get in the right position, and Johanna felt incredibly frail under his arm. Even more so than she had last night. The sensation stirring in his breast felt… protective.
“Is there something else you would like?” he asked softly. “We can get you whatever you want.”
Lady Johanna turned her head into his shoulder, which was nice, but she also started crying even harder, which was not. His grandmother dropped her head into her hands and took a deep breath. Matthew knew from experience that meant she thought he was mucking things up.
But it was not as though he had any experience in this sort of thing. He was doing his best.
Unfortunately, no further questions for his coin presented themselves to him.
“I am sorry,” Lady Johanna said, straightening again, groping for the napkin. That was something he could do—Matthew handed the napkin to her. “Thank you. I am so sorry.”
“Not to worry,” Matthew said, getting back to his feet from the awkward crouch he’d been in, patting her shoulder.
“I ah… is there anything I can do?” He would much rather she not start crying again.
Maybe he should send for one of his friends, one with a wife.
A woman other than his grandmother, since she expected Matthew to take care of this, and he was clearly not very good at it.
“You have already done everything… I just… there is so much food, and I started thinking about my family.” She was turning weepy again.
How to stop it?
“Christian will see to it that they are fed,” he quickly reassured her. “I promise.”
That was an easy promise to make because he knew his friend. Christian would provide for their travel and their food the whole way to London, and Matthew would happily pay him back if Christian allowed. Which he might not. He would consider it part of his duty.
It should have made her happy, but she started crying again, this time holding the napkin to her face as her shoulders shook.
He looked at his grandmother with a helpless plea in his eyes, and she sighed, shaking her head.
Finally, she got to her feet and came around.
Matthew quickly stepped back to allow her to take his place at Lady Johanna’s side.
“Do not fret, my dear,” his grandmother said soothingly, rubbing Lady Johanna’s back.
Oh. Maybe that was what she’d wanted him to do.
He could have rubbed her back if he’d realized.
“The boys will take care of everything. Your family is going to have plenty to eat from now on, and you need to eat to keep up your strength until they join us here.”
Apparently, that was the right thing to say. Lady Johanna nodded, hiccupping, before getting herself under control again. His grandmother patted her back before returning to her place on the other side of the table, and Matthew sidled back to his seat.
Lady Johanna had more color to her face now—pink cheeks and eyes, the tip of her nose a delicate red—but she was as beautiful as ever. Matthew smiled at her, trying to appear reassuring, but she had ducked her head and was not paying attention to him.
Ah, well. They’d have the opportunity to get to know each other better once they were married.
Hopefully, there would be no more crying at breakfast once her family arrived, and she had no reason to be sad anymore.
“Once you are done breaking your fast, we shall go shopping,” his grandmother announced.
Matthew understood he was not included in that ‘we,’ thankfully. He had his own plans for the day, such as procuring a special license and tracking down Drake to pepper him with questions.
“You shall need to be properly outfitted as befits a duchess. Matthew tells me that you are to marry as soon as your family arrives.”
Lady Johanna glanced at him, and he nodded.
“First thing on my agenda is the special license.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “Feel free to get whatever you need. Grandmama knows there is no budget for this.”
Violet eyes widened, and she appeared at a loss for words. It was very generous of him, but he could afford it, and there was no reason his duchess should appear anything but top of the nines. Besides, he wanted to ensure no one would mistake her for the young woman in the brothel last night.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered after a moment.
He smiled encouragingly at her.
“Now, let us talk about the wedding,” Grandmama said.
Matthew nodded and pulled out his coin, much to his grandmama’s obvious displeasure.