8
“But it is true, Ambrose.” Jo fought to keep her tone level and her composure straight as she looked at her cousin.
She had been summoned by the Barforth butler Evans who had told her she had a visitor.
Slightly uncertain, she had followed him with Helena at her heels.
Ambrose had been waiting in a room just off the entrance hall but had jumped up when he had seen Jo through the open door.
His obvious anger and the way he came toward her had made her retreat to the entrance hall, even though she knew she had nothing to fear from him. At least not physically.
He had demanded to know whether it was true that she had married the Duke of Riddlesmarsh. Of course, as soon as Jo confirmed it, he had claimed she was lying.
Ambrose scoffed and turned from her in a dismissive way.
“I insist on seeing proof, Josephine. You cannot have gotten married overnight, that is impossible.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth.
It felt as if ice slithered through her veins as she realized it was not coincidental that Ambrose had only given her two weeks to hand over her assets. He knew it was not enough time for the banns to be read thrice and had figured that Jo did not have time to marry.
Jo stood even straighter at his words.
“I had a special license, everything is perfectly legal, I assure you,” she said sternly and dared not look at Helena. What would her new mother-in-law be thinking of her closest relative and their relationship?
“I don’t believe a word of it, Josephine!” Ambrose shouted and made both Jo and Helena jump.
“What is the matter?” Robert asked behind her. Before Jo had time to answer, she felt his presence behind her and his hand came to land on her waist. Jo leaned into the warmth and comfort of it.
Ambrose looked stricken for a second, before he composed himself.
“Your Grace,” he said in a clipped tone and bowed his head.
“Mr. Hawkins,” Robert answered equally tersely.
“I was just telling my cousin…”
“My wife,” Robert interrupted him coldly.
“Your wife, Your Grace, that I will have to see proof that this marriage is in fact legal. I do not have to explain that two weeks are not enough time for the banns to be read three Sundays in a row in both your home parish and in hers and since I know for a fact that the two of you met last night…”
“I had a special license, Ambrose,” Jo repeated. She was not certain, but it felt like Robert pressed his palm firmer against her back as if offering her more strength.
“A special license? But how? Those are expensive. No one would have given it to a woman.” Ambrose narrowed his eyes as he looked at her.
“Mr. Oakley saw to it,” Jo told him.
“Mr. Oakley?! I cannot believe that you are still acquainted with that man after what he did to Lord Colemore.”
“He is a gentleman who fell in love with Lord Colemore’s daughter, as did Beatrice with him. The two of them are very happy now. He has done nothing wrong and neither has she.”
Ambrose scoffed.
“He stole the man’s daughter from right under his nose,” he said, his voice rising for every word he spoke.
“That is hardly the topic of discussion now, sir,” Robert interrupted. “I will send an invitation to a meeting tomorrow where you will be able to look at the paperwork with your solicitor. Please give your address to my brother’s butler and he will show you out.”
Ambrose’s eyes flared.
“Do you have any idea what she is like, Your Grace?” he asked as he pointed an accusing finger at Jo.
“She is deceitful and conniving. She had my father wrapped around her finger and he did everything that she told him to. She wasted his money, diminishing my inheritance, while she sat back comfortably with her 20,000 pounds.”
“Now, sir,” Robert interrupted in a strained voice. Jo could tell he was doing his best to keep his temper in check.
“She has been hoarding her own money and investing it as she saw fit. Completely unwomanly. I will bring proof tomorrow, and I dare say that you will want to be rid of her as soon as you are able. If you have not consummated the marriage, I strongly advise you against it. Any children by her would be just as morally corrupted as she is.”
Jo felt Robert move toward Ambrose but reached for his arm to hold him back.
If he intended to strike him, it would serve no purpose, even if some part of her was thrilled that Robert would defend her.
He let her stop him, his arm sliding around her and holding on tighter.
Jo relished the feeling despite the situation.
“Out, now!” someone growled and strode forward. Xavier stormed into view and pointed ominously at the door. “Leave my house, Mr. Hawkins, and don’t you ever dare show your face here again. You are not to address my sister in such a manner.”
Ambrose looked almost startled at Xavier’s outburst, then visibly gathered himself into the self-righteous air that was always about him.
“I am merely stating the truth, gentlemen. She is entirely unnatural. She will make a poor wife for you, Lord Riddlesmarsh. I guarantee it.” He nodded his head, walked to the door where Evans was already holding his hat out toward him, and then left the house.
Evans closed the door behind him with an ominous sound of the lock.
For a moment the entire room was quiet, staring at the door that Ambrose had just exited.
“I…” Jo began but had no words to explain it.
“I am sorry,” she said as she turned to face first Helena, then Xavier, only to realize that Maggie, Philomena and Lord Thornston were also in the room along with several members of staff.
She felt her face heat with embarrassment and tears pricked her eyes.
She swallowed forcibly several times. She did not want to cry.
Not in front of these people. And not over something Ambrose had said.
She was done with that. She had told herself long ago that he should not hold such power over her.
“It is not like he said,” she told Robert, who felt like the safest person in the room to focus her attention on.
His green eyes were filled with kindness.
It felt reassuring that she had not misjudged him.
“My uncle was very fond of me. We talked a lot about how he could use his money for the greater good and I helped him start several charities.”
She gulped, knowing that Robert might not like what she was about to reveal.
“One of them helps fallen women. Women who have had a child outside of wedlock or… or… or…who have been prostitutes,” she whispered the last word and leaned toward him, chancing a glance in Helena’s direction.
But her new mother-in-law had either not heard or did not react to it.
“Ambrose was livid that his father used his money in that manner. But those women… their entire lives are ruined and often because they have no choice. It felt so cruel and…”
“Jo,” Robert interrupted her gently. “No one is faulting you or your uncle for setting up a charity to help those women.”
Jo stared into his eyes but saw nothing but a kind confidence in them.
When she felt reassured by what she saw, she glanced at first Helena, then Maggie and Philomena, before briefly meeting the eyes of Xavier and Thornston.
When she felt assured that they did not have an issue with it, she turned to Robert again.
“Uncle Horace set up the charities as separate entities with their own funding, meaning that Ambrose cannot touch them now that his father is dead.”
She gulped again and looked at Robert with wide eyes, willing him to believe her.
“I put money into them myself after I came of age. It is not true what he said that I have been hoarding the money, although it is true that I have been investing it. My uncle taught me how to do it.” She swallowed again and waited for him to speak.
“You do not need to justify yourself, Jo. I don’t believe him,” Robert told her gently and reached for her hand.
Jo’s lip trembled with relief.
“I think we should leave,” Robert told his mother.
He offered them a quick goodbye. Jo barely looked at anyone before they were handed their belongings by Evans and then exited the house.
“I will hail a hackney cab. It will be at least ten minutes before the carriage is ready,” Robert told her as they walked down the steps. Her hand was once again resting on his arm, and she liked the sense of support it offered her. In more ways than one.
“Do you mind if we walk? Since it’s not far,” Jo asked hesitantly. Was she being too unladylike now? Did duchesses ever walk?
“I don’t mind at all. Are you certain that you feel well enough to walk?” Robert asked as he led her through the driveway and onto the pavement.
“Yes, I like to walk. I’m used to going on long walks in Hampshire, both at my uncle’s estate and later on the beach in Lymington,” Jo told him and already felt a little more at ease at the familiar movement.
“I am more of a rider myself. I usually go for a ride each morning, if the weather permits it. When I don’t, it is only out of consideration for the horse – not myself.
” Jo could hear the smile in Robert’s voice as he spoke, but she did not dare look at him again.
She appreciated that he tried to set her at ease though.
He had acted much kinder to her after what Ambrose had said than she would have believed.
“So that was where you went this morning? I thought I heard your steps in the hallway.” She had wondered what it meant that he was up so early, especially after going to bed late, but had tried to put it out of her mind.
“It was, yes. I usually ride in Rotten Row in the morning, when it is less crowded. I feared I would meet Xavier though, so I took a different route this morning. Do you ride?”
“Sufficiently, I suppose. But I am not a horse woman. My uncle injured his leg fifteen years ago and was unable to ride after. He would have to travel by carriage at hunting parties and outings, and I always accompanied him instead of going by horseback with the others,” Jo told him and remembered the many hours they had spent in the carriage, either talking animatedly or sharing a companionable quiet.
“You were very close with him?” Robert observed and led her smoothly around a corner.
“I was. He was like a second father to me,” Jo told him. “I came to live with him when I was thirteen.”
She gulped at the memory. She was already emotional and did not want to talk about her father’s death – nor her mother’s for that matter. Robert seemed to sense it since he steered the conversation in another direction.
“Do you want to be there tomorrow at the meeting with your cousin?” he asked as they reached his driveway.
Jo sighed heavily. She felt no desire to see Ambrose again but would also feel uneasy if she did not know what lies he spewed about her. She wanted a chance to explain herself to Robert later.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I should like Mr. Oakley to be present.”
“Of course,” Robert assured her as they walked up the stairs to his house.
Her house as well, Jo supposed. It was even more intimidating in the daylight when she was able to see it all.
Three stories high – two for them and one for the servants at the top.
It was larger than Uncle Horace’s country estate had been.
“I will have my solicitor present as well, and I assume Mr. Hawkins will bring his,” Robert continued. “Think on it. Otherwise, I will tell you afterwards what he said.”
“I would appreciate it,” Jo told him and turned her face so he could see her smile.
Their eyes met. Jo nodded. Robert nodded. And then they looked at each other for a long moment, as Jo raked her brain for a reason to stay in Robert’s company.
“Perhaps you could…” Jo began, but Robert cleared his throat and spoke over her:
“I have some estate matters I need to go over.” His voice was gruff and he hurried up the steps, leaving Jo at the bottom of them. She looked at Robinson who held the door open for her and looked just as confused as she felt.