10
“Icannot believe this house,” Beatrice whispered in awe as Jo showed her into the sitting room on the first floor that seemed to be the one Robert used the most and the one Jo preferred as well. It was the most lived-in of the rooms she had seen so far.
Beatrice had arrived along with Mr. Oakley, who was now in a meeting with Robert, Ambrose and their respective solicitors. Jo had opted not to attend the meeting. Her urge not to see her cousin again was greater than the desire to know what he might say about her.
“I mean I obviously knew that Lord Riddlesmarsh was wealthy, but this is beyond anything I had ever imagined,” Beatrice continued as she looked around the sitting room.
Lord Bellingham, Beatrice’s father, had not been particularly wealthy.
The family had gone through several generations of people who were poor at money management, and Beatrice’s father was no exception.
This was also why Beatrice had not had a season in London but had only debuted in Hampshire society.
Still her father had counted on her making a ‘better’ match than a solicitor.
The couple had settled in London since it was where Mr. Oakley worked, but also to escape Beatrice’s father’s presence.
But Jo and Beatrice kept in touch throughout.
“I know,” Jo muttered and looked around the room as well. “I feel the same.”
She asked Beatrice to sit on the sofa, then sat in the chair next to her. Jo poured tea for them both and gestured for her friend to help herself with the food.
“Are you nervous?” Beatrice asked as she filled her plate with several biscuits and small cucumber sandwiches.
Beatrice had always had a sweet tooth, but this was a bit excessive even for her. Jo had an inkling that her friend might be pregnant again, but since Beatrice had not told her, she would refrain from asking.
“Oakley says that you have no right to be. He has made certain that the paperwork is all in order. Mr. Hawkins has no claim over you or your money,” Beatrice continued.
Her attention was focused on her food, and she was speaking matter-of-factly.
Jo appreciated that her friend was not witness to the brief burst of distress the words ‘claim over you’ gave her.
Ambrose had never stated outright what he had intended to do if Jo had become financially dependent on him, but given the many times he had mentioned how unnatural she was, Jo feared that he might be thinking of placing her in a home for women suffering from hysteria – or worse.
“I am glad,” Jo said and gulped.
Beatrice’s focus changed from her food. She delicately placed her plate on the table in front of her and took Jo’s hand.
“Oh, Jo, please. He is out of your life now. You married Lord Riddlesmarsh to be rid of him.”
Beatrice gently stroked a curl away from Jo’s face, only to have it fall back in place immediately. Jo’s new lady’s maid had put a very strong potion in it to make the curls stick.
“I know,” Jo muttered and leaned into Beatrice’s hand. Even though Beatrice was only a year older than Jo, she had always acted like an older sister, almost maternal at times.
“I know this is not what you wished for, and it is not what I hoped for you either if you ever married, but I think it is the best solution, given the circumstances. He seems kind, Lord Riddlesmarsh,” Beatrice continued cautiously.
“He is,” Jo confirmed and turned away from Beatrice’s caress to pick up her sandwich. Her friend took it as a sign that she could concentrate on her food as well.
“How has it been? Is he sticking to your agreement?” Beatrice asked in between bites.
“He is.”
Jo’s mind briefly strayed to last night. The way she had foolishly tried to flirt with him, given liquid courage by the madeira, only to be met with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
She had been wondering for hours last night whether he had agreed to her second list because it would give him time before he had to bed her as well. Maybe he was starting to share Ambrose’s sentiment that she was unwomanly?
The notion made her shiver and heat rise in her cheeks in embarrassment.
“Oooh,” Beatrice cooed, misunderstanding Jo’s blush. “But you haven’t I gather?” her friend teased her.
“No, we… no, I still want to wait…” Jo sighed heavily. “It’s…” She picked a sandwich as she spoke. “I find him very attractive,” she said, tight-lipped.
Beatrice grinned delightfully.
“Good, because he is. He certainly is.”
Jo did not know how she felt about her friend stating it as if it was obvious to everyone. Part of her wished to discuss Robert’s attractiveness at length and part of her wanted for Beatrice never to mention it again. As if it was for Jo only to see it.
“I am afraid that he does not find me attractive,” Jo whispered quietly.
“Jo,” Beatrice said patiently and waited for her friend to look at her before she continued. “I saw the two of you kiss in the Thistleworths’ garden. I am certain he finds you attractive.”
Jo blushed at the thought. She was still not certain why he had demanded that they kiss before the wedding. What kind of test it had been.
“Do you think that he finds fault with my clothing? He has not complimented me once,” Jo confessed and looked down at the pale-yellow gown she was wearing.
Robert had seen her in four of her dresses at this point and had not commented on any of them. Perhaps she was overthinking it, and it was simply not something he did. Mr. Oakley would constantly be praising Beatrice: her hair, her dress, her eyes, but that might differ from man to man.
Beatrice hummed as she thought, which told Jo that she was thinking of a way to say something diplomatically.
“In my experience, men rarely notice your dress. Even if they compliment it, you cannot count on their opinion. I could be wearing a bright orange dress with a peacock on my head and Oakley would still tell me I looked beautiful,” Beatrice mused and paused to take a bite from her last sandwich.
Jo waited to hear more of her friend’s wisdom on married life and men in general.
“Your wardrobe could perhaps do with an update, though. You are a married woman now, Jo. And of much higher ranking than previously.”
Jo nodded pensively. Her dresses had been bought with Hampshire society in mind, not London.
And certainly not the life of a duchess.
Many of her dresses were practical since she preferred to walk, and a lot of them were a couple of years old, because she had not bothered replacing them when there was no need.
She would rather focus her attention on her uncle when he had been alive, and then for the better part of six months she had been wearing black, then grey and purple in the half-morning, and had only changed into colors after arriving in London.
“Will you help me?” Jo asked, sounding more desperate than she meant to.
“Of course,” Beatrice answered, and Jo sighed with relief.
She could not fail at this. She wanted to be a good wife to Robert and part of that was appearances.
They were due to go out tonight for the first time as a couple.
To show the ton a united front against her cousin and quell all gossip about the match.
It was only a dinner at Xavier’s house, hosted by Helena, with a select group of guests, who would all be amicable yet several of them would quickly spread the word of how happy Robert and Jo’s marriage seemed.
Luckily Beatrice and Mr. Oakley were also going to be there tonight.
“Tomorrow?” Jo asked and they agreed on when and where to meet.
They talked of Beatrice’s children, Jo’s attempt to acquaint herself with Robert’s household, and Beatrice’s challenge to find a new cook, until Robert and Mr. Oakley joined them.
Mr. Oakley went straight to his wife’s side, sat down on the sofa next to her and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, before accepting the cup of tea Jo offered him. There were two empty chairs, and Robert chose the one furthest from Jo.
She did not know what to think of it and busied herself pouring tea for the gentlemen.
She already knew how Mr. Oakley liked his and offered it to him first but then hesitated before making Robert’s tea.
She sent him a questioning look, hoping she did not have to ask him outright in front of her friends how he preferred his tea.
It seemed something that a wife should know, even though she knew her friends would understand why she did not.
“A squeeze of lemon and only the tip of a spoon of sugar,” Robert told her with the hint of a smile. Did he find her amusing?
Jo hurriedly looked at the cup as she stirred the sugar into the tea before placing the cup and saucer in front of him. He smiled appreciatively and Jo felt her eyes catch on him. She could not look away even though she knew she should. Robert returned her gaze steadily.
The warmth and kindness in his gaze that she had seen the first night was back. He did like her, Jo assured herself. Because he found her quirky and amusing or because he wanted to take her to bed? Jo gulped dryly and tried to cover the sound by taking a sip of her tea.
“Well, everything is settled with Mr. Hawkins now,” Mr. Oakley told her, either oblivious or ignoring the tension between Jo and Robert.
Jo was happy that he seemed ignorant of it, although she was less certain that Beatrice was.
She did not dare turn her head and look at her friend, fearing what she might see on Beatrice’s face.
Whatever feeling Jo could imagine felt horrible at the moment.
“I hope so,” Jo muttered and looked between Mr. Oakley and Robert.
“I assure you that he has no claim over your money, Jo,” Robert told her in a low voice that felt very intimate.
Or was she just hallucinating things now? She needed to be alone and organize her thoughts in a neat list. Dissect every look and moment and come up with an answer.
“I know. I have just learned over the years to always expect the worst from him,” she explained and paused. “Did he… did he mention anything about me?” she asked tentatively and looked between Robert and Mr. Oakley.
Robert moved uncomfortably in his seat, which told Jo all she needed to know.
“He did try to besmirch you, but His Grace shut him down immediately. I am glad you did, Your Grace. I have a hard time stomaching that man even on a good day,” Mr. Oakley said.
Jo looked at Robert, thanking him silently, and he offered her a small smile, before he hurriedly steered the conversation in another direction.