13
“Oh, there you are,” her husband said as Jo walked into the entrance hall to his house. Their house, she reminded herself again.
Robert was putting on his hat and gloves. Evidently going out. She searched her mind for where he was going, but their many social obligations were already blurring for her, even though she knew she must have written it down at some point.
She noticed how his eyes roamed over her face and briefly stopped on her curls.
Jo knew she looked horrible: The carriage had felt stuffy and she had opened both windows to let in the breeze, even though it let in the stench from the city as well.
Her cheeks felt flushed from the wind and her curls were in disarray underneath her green bonnet.
She self-consciously patted them, hoping to flatten them at least a little.
At least she had not caught the stench from the sewers.
“I was… I was out,” she told him as she took off her bonnet and gloves and handed them to the footman who was observing them. “I brought George, like you said I should.”
She gestured in the direction of the driveway where she had just alighted the carriage and where she had last seen the footman.
“Of course,” Robert told her and paused then added: “You are free to leave whenever you want.”
Jo frowned. She had gathered from what he said that she could move about as she pleased as long as she brought George. Was there some context she was missing?
“Yes, right…” she muttered and looked between Robert and the staircase, uncertain what to do. He was evidently leaving and the entrance hall seemed an odd place for a conversation. Especially in front of both Robinson and a footman.
She saw Robert’s hand twitch toward his waistcoat pocket. He probably meant to take out his fob watch, then thought better of it.
“I have to leave in a minute, but would you like to sit for a moment?”
“Oh, certainly,” Jo mumbled hesitantly, even more uncertain of what he wanted. Could whatever parting words he had not be shared in front of the staff?
He led her to a large drawing room off the entrance hall that she had not previously been in.
It was just as spacious and bright as the rest of the rooms in the house.
The furniture and wallpaper were kept in white and cream colors with small bursts of green like the leaves embroidered on the pillows on the sofas and chairs in the three different groups of seating arrangements.
It worked well with the large paintings of different estates hanging on the walls.
Robert’s estates, Jo presumed and gulped dryly at the thought of having to manage multiple households.
“Where did you go?” Robert asked as they settled in chairs opposite each other.
Jo hesitated as she studied his expression. He did not look angry, which she took as a good sign.
“If you do not want to answer that is perfectly fine,” Robert told her. “I was merely asking out of curiosity.”
“No, I… it is fine. I went to the milliner today. With Beatrice. Mrs. Oakley, that is.” Jo blushed at the thought of the fifteen flimsy nightgowns Beatrice had made her buy.
“Nightgowns have a rather short life the first year of one’s marriage,” her friend had muttered and smiled when they were at tea at Gunter’s afterwards.
“Why?”
“He will rip them off, obviously,” Beatrice had whispered close to Jo’s ear.
Jo’s mind had flooded with the image of Robert above her. His hands placed at the neckline of her nightgown, his eyes meeting hers as he was silently asking for her permission to rip it open. Jo had shivered at the thought. Then immediately pushed it away.
Her marriage to Robert was not like Beatrice’s to Mr. Oakley.
She and Robert had agreed to marry, because they would both benefit from it – not because they were in love or desired each other greatly.
Or at least Robert did not desire her. Jo was starting to realize that she found him attractive and if he was not unkind in the bedroom, she might probably… perhaps most likely… even enjoy it.
Jo had felt her cheeks flush with heat at the thought.
“I think we should order at least fifteen by the light in your eyes,” Beatrice had announced with a smirk.
It seemed impossible now though that any nightgowns would ever be ripped.
She and Robert were sitting opposite each other like strangers.
Jo could not fathom how they would cross the divide from mere acquaintances to bed partners.
They were not even sticking to her list anymore.
They should have talked more about themselves to become better acquainted, but it seemed they were constantly busy.
“Which milliner?” Robert asked. “My mother and Maggie always visit Madame Durand, but you are free to choose of course. I will have an account set up for you wherever you wish,” Robert told her conversationally.
“There is no reason for that,” Jo hurriedly assured him. “I have my own money,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but I should like to pay.”
“But there is no reason to.”
She needed the dresses to feel more like a duchess; she could not let him pay for them.
“Jo, I insist on paying,” Robert told her firmly. Lines formed beside his mouth. She had never seen him this stern.
“No, you shouldn’t…”
It felt wrong that he had to pay the cost of her insecurity.
“Jo, you are my wife!” Robert interrupted her a little too loudly and the room fell deadly quiet as they stared at each other.
A million thoughts swarmed Jo’s head at the same time, but the most persistent was the fear that she might have misjudged Robert. She had married a man she did not know; anything could be hiding under the surface.
“Jo, I beg your pardon,” Robert assured her in a much gentler voice. He pulled an upholstered stool in front of her chair and moved to sit on it. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
He sighed deeply and looked down at his hands.
“It is forgiven,” Jo told him, because she felt she had to.
And she was not angry at him for snapping, simply stunned that it was in his nature. She felt out of her depth because he argued this strongly over a matter that seemed benign.
“Why would you think you had to pay for the dresses yourself?” Robert implored and looked at her.
His deep green eyes searching her face were making her uncomfortable.
Or perhaps it was his nearness. She could feel the warmth from his large body.
It felt strange and unsettling being so close to him.
Jo stared at the window behind him to avoid his gaze, hoping it would make her composed enough to formulate her thoughts clearly. Her jaw worked as she mulled over what to say.
“Would you rather discuss it at a later time?” Robert asked.
Something in his tone told her that he was used to dealing with people who needed time on their own to contemplate matters. Perhaps Xavier. Jo appreciated his offer but would rather solve their disagreement now.
“No, I…Now is fine,” Jo sighed heavily and looked at her lap.
They were both silent as they avoided each other’s eyes, despite being closer than they had the last couple of days. The only other time they had been this close was when Jo had been on Robert’s arm. And when they had kissed.
Jo pushed the thought from her mind as she felt her cheeks heat again. As if he was able to feel it as well, Robert sat back on the stool to create as much distance between them as possible without moving to the chair again.
“A husband pays for his wife, Jo. It even says so in the marriage settlement that you had Mr. Oakley create. The one I signed before our wedding.”
“Yes, it says, ‘everyday upkeep’,” Jo tried to keep her voice calm, even though the frustration with him not understanding the situation still crept in.
But he would not be able to grasp the situation, because she could not tell him the true reason she wanted to pay for her own clothing.
“I have ordered at least fifteen dresses, that is hardly ‘everyday’.”
Robert frowned and she caught the way his eyes strayed to her dress. He was probably thinking that the pale green dress was not fit for a duchess and that she had done right to buy new ones.
“Dresses seem very ‘everyday’ to me,” he countered though. “As long as they are within the budget I have provided for you, I cannot see why I should not be the one to pay for them.”
“I already paid Madame Laval,” Jo told him and hoped it would end the argument.
He might not have any idea what dresses cost if he thought fifteen were nothing. And that was not to mention the fifteen nightgowns, petticoats, stockings, corsets, gloves and bonnets.
Robert nodded once curtly as if tucking the information away.
“I will reimburse you.”
Jo scoffed and rubbed her forehead.
“Why is this important to you?” she demanded.
Robert scrutinized her, his face focused.
Jo’s entire body tensed as she fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny, fearing whatever came next.
She had gone from being beholden to a man she loathed to a man she did not know.
It was still too early to tell whether the trade of had been worth it, but part of the verdict hinged on his next words.
“I will pay for your dresses, Jo. If your cousin learned that I had not, it would give him more reason to question our marriage.”
Jo thought of arguing that Ambrose would never know but ended up nodding instead as her throat constricted. Of course, an important aspect of their marriage was keeping a united front. It was part of the bargain they had made. The bargain she meant to honor.
She nodded again without looking at him as he rose from the stool.
Robert thanked her and said a quick goodbye before he hastily left the room.