Page 10 of Claiming His Lost Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #8)

CHAPTER EIGHT

“ O h, darling, does it still hurt?”

Joan watched, her heart breaking, and Sophia whined, tossing and turning in pain. She had been fine the night before, when Joan checked in with her after she returned from the ball.

Then this morning, she had refused to eat her breakfast, claiming that she did not want to. An hour after that, she developed a fever.

Joan was growing increasingly worried because no matter what she did, the child wasn't getting any better.

Her worries were amplified by her encounter with Graham the night before, as she began to wonder if, truly, she was an unfit and insufficient parent for Sophia, like Georgina had been implying all along.

“I’m sorry, poppet. I will get you some help. You’ll feel better in no time,” Joan fiercely promised, setting a damp cloth on the child’s forehead before she left the room.

Outside, she told herself it was necessary to go to Georgina for help, at least one last time. She did not like how much she replied to her cousin, but the situation didn't offer her any other choice.

With a deep breath, she walked down to the drawing room, where Georgina usually spent her time relaxing, startled to find her with a guest. She grew displeased to see it was none other than the Baron of Highcastle.

Joan had managed to steer clear of the man during the ball, especially because Graham had taken most of her attention then, but even now, she felt no urge to apologize for any of the things she had said to him.

Acknowledging the Baron with a singular, quick curtsey, Joan turned to her cousin and pleaded,

“Georgina, please, we must send for a physician at once. Sophia is really sick, and despite all my attempts, she does not appear to be improving. She needs help from someone who can provide it.”

Georgina looked sympathetic for a moment, and then she shook her head.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Joan. I am simply not financially capable of doing that. I can barely manage to make ends meet with two other mouths to feed and house now. We cannot afford to send for a physician,” she said with a frown.

Joan was devastated.

“H-How? How can we not afford it? I've given you all my earnings from my work as a tutor, and somehow, we're still barely scraping by?

Please, Georgina. I'm frightened, and she is in pain. We need to get help,” she pressed, ready to fall on her knees if it meant she would get what she was looking for.

“I might be able to assist you,” Highcastle stated suddenly.

Reluctantly, Joan turned to him, confused and surprised that he would even choose to involve himself in a conversation that was not about him.

“You might?” Joan echoed, feeling suspicious and weary.

Highcastle smiled and sat back, spreading his arms with a pompous expression.

“Certainly. I am willing to do just anything for my wife. Whatever she desires, she will have it. But you see, I cannot simply give money away. Not to a woman I have no connection to, and certainly not one who disrespected me so boldly. You’re proud of your intelligence and wit, so I am sure I do not need to tell you what you need to do. ”

Fury filled Joan’s veins. She couldn’t believe that Highcastle had the gall to smirk at her as he used her most vulnerable moment to his advantage. She nearly considered it, desperate beyond reason, but then she recalled how familiar she was with men like Lord Highcastle.

His ego and hubris reminded her of her uncle, with his disgusting expectations and suggestions, along with how superior he felt over her. After the day she left this house, she had sworn never again to be under the mercy of such a man.

“No. I'd rather take my chances with fate than rely on someone like you,” she said coldly, before leaving the drawing room.

Georgina followed her, irate and scolding.

“Why would you do that? Why do you insist on doing things your way? You need help, and yet you feel too proud to accept it when it is offered?”

“That wasn't an offer of help, Georgina. That was a ploy to demean me. No one who truly wishes to do the right thing would attempt such, not when a child's life is on the line,” Joan told her, not even looking at her cousin, as she busied herself covering Sophia up with a cloak.

“If you leave now, I don't think I can help you anymore,” Georgina said when Joan lifted her daughter into her arms.

Joan paused at the door, still worried about her child but unable to ignore the feeling of relief that flooded her heart as she realized that she was about to leave this house again and hopefully never return, for good this time.

“If I’m lucky, I will not need your help.”

“I don't think that will work,” Graham shook his head, pointing at a clause in the contract that had been drawn up by his guests.

“Those fishermen stay at sea for days to bring back a decent catch. Paying them so little in return demeans their work. Increase their salaries and then perhaps we might have a suitable offer to present.”

His partner, Mr Damien Wright, nodded at his suggestion, and the other, his solicitor, raised a question on the subject of how long the contract duration should be.

Graham was only working so much in an attempt to give his mind a reprieve from thoughts of Joan, but it wasn’t working.

He had gotten another taste of her, and now he was certain his life would fall apart if she wasn't in it. He was glad he had trusted his instincts, because it had earned him confirmation that not only was Joan the very same woman he had met all those years ago, but her child was also his.

He had a daughter, a bright-eyed princess who bore his hair.

Graham had gained a deeper understanding of why his father always emphasized how much he loved that his family looked like they had been born of his love and life.

He did not even know Sophia yet, but he already knew that his heart would belong to her.

And her mother as well, if only Joan would allow it.

Her rejection has confused him, and it has made him wonder if she was truly a widow.

Perhaps she still cared for her late husband.

Perhaps she had someone else her heart belonged to.

But then… the way she had kissed him last night told him that at least, she reciprocated his need for her.

Her sighs, her whimpers, and moans were clear signs that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

So why was she intent on rejecting him?

The look in her eyes after his proposal had been quite strange, and he did not understand why she had sounded terrified as she ran from him again.

“This is the last time,” he had whispered as he watched her leave. “ Next time, I will not let you go so easily.”

There were so many questions Graham needed answers to, but now was not the time to dwell on any of them.

“I think we should consider a trial period first, so we can determine just how well they can work and what sort of quota and goals they can handle —”

A knock at the door interrupted the Duke, and when he told whoever it was to come in, his butler, Mr. Williams, walked in.

“There is someone here to see you, Your Grace,” he announced.

“I am busy. Have them wait in the drawing room,” Graham frowned, as it was quite clear that he was currently occupied with an important meeting.

Williams hesitated, and it forced Graham to grunt, “What?”

The butler looked uneasy at first, then he said, “It is a woman, with a child, Your Grace. She said it was urgent.”

Graham went perfectly still.

“What did she say her name was?” he asked carefully.

“Miss Joan Brooks, Your Grace.”

Graham rose to his feet immediately.

“You’re dismissed. We will pick this up at another time.”

Damien looked as though he wished to refute his dismissal, but Andrew spoke instead. “Certainly, Your Grace. Enjoy your day.”

Graham was already halfway out of his study by then, urging Williams to lead the way.

Why? Why did she change her mind? Did something happen?

When he arrived at the drawing room and found her standing there, something in him crumbled pathetically.

She carried their daughter in her arms, but he could see Joan's hands shaking, and whatever he wanted to say about how glad he was to see her evaporated from his mind.

Slowly, Graham walked towards her, only stopping when he was close enough to touch her, frowning immediately when he felt the heat radiating from Sophia.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I-I am sorry for coming here unannounced. I had nowhere else to go, and Sophia has been sick all day —”

She had barely finished her statement before Graham leaned back and called out,

“Williams!”

The butler appeared immediately! “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Call for a physician at once. Send a carriage to fetch him, quickly.”

“Right away, Your Grace.”

Once the butler was gone, Graham tried to retrieve Sophia from her mother’s arms, worried she might be tired if she had carried her all the way here.

To his surprise, she flinched, protectively tightening her grip on the child. Slowly, he reached out and caressed Joan's cheek.

“Do not worry. She’ll be in safe hands. You both are,” he assured her gently, locking his gaze onto hers.

Joan didn’t speak, but she let him take Sophia the next time he tried, staying close as he cradled the child in his arms.

“Follow me,” he beckoned softly, nodding in the direction of the door.

Joan did as he asked, walking with him as he led her to another room. Gently, he set Sophia down on the bed and pulled the covers over her small, shivering body. He told Joan to sit for a moment, and then he walked out again to speak with a maid.

“Fetch a cup of tea for my guest and have the cook prepare some soup for the child,” he instructed.

The maid bowed before she went to do his bidding, and he returned to Joan’s side, reassuring her.

“She will be just fine. I'll do everything in my power to ensure that.”

Joan kept her eyes on Sophia, looking slightly lost, and the sight of her looking so sad made his heart hurt.

It only just urged him to vow once more to never let this woman leave his side again. He would protect her from anything and everything that was a threat to her happiness.

The hours after that passed by in a blur.

Joan could barely taste the tea she had been given but sipped it dutifully when Graham asked her to, watching as the maids scurried about, making the room more comfortable for Sophia.

They wiped her down and brought a bowl of soup for her to eat, lingering while the physician examined her.

The kind man assured them that Sophia had likely caught a cold from playing in the cold for too long, and then he prescribed some medicine for her.

“Keep her warm and feed her as many liquids as you can; juices and soups. The fever should break by sunrise, but if it doesn't, please summon me once again,” he told the Duke and Joan.

Joan let out a breath of relief, startled when she realized that she had been holding onto Graham’s hand the whole time. Even more surprising was the fact that he had not brushed her off or pulled her away.

It was strange how comfortable he made her feel, how easily he reassured her with just a few words, and how kind he had been since her arrival. He did not blame her for Sophia's illness or call her an unfit mother.

He had worked to remedy the situation as quickly as possible.

She did not understand why he had done so much for them, why he had been so willing to comfort her as well.

Joan was still quite wary about him, but more than that, she believed that Graham might be the safest choice for Sophia’s well-being.

“How are you feeling? I understand that this must have been quite a scare,” Graham asked once the doctor had left and Sophia had fallen asleep.

“Tired,” Joan admitted quietly. “But grateful. I do not know what I would have done if you hadn’t helped?—”

“There is never going to be an instance where I wouldn’t want to help you, Joan. Especially when our child is involved,” Graham cut her off gently.

It was strange and startling, to hear someone else refer to her daughter as theirs, not just singularly, but as part of a shared custody with her. For all of Sophia’s life, all she’d had was her mother. Joan had given her life to raise her daughter and was willing to give much more if need be.

But none of that could compare to what the duke could provide, which would grant him an upper hand. She was terrified of sharing Sophia with him, scared that he would take advantage of them. She did not want her daughter hurt and she did not want to lose her child.

Joan did not understand why he was so intent on being with her – with them – and she realized she was afraid to ask as well.

Graham reached for her, then he seemed to reconsider, and then he pointed at the door instead.

“A room was prepared for you, but I suspect you might want to stay with Sophia here instead, and that is fine. But you should get some rest soon,” he urged softly. “We'll talk some more in the morning. Good night.”

He turned around to leave, and Joan blurted out the decision she had made a few minutes ago.

“I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

Graham stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back to her and asked,

“Are you sure? Did you really change your mind or did the situation push you into making a decision you were not ready to undertake?”

Joan nodded, nervously toying with her fingers.

“Perhaps it is both. Sophia has needs that I can't meet. I work as a tutor, but I was still unable to get her the help she needed today. If you will care for her as much as I do, then that is all I ask.”

Graham looked bewildered, and he stepped forward, holding onto her hands once he was close enough.

“I will care for you both. That is all I ask. You will not have to work anymore once we are married. I will not allow it. You and Sophia… you both will have all you need and everything you desire. I swear it.”

Joan’s worries were still present, but the warmth of his hands around her made her wish to believe that it would all be all right.

“All right. I’ll be your wife.”