Page 14 of Claiming His Lost Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #8)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“ T hese are… quite a large number of duties.”

It did not take too long for Joan to find herself completely overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of her new responsibilities as the Duchess of Rutledge. Despite how carefully she tried to maintain her focus, Mrs. Wintersdown's patient explanations left her feeling winded and out of her depth.

From what the housekeeper said, Joan’s responsibilities fell within the scope of managing the household staff, overseeing the estate's social functions, and maintaining relationships with tenants.

Despite the clear-cut methods offered on how to carry out all those activities, Joan thought that getting used to her new life would be as complicated as learning a new language.

“Your Grace, the most important aspect of your role is ensuring harmony between His Grace and his tenants,” Mrs. Wintersdown explained as they strolled through the estate's gardens. “The previous duchess, God rest her soul, was beloved for her charitable works and her ability to mediate disputes.”

Joan nodded, trying to commit every detail to memory. She had never imagined that being a duchess would involve so much more than simply bearing the title. The weight of expectation pressed down upon her shoulders like a heavy cloak, one she had decided on her own to cover herself in.

“And the household traditions, Your Grace,” Penelope added with great enthusiasm, as though she did not find anything else quite as important as what she was about to speak on.

“There are seasonal celebrations, charitable events, and of course, the annual tenants' ball. His Grace has maintained all of these since inheriting the title, though...” She paused delicately.

“Though what?” Joan prompted.

“Well, Your Grace, he has always attended these events alone – if at all. Most of the time, he organized the celebration and provided all that would be needed for a good time, but would not bother to stay. The tenants have been quite curious about him, especially concerning when he might take a wife. They shall be quite pleased to meet you properly.”

The thought of being scrutinized by so many people made Joan's stomach flutter nervously.

She had spent the last five years trying to remain invisible, attributing her survival to how well she could blend in seamlessly without being noticed.

And now she was expected to be the public face of one of England's most prestigious duchies.

It was inconceivable and not for the first time, she wondered if marrying Graham was a wise decision.

After spending the morning learning about menu planning, staff schedules, and the intricate social obligations that came with her new position, Joan found herself desperate for a moment of peace with her daughter. Sophia always had a way of grounding her when the world felt too overwhelming.

But when Joan searched Sophia's chambers, the nursery, and even the kitchens, her daughter was nowhere to be found. Even the maids had not seen their little lady scurrying around as she loved to do, eyes alight with curiosity. Panic began to creep up her spine as she hurried through corridor after corridor, calling her daughter’s name with increasing desperation.

“Sophia?” she called out, her voice echoing through the grand hallways. “Sophia, where are you, my darling?”

The silence that greeted her only intensified her fear.

What if Sophia had wandered outside and gotten lost on the grounds of the vast estate?

What if she had fallen down the stairs? This would give the Duke all the proof he needed to assert that Joan was an unfit mother and have her stripped of her parental custody. What if –

Joan forced herself to take a deep breath, realizing in a little moment of clarity that this was not the way to go about things. She needed help, and there was only one person in this house with the authority to summon every servant in search of her daughter.

She practically ran to Graham's study, not bothering to knock before bursting through the door. “Your Grace, I need your help. Sophia is missing, and I cannot find her anywhere, and – “

The words died in her throat as she took in the scene before her.

The Duke sat behind his large mahogany desk, papers scattered across its surface, but he was not alone. Sophia was curled up on a plush chair beside the window, a children's book in her lap, her red curls catching the afternoon sunlight as she traced the illustrations with her small finger.

“Mama!” Sophia exclaimed, looking up with bright eyes. “Papa has the most wonderful books! This one has pictures of horses, castles, and princesses!”

Joan felt her heart twist strangely in her chest at hearing her daughter call Graham 'Papa' so naturally.

It did not surprise Joan, who knew how much Sophia had dreamed of this moment for years – of having a father figure who truly cared for her.

However, now that it was happening, Joan felt inexplicably threatened by it.

She did not think it would take such little time for her daughter to accept her father, much less crave his company so eagerly.

“Sophia, you shouldn't be disturbing your father while he works,” Joan said quickly, moving toward her daughter. “Come, let us leave him in peace.”

Her hands had barely touched Sophia’s shoulders when her husband’s voice permeated the air around them.

“Actually,” Graham interjected, looking up from his work, “I invited her to stay. She was wandering the halls looking quite lost, so I thought she might enjoy some company while I attended to some correspondence. Although, I must admit I that I might have not been as entertaining as she might have preferred, seeing as I merely showed her to some books and left her to her devices.”

His voice was gentle, but Joan could hear something else underneath, perhaps disappointment that she had assumed the worst of the situation. The admission he made at the end carried a slight echo of hesitation and Joan tightened her hold on her daughter instinctively.

“Oh no, Your Grace. I appreciate your generosity, but she might surely be interrupting your important work –”

“I assure you, it is all right. I believe that as a parent, nothing is more important than our daughter's comfort and happiness, no?” Graham said firmly, before looking down at Sophia, his smile a little uncertain. “She has been an absolute angel, haven't you, darling?”

Sophia beamed at the endearment, though she was clearly pleased to be so adored as she nodded excitedly. “Papa taught me some Scottish words! And he said when I'm older, he'll teach me to ride horses!”

The casual way Sophia said 'Papa' again made something twist painfully in Joan's chest. It had been so easy for them to bond, so natural, even.

It had only been a mere few days since they had started cohabiting together, and somehow, Graham had managed to secure a place in Sophia's heart that Joan had spent years protecting.

“That's... that's wonderful, darling,” Joan managed, forcing a smile. “But you really should come with me now. You need to have your bath before supper.”

“But Mama, I want to stay with Papa – “

“Sophia,” Joan's voice came out sharper than she intended, causing both Graham and Sophia to look at her with surprise. She softened her tone immediately. “Please come with me. Now.”

Graham rose out of his seat, his brow furrowed with concern. “If you insist, Joan. I do not believe her time here was as well-spent as it could’ve been, but I did not mind at all. There's no rush – “

“She needs her bath,” Joan insisted, scooping Sophia up into her arms despite her daughter's soft protest. “Say goodbye to... to His Grace.”

“Goodbye, Papa!” Sophia called over Joan's shoulder as she was carried from the room. “Will you read with me again tomorrow?”

“Of course, mo leannan ,” Graham replied, but his eyes were fixed on Joan's retreating figure with an expression she couldn't quite decipher.

Joan didn't stop walking until she reached Sophia's chambers, her heart pounding within the crevices of her chest in a way that made her feel sick. She gently set Sophia down and immediately busied herself preparing the bath, needing something to do with her hands.

“Mama, why did we have to leave so quickly?” Sophia asked, her small voice tinged with confusion. “Papa wasn't finished showing me his books.”

“Because,” Joan said, testing the water temperature a few more times than necessary, “You cannot simply impose yourself on people when they have important work to do.”

Sophia frowned, her expression telling of the confusion she felt at having to decipher a big word all by herself.

Joan would usually help her by explaining it or providing another word entirely that was simpler for her to handle.

But her thoughts were too clouded by the mess of emotions within her that she couldn’t even notice her daughter’s struggle.

“But he said I could stay,” Sophia whined eventually. “He said he liked having me there.”

Joan's hands stilled in the warm water.

Of course, Graham would say that. Of course, he would be everything she had never dared hope for in a father for Sophia. He was shaping up to be an ideal man far more quickly than Joan had expected, easily defeating all her expectations. And that terrified her more than she could possibly express.

“Come here, my love,” she said softly, helping Sophia out of her dress. “Into the tub with you.”

As she gently washed Sophia's hair, Joan tried to push away the image of how comfortable her daughter had looked in Graham's study, how natural their interaction had seemed. She had always been enough for Sophia before. They had been a complete unit, just the two of them against the hardships of life for all of Sophia’s life.

Now, there was someone else who was going to do whatever he could to ensure she never had to endure any form of hardship at all, which is what Joan had dreamed of for so long.

A peaceful life for herself and her daughter, one where their needs were all met adequately and they were safe and sound and together.

So why was she feeling so threatened and discontent?

“Mama?” Sophia's voice pierced Joan’s thoughts as she played with the soap bubbles. “Are you happy?”

The question caught Joan off guard. “Of course I'm happy, darling. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Sophia turned to look at her with those perceptive blue eyes that seemed far too wise for a four-year-old. “Because you don't look happy. You have the same face you used to make when we didn't have enough food for supper.”

Joan felt her breath cling to the walls of her lungs, sticky and too heavy for the room there. “Sophia, I – “

“You're not very good at lying, Mama. You always used to say that lying was bad and that we shouldn't do it.”

Oh, what a cruel twist of irony it was, to be lectured by one’s offspring, on a matter one had previously lectured said offspring on.

Joan did not know whether she should be proud or frustrated.

“I'm not lying, my sweet girl. I am happy. I'm just... worried that this is such a big change for us both. If you ever feel like you don't like it here, we can leave. Just the two of us, like before.”

Sophia's eyes widened with something that looked like panic. “No, Mama! I don't want to leave Papa! I love him already, and he promised to teach me about horses and Scotland and – “

“Shh,” Joan soothed, caressing Sophia's soft cheek. “You don't have to leave him. I merely wanted you to know that you have choices. It doesn’t have to be this life, not if you do not want it.”

But even as she said the words, Joan felt the familiar clench of panic in her chest. Who would want anything less than this?

It should have been no surprise that Sophia was already becoming attached to Graham, already seeing him as a permanent fixture in their lives.

What would happen when he inevitably grew tired of playing father?

What would happen when he realized that Joan brought nothing to their marriage except complications and a child he had never planned for?

The thought of watching Sophia's heart break when Graham inevitably abandoned them was almost more than Joan could bear.

“I love you, Mama,” Sophia said suddenly, wrapping her small, wet arms around Joan's neck. “And I love Papa too. I think papa loves you too.”

Joan closed her eyes against the well-intentioned words of her daughter. “I don’t know if that is necessarily true, poppet. And… I do not know if I can love him too,” she whispered in a small act of vulnerability.

She did not believe she was capable of such an emotion, not with what she had endured in her life.

“You will,” Sophia stared firmly. “You’re like the princess in my story who was scared of what she would become with the prince by her side. But his love saved her! Papa and I will love you and save you, too!”

Quite an imagination on this one , Joan thought with a mixture of amusement and terror. If a four-year-old could see through her so easily, what hope did she have of hiding her intentions and feelings about Graham and his effect on their life from him?

As she helped Sophia out of the bath and into her nightgown, Joan couldn't shake the feeling that she was losing control of the careful walls she had built around her heart.

Graham was proving to be everything she had never dared hope for – kind, patient, genuinely caring toward both her and Sophia.

And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying thing of all.