Page 15 of Claiming His Lost Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #8)

CHAPTER TWELVE

G raham settled into the familiar leather chair at the club he frequented regularly, wondering if it had been a wise decision after all to seek the company of his closest friends after the emotional turmoil of the past few days.

Lysander was already ahead so early in the evening, nursing a brandy and wearing his characteristic knowing smirk.

“Well, well,” Lysander drawled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Look what the cat dragged in. The mysterious bridegroom himself.”

Julian looked up from his newspaper with a more reserved smile. “Congratulations on your marriage, Graham. Though I must say, we were all rather surprised by the... expedited nature of the ceremony.”

“Expedited?” Lysander scoffed, signaling for another round of drinks.

“The man got married without so much as sending word to his own family. Margaret is beside herself with disappointment. She had been planning your wedding since you inherited the title, you know. Dreams of orange blossoms and morning coats and at least three hundred guests. You should be ashamed of yourself for tossing aside her lofty aspirations.”

Graham winced slightly. He adored his eldest sister, but Margaret had always possessed an unfortunate tendency toward theatrical dramatics, over the most unlikely scenarios, too. “I'll make it up to her. Joan and I can host a proper reception once we've settled into married life.”

“Ah, yes, the mysterious Joan,” Lysander leaned forward with interest. “Tell us about this woman who managed to snare Scotland's most elusive bachelor.

And don't give me any of that love-at-first-sight nonsense. I know you too well to accept such childish lore. Whatever happened to your pledge to be single until you found the woman who had stolen your heart and coins five years ago?”

Graham accepted his whisky from the server and took a long sip, considering how much to reveal. These men were his closest friends, practically his brothers, but the truth about Joan and Sophia felt too precious, too fragile to expose to scrutiny.

“She's... extraordinary,” he said finally. “Beautiful, intelligent, devoted to her daughter.”

“Her daughter?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “So you've married the widow, then?”

Graham felt himself grow strangely bashful. “Well, not exactly.”

Explaining would be a bother, because he understood that in some ways, Lysander’s protectiveness had been contacted through his marriage to Graham’s sister, Margaret.

And he knew that he had deliberately gone against his friend’s wishes when he pursed the love of his life.

But Lysander would have to get over whatever betrayal he might feel about the situation, because there was no other option for Graham.

He was only ever going to want and choose Joan to be with.

Lysander's eyes sharpened with interest. “Not exactly a widow, or not exactly her daughter?”

“Both,” Graham admitted, then quickly added, “Sophia… the child is mine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lysander's mouth fell open in a way that would have been comical under different circumstances, while Julian simply stared at Graham with a thoughtful expression that was not unfamiliar to him.

“Yours,” Lysander repeated slowly. “As in, you have a child. A child you never mentioned in the years we’ve known you.”

“In all fairness, I was unaware of her existence until recently,” Graham explained. “Joan… my wife, is the woman I had spoken about before, countless times. The night we shared yielded a child.”

Julian set down his newspaper entirely, leaning back in his chair with something approaching awe. “The very woman you've been obsessing over for years?”

Graham sputtered, feeling a little embarrassed suddenly. “I was not obsessed – “

“You swore to marry her if you ever found her again and refused to look at any other woman in the meantime. Not to mention that you never called off your search for her, no matter how futile it seemed. It was clearly a case of obsession,” Julian cut him off, matter-of-factly.

With a sigh, Graham admitted, “The very same.”

“How can you be certain? I mean no disrespect, but women can be quite cunning. Five years is a long time. She could have had a child for several men in that time. Why do you believe her daughter is yours?” Julian inquired carefully.

Graham understood his friend was only looking out for him and tried not to feel too offended by the line of questioning. But still, there was a little bitterness in his voice as he stated, deadpan,

“The child has my hair. The odds of Joan being with another Scot in the time we were apart are slim, considering the fact that without myself and my family, neither of you would know any other Scots.”

Lysander shook his head in disbelief. “You magnificent bastard. Here we all thought you were hopelessly romantic, pining after some impossible ideal, and all along you were unknowingly searching for the mother of your child. It is quite impressive how you managed to gain a family overnight. Congratulations once again.”

“I wish things had been that simple,” Graham said, swirling his whisky. “She had refused to tell me about Sophia when we first reunited. For some reason, she was rather intent on letting me believe she was someone else's child entirely.”

“Why?” Julian asked quietly, voicing what they all thought.

Graham was quiet for a long moment, thinking of Joan's fearful eyes, the way she instinctively clung to Sophia, as though she was protecting her from threats only she knew about or could perceive.

“I am… unsure, myself. I suppose it was because she was rather protective of Sophia – which I have come to understand as likely the instincts of a mother simply trying to ensure the safety of her child. It is rather frustrating, because I am the child’s father and I wish to get to know her, but…

her mother seems to harbor some distrust for me. I cannot fathom why, though.”

There were a number of things about Joan that made Graham restless.

He could barely control himself around her, almost entirely consumed by the desire within him to claim her again and again.

Over and over, until all they knew was each other.

But Joan had this wall around her, one that Graham was worried would collapse on her if he got too close and prodded too hard.

She was shrouded in so much mystery, and Graham was very unsure what the right move was when it came to dealing with her.

“And now?” Lysander prompted.

“Now I have a wife who acts as though she wants me one moment and can barely stand my presence the next. I have a daughter who is the most precious thing I've ever laid eyes on, and a marriage that feels like it's built on quicksand.”

Julian leaned forward with a casual shrug. “Marriage is always built on quicksand in the beginning, Graham. The trick is learning to build something solid while it feels like both of you are still sinking.”

“Very poetic,” Lysander said dryly. “What Julian is trying to say is that you're going to have to be patient.

Perhaps this woman has some sort of trouble from her past that is the cause of her reluctance.

If that is the case, she's not going to trust your intentions easily.

You'll have to prove yourself, likely repeatedly.”

Graham nodded, knowing his friends were right even as frustration gnawed at him. He wanted Joan to see him the way she had that first night – as someone who could keep her safe, someone worthy of her trust and affection.

“She's worth the effort,” he said simply.

“They always are,” Julian agreed. “The ones worth keeping always are.”

The conversation turned to lighter topics after that, but Graham found his mind wandering as his friends steered the discussion toward mundane topics such as politics and business ventures.

It wasn’t long after that that he took his leave, and by then, the London streets were dark and mostly empty, lit only by the occasional gas lamp.

The carriage ride home gave him too much time to think about Joan's behavior that afternoon.

The way she had rushed into his study in a panic, then immediately tried to remove Sophia from his presence as though he was some kind of threat.

He understood her protective instincts, but her fear of him specifically was something he suspected would eventually wear on his patience.

He had done nothing to earn such suspicion.

If anything, he had been a model of restraint and consideration.

He had married her to give her and Sophia security and respectability.

He had provided them with a home, servants, and fine clothing.

He asked for nothing in return except the opportunity to be a father to his daughter and a husband to the woman he had never been able to forget.

Was that truly so threatening?

The house was quiet when he arrived, most of the servants having retired for the evening.

Graham made his way toward the stairs, intent on checking on Sophia before seeking his own rest. It had become a habit he had developed quite recently, these nighttime visits to ensure his daughter was sleeping peacefully.

A small sound from the direction of the kitchens caught his attention. Graham froze, his hand moving instinctively to the knife he kept concealed in his boot. While the house had excellent security, one could never be too careful.

He moved silently toward the sound, every muscle in his body coiled taut for potential confrontation. The kitchen door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, he could see a small figure moving stealthily through the shadows.

An intruder, but a very small one.

Graham pushed the door open fully, ready to confront whoever had dared break into his home. The figure spun around with a small gasp, and Graham felt his heart nearly stop.