Page 6 of Claiming His Lost Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #8)

CHAPTER FIVE

“ G eorgina!”

Joan slammed the door shut behind her after she stepped into the house, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

Even though they were now within the walls of their home and hopefully far away from that man, Joan couldn’t bring herself to lower Sophia onto her own two feet.

If something has happened… if he had realized the truth on his own in her absence, it might’ve been too late. She might’ve never seen Sophia again.

“Georgina!” Joan called out again, her anxious, desperate heart beating furiously within her chest.

She had only taken five steps past the foyer before her cousin came rushing from around a corner.

“My goodness, Joan! What on earth is the matter? I was in the library when I heard your call! It is quite improper for a lady to run around, screaming. What sort of examples are you setting for your —”

“Did anyone say anything?” Joan asked, interrupting her.

Georgina stood there, confused.

“Did who say anything about what?” she asked slowly.

Joan shook her head, walking closer to her cousin. “Did you hear any rumors about me? Does anyone know that we lied about my husband being dead?”

She had not expected to see him ever again, much less so soon after she had moved back to London to start her life over.

But she was certain he was the one she had met in the park.

He would have recognized him from miles away.

And it was quite obvious that he recognized her as well, with how intent he was on keeping Joan there with his invasive questions.

She was not sure he believed her claims of being a widow, but if he found out that she had lied, not only would he ruin her reputation, but he would also have cause to take Sophia away from her.

“No, Joan,” Georgina said calmly, reaching out to pat her on the back reassuringly. “I promise, if we had been found out already, we would've heard about it. But I haven't heard even a mumble that suggests anyone doubts our story. Do not worry, Joan. Our plan is working perfectly.”

Joan breathed in slowly, telling herself to trust her cousin and their fabricated story. Even if he had any suspicions, it would be difficult to act without any proof.

“You are right,” Joan stated, finally calming down. “If anyone suspected anything, we would've been questioned about it. I am sorry about my outbursts earlier. I was worried for nothing, it would seem.”

Georgina waved a hand in the air dismissively.

“Do not worry about it too much. I’m sure all the plans we laid out are still intact. In the meantime, you must get yourself ready. We will be having an important guest join us for dinner. He could very well be your future husband.”

With that information, Joan felt her mood turn sour immediately.

“I believe I already expressed my stance on the matter, Georgina. I have no desire to get married. Why must you insist on this?” she asked, feeling annoyed.

“You forget, cousin, that I am not wealthy enough to support us all forever. I barely have enough between us both, and like I mentioned, your daughter would want to have a father. It will make her much more confident about her upbringing,” Georgina pointed out, exasperated.

She already has a father — she even met him this afternoon, Joan said to herself, feeling drained as she considered sitting across a man she did not know all evening.

Still, she did not want to disrespect Georgina by refusing to entertain a guest she had invited, so begrudgingly, she said,

“I will meet with this man, but I will not harbor any intentions to marry just yet.

I believe these things — getting to know someone I might spend the rest of my life with — take time, and I do not want to make an impulsive, unsuitable choice.

Not when I have to consider Sophia's well-being too. Please allow me some room for deliberation.”

She hoped this would give her some leniency with her cousin and was relieved when Georgina nodded.

“Certainly. As long as you will be present for dinner, I am satisfied with that. Oh, I simply can’t wait! Do get ready on time! I shall go and tend to the final preparations,” she replied excitedly, before scurrying out of the room.

Joan exhaled deeply, feeling truly exhausted. Finally aware that the danger she believed was lingering had passed, she set Sophia down on her feet.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was really worried about you because I couldn't find you all of a sudden. Are you all right? Did you get hurt?” she asked her daughter gently.

Sophia shook her head, sending her auburn curls flying about.

“I am fine, Mama. I'm sorry I let go of your hand and couldn't find you at the park. I saw some pretty flowers and I wanted to bring you one.”

Touched, Joan went down on her knees so she could look at her daughter closely.

“I appreciate that you wanted to bring me a gift, but we have plenty of flowers here at home. Next time, you can just… show them to me, instead of wandering off to get them yourself. All right?”

Sophia nodded again, clinging closely to her mother, moments later, when Joan held her arms open for a hug.

As she stroked her daughter’s auburn hair, she was forced to recall the coincidental meeting with the child’s father. Even with all the years that had passed, she had never forgotten him.

But seeing him earlier had not brought up any urges to reminisce over what they had shared that night.

Joan had forced herself not to look directly at him, no matter how her heart had wanted her to.

But the warmth that had spread through her body when he had grabbed her arm was distinctively familiar, and it had been all she could do to fight the weakness in her knees.

She had to ensure that she stayed away from him at all costs. And she could no longer allow Sophia to wander out of her sight in public, although the day’s earlier events had been an accident.

It is fine, she told herself as she pressed kisses to the crown of her daughter's head, cheeks, and forehead. As long as we’re together, everything will be fine.

“Would you like some assistance with that? You’ve wrapped and unwrapped your hands five times in half as many minutes.”

Graham let out a grunt of frustration and held out his hand to his friend, Lysander Millington, Duke of Windermoor, who tutted playfully as he helped the younger man with his problem.

“You've grown quite a bit in all the years I've known you, Graham.

You've matured from a mischievous little prankster to a reliable young man with a good head on his shoulders.

Although I can hardly fathom what goes on in there.

It has truly been a feat watching you grow.

You're like the brother I never asked for.”

Graham stared at Lysander, his emotions a confused blend of disgust and touched, wondering what he was expected to say to such an unexpected speech. Thankfully, the other man who lingered at the edge of the boxing ring snorted and said pointedly,

“Ignore him, Rutledge. He's merely trying to butter him up so you'll go easy on him while you spar. He's likely worried he might pop a hip if he goes too far.”

“I'm only six years older than you are, you bloody bastard,” Lysander glared.

The man, Julian Harrow, Duke of Morland, sneered, his eyes alight in mock surprise.

“You don’t say. You move like one of my great aunts, so I was under the impression that you were much, much older.”

Lysander's left eye twitched, and he pointed at the ring.

“Get in, now. I’ll show you who’s old.”

But before Julian could step forward, Graham held his arm out between them.

“I’m going first. Whichever of you would like to have their arses handed to them first can join me.”

They looked surprised by his words, and he used the opportunity to climb into the ring, stretching as he walked along the length and breadth of it. Moments later, Lysander joined him, having lost the coin toss that had taken place between him and Julian.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You might be my dear brother-in-law, but I must defend my honor. Surely you understand.” Lysander stared as he flexed his hands before curling them into fists that he held up as a guard.

Graham could feel the frustration he had barely managed to curtail through most of the day since the encounter he had at the park reach a breaking point. Slowly, he nodded as he said, his tone empty.

“I understand perfectly.”

And then he struck first.

Lysander put up a good guard, blocking or dodging most of Graham's attacks, but the younger man gave him no room to hand out strikes of his own.

Lysander found himself in a corner sooner than he had expected, and he had to risk his guard to finally get in a punch.

It afforded him the chance to slip away as Graham guarded himself with ease.

“If I did not know any better, I would've assumed that there were some unresolved matters between you and me,” Lysander exclaimed, panting.

“I believe we had previously established that you do not know any better,” Julian exclaimed from where he stood observing them.

“Why you insolent —”

“You're too slow,” Graham stated with a frustrated sigh.

Right before he managed to land a hit on Lysander, right in his solar plexus. With a groan of pain, the other man sank to his knees, struggling to breathe for a moment.

Graham stood straight, his chest heaving with exertion as he walked out of the ring.

“Were you trying to kill me?” Lysander coughed after a moment.

“Not purposely,” Graham responded curtly.

Outraged, Lysander rose to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at Graham,

“You might be my wife's only younger brother, but I am also her only husband.

She would grieve too much if she lost me.

Why were you so aggressive today, anyway?

You're usually the sort to jump around and toy with your opponents as long as you possibly can.” Lysander pointed out, gradually recovering from the attack he hadn't seen coming.

Graham shook his head, unsure if he should bring up the matter.

“You cannot claim that nothing is wrong. You have been on edge all evening. What happened?” Julian pressed, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

With a deep exhale, Graham approached them as he said, “I finally found the woman I have been searching for.”

Lysander glanced at Julian before he said, “I thought congratulations would be in order, but taking in the look on your face, I take it matters are more complicated than we should assume.”

“Quite right,” Graham stated with a nod. “I was still unable to get her name properly — she wouldn’t even let me confirm if the one she’d given me all those years ago was truly her name. But at least, I am certain that she is in London. It should make finding her much easier.”

Lysander wasn’t easily convinced, however. Slowly, he asked, “Well, what new information were you able to learn about her, now that you have crossed paths with the woman you've sworn will be your beloved?”

Graham hesitated for a moment, then he announced carefully,

“Well… she is a widow. And she has a young daughter.”

Almost immediately, Lysander shook his head, the disapproval already written all over his face before he spoke.

“I do not like the sound of that one bit. There were already strange circumstances around her, but now that you are privy to the information that she is not only a widow but a mother, I feel as though you should reconsider your affections for her. We barely know who she is and what sort of family she is from. Now we must consider those factors regarding her husband, now — not to mention the circumstances surrounding his death. You are far too noble and good to take on burdens you have no business paying any attention to. The ton already scrutinizes you for things you did not do. The last thing you need is the scrutiny over you multiplying for reasons beyond your control.”

Graham understood what Lysander was saying and why he thought it wasn't ideal for him to long for a woman shrouded in so much mystery.

But he knew in his gut that something wasn't right. The way she wouldn't look at him spoke in volumes, and that child… what were the odds that her late father's hair was just like Graham's?

Judging by how young she was, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that perhaps Graham had given her mother more than just what he hoped were fond memories that night.

He couldn’t give up on her, not without answers directly from her. Not when it seemed that she was finally within his reach.

“I have never been particularly bothered by what the ton thinks of me. If they wish to find faults in the way I live my life, then that is a problem they should shoulder by themselves, seeing as they’re the ones who created it.

But I do not want to give up on this woman.

Not when everything in me only thinks and craves her,” Graham said, determined to see this through to the end.

If what his instincts were telling him was true, then there was only one thing he had to do.

He had to make her his wife.