Page 14 of His Unexpected Duchess (Hearts of Whitmores #2)

CHAPTER 14

“ I know,” Nicholas told his sister again.

“So what will you do to fix everything?” she demanded.

He forced a smile. “That’s why I have you, my darling sister.”

The stern expression on her face didn’t exactly soften as he had hoped it might. Rather, she dropped her hands to her hips. Her new stance reminded him of his nursemaid chasing after him when he was still in leading strings.

“Nicholas, I cannot and will not fix your marriage for you,” Eleanor told him. “If you have made a muddle of things as you say you have, then you must do something to unmuddle them.”

“Is she at least eating the cakes?”

She rolled her eyes. “A chocolate torte won’t fix everything, Nicholas. You should know better than that.”

“I only want to fix things,” he muttered.

“And I believe you.” Her voice softened, as did her gaze. She dropped her hands to her sides. “But I cannot do it for you.”

Blowing out a deep breath, he shook his head. “No, I know. I should know this. Still, I do need some direction from you. Have you not spent more time in her company than I?”

“That’s not my fault.”

“It is your blessing, and hopefully mine if you will assist me,” he reasoned. Seeing the corner of her lips twitch, he pounced. “I understand your need to scold me, Eleanor. I have done it myself. But I must do something about this now.”

And so, reluctantly, Eleanor agreed to help.

It took three days of rescheduling meetings, managing his affairs, and getting everything sorted with his sister’s aid. After that, they had prepared everything he could possibly think of before he went to see his wife again.

Joanna jumped up from the settee in the library, nearly dropping her book. “Your Grace. I… Hello.”

Offering a polite bow, Nicholas responded, “Hello, Joanna. I believe your morning is free, and I hoped you would be available for a stroll in the gardens?”

“I… Well, yes. I suppose so.” She gingerly set her book down. When she neared him, he offered her his arm, and she only paused for a moment before accepting it. “I wished to speak with you anyway, Your Grace.”

“Nicholas, remember?”

Joanna gave him a pained smile. “Nicholas, then. I only wish to express my sincerest apologies for my behavior the other day. I am terribly sorry for everything I said and for any harm I might have caused you, the horses, and your phaeton.”

“Ours. It was meant to be a wedding gift, but I’m afraid I’d forgotten that,” he admitted while leading her down the stairs and outside.

“Oh.” She hesitated. “Thank you. However, I fear that is not wise.”

“Because you cannot drive?” he guessed, and noticed her cheeks reddening. He stifled a grin and shook his head. “That is my fault, and I intend to remedy it soon. You don’t drive, and you don’t ride horses either, do you?”

“I promised you I would learn,” she said with great hesitation.

He made certain to smile as he spoke. “I shall hold you to that promise, dear wife. But I must admit that I’m curious to know why a proper young lady like yourself had never learned to ride horses.”

Reaching the gardens, Joanna slowed down to admire the view. Though Nicholas understood that she came here often, she seemed to be taking in every blossoming flower as if it were her first time.

“My mother died when I was very young because of her horse,” she answered, at last. “No one in my family rode after that. My father and I always took carriages. Covered, he preferred.”

His heart sank. He should have known, should have guessed. A lump formed in his throat. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I had no idea.”

“It is not your fault. But I must exercise some caution around them. I used to have nightmares about horses as a child,” she explained, “after my mother’s passing.”

“That is only natural. Do you still have them?”

Joanna shook her head. “No. I sleep very well and rarely have bad dreams. I have learned from my error of judgment, but I never dared to even imagine learning to ride, let alone asking my father for his support.”

“Then perhaps we shall remedy that today. I would like to take you for a ride.” Nicholas steered her slowly toward the stables, and she gaped at him. “We have the sweetest mare who I think you will particularly enjoy. She has just arrived from a sojourn in the countryside. We’ll turn right away from the city and enjoy a quiet ride away from the noise and polluted air. Would you join me?”

“Truly?” Joanna stammered. Then, she quietly gasped as the stablemaster led out a horse. Small but strong, the blonde mare with a white mane stood still while flicking her tail. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”

Nicholas nudged her forward. “She’s yours.”

After explaining that the mare was from a recent brood and was trained to be a lady’s horse, the two-year-old creature having been brought from his family’s small stud farm for her just that morning, he showed her how to introduce herself to the creature.

It only took a minute before Joanna was marveling at the softness of the mare’s mane.

“Morning Dew,” the stableboy answered when she asked about her name.

Nicholas watched his mouth whisper the name, her lips curving around the letters. He swallowed hard. Things were going exceptionally well so far, though he had not anticipated the odd feelings in his chest. It was rather disorienting. But he persevered, promising to have Morning Dew saddled if Joanna changed into her riding habit.

“I’m sorry.” She surprised him with another blush. “But I don’t have one.”

He noted that she wore a familiar blue dress, pretty but faded and at least two years out of fashion. In fact, most of her dresses seemed very much the same. They flattered her well enough, but they focused on function rather than aesthetics in the end.

How did I not know this? How did anyone not know this? She came with a trousseau, did she not? I cannot imagine why she doesn’t wear the finest of things. That must be rectified. I should have ensured that from the beginning––how did I not notice? And yet, why would I, after having avoided her over the past couple of weeks?

Ashamed of his ignorance, he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I believe your dress will make do for today. Would you like to try being seated in the saddle?”

She glanced between him and Morning Dew while she chewed on her plump lower lip. The urge to taste her nearly consumed him right then, and he was relieved when she spoke. “Are you certain it is all right?”

Lifting his gaze to hers, he offered a reassuring smile. “It is. Nothing will happen, Joanna. I’ll protect you from any danger.”

Her eyes lingered on his as she slowly nodded.

She was beginning to trust him, he realized.

Nicholas had never had to work hard to earn someone’s trust before. That was what he seemed to be doing today. He squared his shoulders, eager to prove himself. He would, of course, keep his word.

Soon, he had helped his wife into the saddle and instructed her on what to do. Once he was on his horse, however, he took the lead rein from her to offer guidance in the street until they were on the country road.

“Here you are.” He handed the reins back to her. “Do you remember what I told you at the stables?”

Joanna deliberately repeated his instructions with an eager smile. She was nervous, yes, but he sensed the excitement growing within her. They moved at a trot at first. But by the time he showed her how to canter, she was laughing with unbridled glee. It reminded him of his childhood and youth. He and his siblings used to love running and riding roughshod in the country, untethered and free.

It occurred to him then that this was the same moment for Joanna. She had not enjoyed such a childhood. Her experience seemed to be far more limited than he could have imagined.

As they reached a tranquil lake, seeing others fishing on the far side, Nicholas helped her down. She was breathless as she braced her hands on his shoulders. She took a moment to steady herself. As she gazed around her in wonder, Nicholas used the opportunity to admire her.

“I’ve never been here before,” she admitted, awed. “How could we be within a short distance of London but see all of this natural beauty?”

Nicholas’s heart ached in a different way at that moment. Captivated by her light laugh as three butterflies floated by, he forgot to remove his hands from her waist until she twisted around to watch the colorful wings glide by.

He cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together.

Joanna was lovely, but her unguarded delight over the past hour left him feeling unsteady in more ways than one. She was beautiful, but so alive in a way he had not seen before. This outing of theirs, albeit small and simple, seemed to have pleased her more than anything else thus far.

What would it take to keep a smile like that on her face for the rest of my days? Simple rides and strolls outdoors? Good Lord, she would thrive out in the country. Yet, she’s spent her entire life here in London, so close with nothing in her grasp.

He cleared his throat again. “If you do not mind my curiosity, Joanna, might I ask why you have never been here before? This place is not hidden, and as you noted, it is not far from home.”

“My family… has always been busy.”

A good family, he knew, with a strong political position. She should have the best of everything and could have even traveled. There was no reason to see her in this older dress and estranged from the only city she had known.

“And yet…?” he prompted gently after seeing her hesitate.

He paused, giving her a moment as he tethered the horses to a nearby post. There was no one around to worry about thievery now. Then, he offered her his arm, and they started walking.

Eventually, Joanna sighed and spoke. “Father is the busy one. He buries himself in his work. It is all he has cared for since… well, since my mother passed away. Grief changed him. I believe he married in the bare hopes of siring an heir, but perhaps he gave that up. Perhaps he thought I needed another mother.”

“Did you?”

“No,” she said vehemently, before blushing. “That is, perhaps I did, but not her .”

Nicholas saw the gloves she wore—short but thick ones, offered to her by the stableboy. There were still a few bandages beneath them after her reckless phaeton ride several days ago. Eleanor and the physician had kept him well apprised of her recovery.

But then his eyes caught something else—a small bruise near her elbow, almost hidden between their arms.

“What is that?” he inquired.

“Nothing.” She started to pull back her arm, but he didn’t give her a chance as he grabbed it and inspected it.

The bruise was circular, he noted, and fading. It had to be days old. Perhaps as old as the blisters. He frowned and looked up at her, only for her to look away.

“Do you want to hear about my family or not?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded grudgingly. Though he looped her arm through his, he was much gentler this time. And he couldn’t stop glancing between them and the fading smile on her face.

“My stepmother doesn’t care for me,” Joanna began bluntly. “She never wanted me to have a Season. It is her daughter by blood whom she loves—if someone could call that love. The only reason she gives me attention is to spurn me or scold me.”

Nicholas frowned in confusion. “Why would she be so cruel to you?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Nor was I suggesting that. You have a fierce spirit, and that should be given wings, not driven into the mud,” he told her. “Did your stepsister ever offer to help you?”

Shrugging, Joanna mumbled, “Yes and no. Somewhat. She has lived her whole life under that woman’s thumb. She knows her mother is unkind, but I don’t think she knows the whole of it––I don’t even know if she would believe anything I say.”

“I would. I do,” Nicholas asserted.

Joanna pulled a face. “Now I sound cruel. It is only that Madeline can be terribly quiet, so sometimes I am not entirely certain of where her heart stands. But she had offered me sympathy and comfort before, when no one else did. She still saw me…”

There was such pain in those last words that Nicholas found himself at a loss for words. He considered his life; it had not been perfect, but he had never been ignored or forgotten, let alone neglected or injured by his family. Imagining such a life was nearly impossible. He hated what his wife had gone through, and he wished to confront her parents immediately for harming her. The thought of a younger version of her left alone in the dark was enough to make him thirsty for justice.

But then her grip on his arm tightened, and he didn’t want to be anywhere except at her side.

“I’m very sorry,” he told her sincerely, “for everything that you have endured. You never deserved their neglect.”

Joanna offered a short nod before letting out a laugh that made him dizzy. “There is no need to pity me, Nicholas. I’m experiencing all of this today. How grand it has been. I almost feel as though I have been reborn.”

Though Nicholas would not forget the hurt and her attempt at distracting him, there was no denying that he felt the same way.