Page 19 of His Unexpected Duchess (Hearts of Whitmores #2)

CHAPTER 19

“ U ntil later, then,” Joanna called to Eleanor the morning after they visited the museum. She smiled sheepishly to herself, dropping her gaze to her eggs and toast.

She and her sister-in-law had talked nonstop about their trip to the museum. She still could hardly believe everything she’d seen. Mr. Grover had been kind enough to offer her a brochure containing helpful information as well. It sat neatly folded in her pocket.

How fascinating it was! I can hardly believe it. How Nicholas remembered and made this happen, I don’t know. But it shall go down as one of the happiest days of my life.

“Ah, it is a good morning, then.” Nicholas swept into the room, full of energy. He executed a short bow and gave her a wide smile before moving over to the sideboard. “I just passed Eleanor. Are the two of you still discussing mummies and jars?”

A short laugh escaped her lips, even though her cheeks flushed. “Perhaps.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but then she paused to take in her view.

Her husband must have just returned from his morning ride, as he was wearing his riding habit, and his hair was more mussed than usual. His black curls looked velvet-soft. She itched to run her fingers through them as he did just that, wishing to know how thick his hair was. Or so she told herself.

How can one man truly be so handsome? I hardly understand it. And to consider him mine… The thought nearly makes me faint.

Or, she supposed, as much as he could be hers.

Joanna found herself growing very confused in her marriage. At first, she had thought the man was an utter scoundrel who didn’t require her time, attention, or fawning. He had hardly asked for any of it. That had made matters much easier. After all, in the weeks following their wedding, he had seemed just as determined to avoid her.

But now, something seemed to have changed. While Joanna wasn’t confident that he had stopped flirting with other women, he did seem to carve out more time just to flirt with her.

Or rather, to spend more time with me. We enjoyed our visit to the museum, our jaunt to Bond Street, and even the break at the tea shop. He was nothing but lovely the entire time. How confusing it all is!

It only grew worse every time her heart pattered at the sight of his perfect build. His shoulders were a tad too wide for most gentlemen, but she liked that about him. His shoulders were too wide, his hair was too dark, his eyes were too bright, and his smile was too radiant. It was almost nauseating in the most wonderful way.

“Joanna?”

She blinked and hastily looked away, clearing her throat. “I beg your pardon. I was… woolgathering.”

Taking his seat across from her, he raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

Hoping the flush on her cheeks wasn’t noticeable, she nodded. “Of course, that is all. Why would there be anything else?”

“You weren’t distracted by something you saw?”

She glanced up at him to see an innocent expression on his face. It felt like mockery. No, a tease.

She hesitated and shook her head. “No, not at all. But you were right, I was talking with your sister about the Egyptian mummies. We can speak of nothing else, it seems.”

“Last night’s supper was unforgettable.” He’d let the two women carry on, imagining what it would have been like to live in such a different place and time. “I’m glad you have enjoyed yourself. I shall have to make sure we attend again when the exhibit is open to the public.”

“I would like that very much. Thank you, Nicholas.”

He shook his head. “It is all well and good, so long as it makes you smile.”

Touching her cheeks with a hand, she admitted, “I think I have smiled so much that my face has begun to ache.”

He tsked. “Then perhaps I should upset you to make you scowl. What of that?”

“I would rather you didn’t,” she admitted before she could stop herself. “It has been nice not to argue with you. That is…”

“No, I could not agree more. There is nothing I have enjoyed more of late than seeing you enjoy yourself.” He leaned forward, studying her curiously. She couldn’t help but lean back in mild embarrassment. “Happiness looks good on you, wife. If there is anything more I can do to keep a smile on your face, simply say the word.”

She shook her head. “I do not need to be spoiled.”

“You are a duchess. Why not?”

“Because…” she trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

Because they were not in love? Because this was not a love match? Because he didn’t need to be the one that made her smile daily?

She bit her lip and shook her head. “You are too much, Nicholas.”

A sly smile crossed his lips as he finished chewing his bacon. “I don’t know about that. I think you manage me quite well.”

“Oh, no one could manage you,” she found herself saying. “That is, I shouldn’t wish to.”

“No? Not even a little?” He leaned forward, studying her with those bright eyes. They were rather golden this morning.

She found herself gazing at him breathlessly, forgetting everything around them. Her heart pounded in her chest. She tried to think to no avail. The world seemed to slow down as she stared at him. There was a table between them, but that hardly meant a thing at the moment.

Then, they heard footsteps. “Your Grace?”

Joanna’s breath caught, and she hastily looked away. She glimpsed Nicholas’s frown as he turned to the footman.

“Charlie, good morning. What warrants this early interruption?”

“Lord Cornwood is here to see you.”

Nicholas let out a short huff of annoyance. “Of course it is Cornwood. The man cannot constrain business within the walls of Parliament. So be it. Show him to my study, and I’ll be there in a moment.”

Charlie murmured a response before bowing and taking his leave.

Joanna watched as Nicholas rose to his feet. He appeared put out, his lips pressed together and turned down at the corners. “Is something the matter, husband?”

He looked up at the last word. She could have sworn she saw something akin to happiness flicker in his eyes, but then he shook his head.

“Nothing is the matter, but thank you for your concern. I have little patience for Cornwood. He represents a past I would rather leave behind. Fear not, I will not give up.”

“Very good,” she mumbled as he bowed and took his leave.

Something about his words, the bitterness in them, lingered behind as Joanna picked at her food. She frowned and wondered what it could mean. What sort of past did he wish to escape? Just that of old traditions? Or his own past?

She pondered this the whole morning as she went to her study and sorted through her correspondence. There was a small letter from Madeline thanking her for agreeing to attend the ball in two weeks. With it was a small invite and a note from Beatrice.

Lady Lisabeth is hosting this marvelous garden party, and I insist that you join us. Do make sure you are presentable. – Lady Ely

The invitation was for this very afternoon. A late one, Joanna noted. She would not have received it if it were not for her stepmother’s meddling.

“But why does she want me there?” she asked the empty room.

For a second, she thought of simply sending her regrets. But she couldn’t disappoint Madeline. And if Beatrice was asking her for something like this, then Joanna thought it best to at least learn what the reason might be before declining.

Besides, it’s at Lady Lisabeth’s house. The woman never has anything kind to say to anyone’s face. If she does, it’s only because she plans to plant a knife in their back the moment they turn around. I shall have to be careful.

Joanna took the invitation and pinned a note to it, before asking a footman to deliver it to Nicholas when he was available. The invitation was meant for them both, but she didn’t intend to pull him away from serious business.

After Eleanor helped her dress for the party, she sent for a carriage and was soon on her way, her stomach fluttering madly.

Though she knew she needed to be careful from years of experience, there was another hopeful part of her that believed this invitation could be something else. To have her attending an affair before the ball had to be promising.

Perhaps this is a good sign. We never got along when I lived there, but perhaps my stepmother wishes to make amends. Just like Nicholas seems to be doing. He has been nothing but charming and courteous to me of late. If I always think ill of others, then I shall never see the good in them.

Her arrival only raised her hopes.

Beatrice was one of the first people nearby to usher her inside. “My darling daughter! Come greet me. How wonderful it is that you were able to join us. But where is your husband?”

“I am afraid he is busy,” Joanna explained, before pausing to greet Lady Lisabeth, whose sharp-eyed expression made her stomach twist. “He was caught up in several meetings today. We didn’t have the chance to discuss the party.”

Tutting, her stepmother shook her head before glancing around their large circle of women. Joanna only knew them by name, having rarely mingled with the ton until now.

“I wish you wouldn’t make up excuses, darling. It isn’t becoming of you.”

Her smile froze on her face. “I wasn’t––”

“Nonetheless, I must bring us back to our previous topic.” Beatrice was already redirecting her attention to everyone else. “I believe the London Tales was speaking about Lord Cornwood, not Lord Cunningsworth, when they mentioned that affair with the opera singer.”

“Lord Cornwood!” cried one woman, and two others gasped. “Can you imagine?”

And just like that, Joanna was forgotten. She carefully moved backward and looked around at her stepmother’s friends. From what she understood, many of them were considered matrons of Society. They were held in high esteem, and several of them decided who would be admitted to Almack’s.

She still didn’t have the permission to attend their dances.

Not that I would want to ever go there.

Forcing a smile, she awkwardly and quietly excused herself before moving to the next circle.

Several men were attending the garden party as well. They sat out on the terrace at round card tables. Half the party was inside, where the women could hide from the sun, and the men used the space to hide from the women.

Joanna caught sight of several lords waving to their wives to keep them from coming any closer.

High society, she concluded, felt more like a mockery of reality rather than anything useful, entertaining, or friendly. It left her tempted to take her leave.

Still, she couldn’t depart so soon. Besides, she wished to find her stepsister.

Madeline didn’t seem to be nearby. Walking around, Joanna found herself in another circle of women, all of whom were twice her age or older. She recognized one of the women vaguely from her wedding. The older woman, small and loud, reintroduced herself as Adrian’s aunt and Charlotte’s godmother.

“Call me Theodosia, dear. And allow me to introduce you to the rest of these old crones.” She laughed as two of her companions protested.

Joanna found herself welcomed into their fold at once. They all complimented her fine dress––one of the new dresses she had purchased and received the other day––and inquired after her husband. Everyone seemed to have a story about Nicholas, to her surprise.

“He asked me to dance,” Lady Eloise noted with a bubbly smile. “No one had dared to spin me around for twenty years! But he led me through the dance as if I was a lamb, smiling all the while.”

“If I was even ten years younger, I would have married him,” said another. “He flirted with me shamelessly when he attended his first Season. I’ll never forget it. I’ve never been more jealous of another woman, Your Grace. Well done on securing such a fine match. The two of you are well paired.”

Joanna blushed. “You are too kind.”

Tutting, Lady Theodosia wagged a finger, a gleam in her eyes. “Don’t ever say such a thing about us ladies, dear. We are naughty, and we all know it.” Everyone tittered. “But she is right—you two are a very fine match. What a shame it is to not see him here today. Did the honeymoon end so quickly?”

Joanna feared that her cheeks had turned tomato red by now. “I’m afraid our invitation arrived too late for him to rearrange his schedule. Nicholas is a very busy man.”

“Too late?” she heard a forced laugh behind her. “Never say such a ridiculous thing, my dear.”

Joanna turned to her stepmother, a hesitant smile on her lips. The woman wanted to show her off, she presumed. She hadn’t seen Madeline yet, and there had to be a reason as to why she was invited. But she saw her stepmother’s face and wondered if she had it all wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she started awkwardly but didn’t know how to continue.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at her. “I’m sure you are. But your apologies are in poor taste. Aren’t they all from the young?” She let out a delicate laugh.

The other women did not smile, however. They watched her curiously. It only forced Beatrice to turn her attention back to Joanna and purse her lips. “I wished for your presence here, daughter, along with that of your husband. I can hardly understand why you would wish to embarrass me so publicly.”

Joanna was confident that her cheeks were on fire now. The heat spread down her neck and chest. She tightened her grip on her glass as she opened her mouth to respond.

“I beg your pardon,” she gritted out, before making for the antechamber, where she might compose herself.

Or take a breath.

Somehow, even by not being around her stepmother, she had managed to aggravate and frustrate her. Joanna breathed hard and clasped a hand to her chest to try and quell the emotions churning inside her. The heat in her face and neck was slow to dissipate.

There was no one but bounteous cushioned seats, private screens, broad windows, and a few basins of hot and cold water for a woman to refresh herself. She touched nothing as she paced around in a circle, stewing over Beatrice’s slight.

“How humiliating!” she hissed to herself, pinching her nose. “I could have slapped her. I could have kicked her. I could have…”

Joanna took her time. She reasoned that no one there cared about her, that the women were about to start making bouquets with fresh flowers and would soon forget about her, so she could stay there as long as she liked. Minutes passed until she felt confident enough to look in the mirror, and she only glimpsed a faint blush on her cheeks.

She wanted to leave then, make her excuses to Lady Lisabeth, and promise herself never to speak to Beatrice again. That way, she could be free of the woman and move past the humiliation.

But when she stepped out, she forgot everything, as Nicholas stood there, with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Joanna.” He offered her his arm. “They told me you would be in there.”

She took his arm before she could find her voice. “But… what are you doing here?”

Nicholas leaned in. “I received your invitation,” he whispered in her ear. “I would have cut my meeting short to bring you here myself had you given me the opportunity. I don’t know what convinced you to come here alone, truth be told, but I hope you don’t mind that I have decided to join you.”

His words were kind, and he was once again dressed handsomely. Not half as wild as he had appeared that morning after his ride, truth be told, but well put together like a true gentleman, dressed in a stunning green waistcoat and fawn breeches.

“I… I think coming here was a mistake,” Joanna admitted after a moment, not sure how much she wanted to tell him about what had happened. It was too embarrassing. “I don’t know if there is a proper amount of attendees.”

“Is that all? Well, I am here, so we may stick out as sore thumbs together,” he reassured her. He didn’t see, or at least reference, the tension radiating from her. “Allow me to lead us to the party. I’ve already greeted our host and Lady Theodosia. The latter insists that we help her with her bouquet. Shall we?”

Joanna could only nod to give him what he wanted. Or rather, what he thought she wanted. “Yes, all right.”