Page 18 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“The greatest battles in life are fought with a burning passion within.”

—Joan of Arc

Two Days Later

JAMES SAT IN WHITE’S for the second evening in a row, drinking away…something. He didn’t reference it as sorrows, though some might.

Since the house party, and the incident, he wasn’t able to shake a sense of ennui. Dread. Gossip was already starting to spread, and James hated that he could do nothing to ease Joan’s pain. For surely she was experiencing a deluge of depressing emotions.

“What are you drinking?” Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

James held up his glass. “Open your eyes, and you’ll see that it’s whiskey.”

“Ooooh, the duke is snarling tonight,” Sam plunked himself down in the seat beside James while Chris took the other side of him.

“I’m not snarling,” James growled. See? Not snarling. He patted himself on the back. “What are you two doing here?”

“It’s our club, isn’t it?” Sam volleyed.

“Care for a game of piquet?” Chris asked while tapping a deck of cards.

“That’s the absolute last thing I feel like doing tonight,” he snarled. Damn it.

“Fine.” And James thought Chris was going to sit back and stay quiet. Like he usually did. But he didn’t. He sat on the edge of his seat and narrowed his gaze at James. Then he reached over and grabbed James's collar, pulling him forward so that they were eye to eye. “But if you think that for one second I’m going to sit back and let you destroy your life, you’re wrong. I will not be a passive participant in this asinine behavior.”

James struggled to free himself, but Chris held him tight. “What the devil is wrong with you, Chris?”

“Me?” Chris, the quiet one, threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “You’re an absolute idiot, James. And I’ll not let you sink to my—to this level. You love her.”

“Who?” At this point it was ridiculous to play dumb, but James did it anyway.

“Don’t.” Chris shook him. “Don’t mess up your whole sodding life, you bastard.”

“Whoa—” Sam cut in.

“I’m not finished.” Chris glared at him. “This ass of a man better step up and do something to win her back, or we are going to be nursing his wounded heart—no, his broken heart—for the rest of our lives.”

That shut Sam up. For a minute. Then he looked at James and clamped his large palm on his shoulder. “Chris is right, James. You need to do something. We’ve seen how you are with Joan.” James felt Sam’s grip tightening, as if to force the truth into his thick skin. “She’s the one for you.”

James felt as though he was floundering. He felt something for Joan. Not that he would call it love. No. Love still didn’t exist. But she had brought a warmth into his life. Holding her on the dance floor. Laying next to her. Feeling her skin on his. Kissing her. Coming with her. He wanted more. More of her and none of anyone else. And that…well, that was new.

But he couldn’t admit it. She had already rejected him. And he knew enough about rejection to appreciate that the earlier one accepted it and moved on, the better one was. Just as he had learned from his own parents. The ones who were supposed to love him the most. They had rejected him. In a despondent, numbing way. And it took eighteen years for him to accept it. Once he had accepted it, he could finally move on. To hell with them. He didn’t need them. He was his own man and always would be. He didn’t belong to anybody.

And now Joan had rejected him too. And it didn’t matter. She didn’t matter.

Except she did.

But he couldn’t admit that.

He had one last defense. It was ludicrous. He knew. But it was the only one he had, and he was clinging to it with every ounce of strength he had.

“I don’t even know if she has a mole in the shape of a moon on her bottom.” Yes. There. He said it. Was it absolutely ludicrous? More so than he could have imagined. But it was out in the universe now.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” He turned to Chris. “Has he had more to drink than we thought? Maybe we should sober him up and address this tomorrow. Not sure anything is getting through.”

Chris shook his head. “Wait. You’re telling me that the chit wants to name her daughter December?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “She’s not opposed. She said it has a nice ring to it.”

“And—”

“What—” Sam tried to interrupt, but Chris wasn’t having it. He shot a stern look to Sam.

“And” —he emphasized the word heavily— “And she kissed your eye?”

James shrugged again. “It was an accident. Her lips landed on my eye when I fell out of the boat.”

Chris was shooting daggers out of his eyes at James now. In fact, James was pretty sure he could see a twitch in Chris's eyebrow. And yes, that was a definite tick in his jaw. “So to recap, December is in and she kissed your eye, but” —he held up his hand, as if to brace himself against the air— “but because you don’t know if she has a moon mole you—”

“On her bottom,” James added. Not sure why he decided to clarify that.

“So because you don’t know if she has a moon mole on her bottom , you’re not going to go after her.”

All right. Hearing it back like that, James could really hear the idiocy. But he would not admit that now. He was too far in it.

“You’re out of your ruddy mind, James,” Sam spoke quietly.

But Chris, no, Chris did not speak quietly. He loosened his grip on James's shirt, and just when James thought his quiet friend was finally going to sit back quietly, he walloped him on the side of the head.

Glasses clinked and the din of the room ceased. Chris took no notice. Thankfully, Sam did. He jumped to his feet and laughingly announced, “Just lost a bet. Nothing to see here.”

With some skeptical looks, the crowds went back to their respective conversations, chalking the rude and callous gesture up to more of the men’s antics.

“Wake up, James. Go after the girl you love.”

“Love doesn’t exist—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare go down that road again thinking love doesn’t exist. Just stop and reconsider how to label that warmth you feel in your heart. Stop talking, James. You don’t even have to confess it to us, even though we are your oldest and dearest friends. But you do have to admit it to yourself. This is the last thing I’m going to say to you tonight, don’t be a sodding ass. Go get your damn woman.”

***

Two Days Later

THE SWEAT DRIPPED DOWN Joan’s back. She wiped her brow in her sleeve.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

She clanged her hammer against the fiery blade. It had been far too long since she had been alone in her place of peace.

The clanging sound, the suffocating heat, the power to mold…here was where she always used to find herself.

Another strike. Sparks flew. This was one of many commissioned blades she had received in the last two days, so while her marriage prospects looked dim, her future was not all dark.

This was what she wanted. Work. Rewarding work. Work that she could throw herself into and usually enjoy. Some of the commissions had special requests for names or words to be engraved in them. The one she was most looking forward to was the quote, “In chaos, there is opportunity.” It was a paraphrase from The Art of War, her favorite book. Though it was bittersweet to think on it, knowing James’s connection to the book, she still appreciated the sentiment.

Her life was in chaos. The gossip had spread. She had given up on the duke dare. But out of the darkness came opportunity.

Forwarded through Wes’s man of business, Joan had been receiving a number of commissions for blades. It wasn’t clear how they knew of her services, and she was quite sure none of them knew her identity, but that’s how she wanted it. She wanted to be behind the scenes, doing what she loved.

Clang!

The sound reverberated through her ears. What normally brought her a sense of purpose and accomplishment was decidedly lacking today.

She felt hollow. Perhaps more fitting, she felt like the knife, being struck over and over again. And she couldn’t help wondering what shape she was taking from all the blows life’s hammer walloped her with.

“Joan.” Her name echoed in the small room. When she looked up, she saw Mimi and Nobi standing in front of her, a look of concern in each of their eyes.

Mimi spoke first. “You’ve been in here for two days. Do you want to talk?”

Clang!

“No.”

Clang!

“Joan,” Nobi said softly. “Understandably, you’re under a significant amount of pressure. Please talk to us.”

Clang!

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She forced the words out. No part of her wanted to discuss everything that was going on. Her emotions were unfocused. Her impulses were out of control. She didn’t want to say something she would regret.

Clang!

“If you’re not going to talk to us, will you talk to James?” Mimi’s voice boomed over all the other sounds in the small space, and at the mention of James’s name, Joan stilled.

Was he here? God, he couldn’t see her like this. Her hair must be atrocious. She was sweating. The devil she would let him see her like this. But if he was here, what did that mean? Did she want him to be here? No. It was too painful to think about. Her heart cracked at the decision.

The hammering ceased, she placed the tool on the table. Her hands grasped the edges of her apron. “I don’t want to see him.”

“You don’t have to see him. Just read this. It’s from him.” Mimi extended her hand and held out a missive.

“I-I don’t think I’ll read it.” Joan couldn’t help the stutter in her words. It was all too much to think about him. She had spent the last two days driving out the images of his smirking face, deep resonating laugh, and strong arms with each strike of her hammer. Yet she still saw him clear as day. Dark ruffled hair. Deep ocean eyes. She could still feel his hands on her skin. His kisses on her neck. She wanted him desperately. If only he could want her, too. Love her.

Nobi stepped up, placing a gentle hand on her forearm. “Is it because you don’t want to or because you feel as though you can’t do it?”

“I just can’t do it.” Joan sat on the hard floor, and Mimi and Nobi plopped down with her.

“We’re here for you, Joan. We can read it together if you want,” Nobi’s gentle tones washed over her.

“Why is he writing to me?” her voice cracked. “Doesn’t he understand how difficult this is?”

“Why is it so difficult?” Nobi pressed.

“Isn’t it obvious? The gossip is cruel. It will fade. Of that, I’m sure. But for now, I must go through this darkness. I know I will reach the light. I know I will. It just doesn’t feel very bright right now.”

Nobi rubbed her back and patted her leg. “You are one of the strongest women I know, Joan. You can get through this.”

“I know I can. But then what?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Mimi spoke. “You’re getting more and more commissions. The more people see your blades, the more business you’ll secure. Your dreams are unfolding.”

“Not the way I want them to,” Joan choked out, feeling foolish. Childish. And ungrateful. But still, didn’t she have a right to complain temporarily?

“What’s not working out?” Nobi asked.

“I’m alone.” She shook her head. “Yes, you’re here. But one day you two will be gone. Married. You’ll have lives of your own. And I’ll be left alone.”

“You can live with us—”

“I know. Of course, you would offer that Nobi. Any of you three would take me in. But I would still feel alone.”

“We’ll find you someone,” Nobi said reassuringly. “It’ll just take time. I’m sure Wes knows someone. I can even…ask Chris. They’re both dukes. I’m sure they would help us find someone willing and suitable for you.”

“I don’t want just anyone,” she huffed. Her exasperation peaking, Joan pulled her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees.

“Why not?” Mimi asked.

“Because I love him.”

“James?” Nobi softly asked.

“Yes,” Joan heaved a sigh. This was the first time she was admitting it aloud. She loved him. He didn’t love her. They had no future. And because of that, her future looked bleak, despite having her business grow.

“You should really read his note then,” Mimi prompted.

Slowly Joan brought her head up. “What could he possibly say that would help in this situation?”

“That he loves you,” Mimi smirked. Her cavalier response caused Joan to scoff.

“He did not write that.”

“He might have,” Mimi elaborated. “Perhaps he wrote of his undying love for you and how he plans to whisk you away to elope and then cart you off to the continent for a months’ long honeymoon.”

“Doubtful.”

“Perhaps he’s writing to tell you that he loves you and has secured a special license to marry you anywhere and anytime you want. He’s just asking you to pick the time and place.”

“Mimi, please—”

“Perhaps he’s writing to tell you that he misses you and cannot live another day with you.”

“Mimi,” Joan ground out. “He hasn’t written any of those things.”

“You don’t know that. And you’ll never be sure unless you read his letter.” Trust Mimi to spell it out. First the fantasy. Then the reality.

“He might be your duke, Joan,” Nobi whispered beside her. “You could be the one that he finally fell for.”

It was too much to hope for. It was the impossible. People didn’t change. He was a rake and always would be. Joan wanted to toss the letter out. Better not to face being disappointed by him.

“We’ll leave you so you can read it on your own,” Nobi said quietly but firmly enough that Mimi took the hint.

It was respectful of them to let her have her privacy, so she could decide what to do. If the letter expressed his undying love, of course she would say yes to him. But that was not an imaginable reality. She had seen his eyes on the terrace. Protective? Yes. Caring? Yes. Loving? No. She couldn’t bear further disappointment.

Resolved, she threw the letter on the fire.