Page 3 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“Believe in yourself and all that you are. Know that there is something inside you that is greater than any obstacle.” –Joan of Arc

BOUDICCA LOOKED BEAUTIFUL AS she walked down the aisle. Full of strength. Full of life. Love. And hope. Joan had never seen her sister look more fully herself than when she walked forward into her destiny. It was a destiny that Joan had never thought possible, and she knew Bodi felt the same way. Did that knowledge give Joan hope? It should. It meant that love existed. Love was all around, if only a person was open to it.

It was marriage, but it was also so much more. Boudicca’s academy for girls was now part of her future. These were things that Boudicca had desired for so long, and now they were finally coming to fruition. All because she took a chance on love. Maybe more so because love first took multiple chances on her…but all the same. Love was giving Boudicca everything she had ever wanted. Joan was so happy for her sister and m aybe just a touch jealous. Not that she wanted Wes for herself in any way, but just…well, really…a future with someone you love and who loves you sounded rather nice.

The ceremony was taking place in Bellator Manor in the Practice Hall, with Boudicca walking down the piste toward Wes. Although the Practice Hall was hardly recognizable with all the adornments and flowers.

Seeing her sister carry her rapier alongside the bouquet made Joan smile.

But the moment that Boudicca handed that rapier to Wes…Joan couldn’t stop the tears. It seemed such a foolish thing to cry over. But it was the gesture and the sentimentbehind it. Boudicca wanted a partner in life. Someone who could challenge her, but also someone that could appreciate her strengths. Particularly when that strength overshadowed his own.

It was a rare man indeed who could appreciate a woman having an edge over him. And rarer still to find one that would celebrate that strength.

So often women had to hide their talents, their wisdom, their intellect. All because of the fragility of the male ego. If any one of the sisters had remained a spinster, Joan would have predicted Boudicca. She would never settle for anything less than perfect. Needless to say, Wes was perfect for her. He would be her partner in every way. Sharing the rapier was almost a gesture of equality in the partnership. Each of them had their strengths, and they celebrated that fact.

Being a witness to this great love was bittersweet. Joan couldn’t help thinking how profound yet how uncommon such relationships were. It was exceptional, in every definition of the word. Leaving Joan feeling anything but exceptional. She was confident in who she was, but she also knew that she was often under the shadow of blonde beauties like Bodi and Mimi. Whose attention might she catch? She couldn’t imagine.

To think of who Joan might pursue as part of the duke dare they had all agreed to, made her stomach flip over. It might have even rolled out a few somersaults for the amount of queasiness she was experiencing.

But she shoved those thoughts and feelings down for now. For as long as she could. Well, at least for the ceremony. This was supposed to be a sacred moment.

And it was. The vows that were shared between the two brought a fresh wave of tears to the sisters, and by the end of the ceremony, their handkerchiefs were saturated. Thankfully, the reception would not provoke any teary responses. The dinner and toasts were done, and a dance was underway.

Taking a short break, Joan stood with her sisters Mimi and Nobi watching the dancers.

“I can’t believe she’s married,” Nobi said in awe.

“If I hadn’t witnessed the ceremony I might not believe it myself,” Joan eyed the couples twirling about on the floor.

“I knew it would happen.” Mimi gave them a sideways smirk.

“Is that so?” Joan asked.

“It’s always the most resistant who fall first.”

“You,” —Joan placed a heavy emphasis on this first word in case Mimi wasn’t paying attention and then for good measure repeated the word— “you think Boudicca is the most resistant of us four?”

Joan watched from the corner of her eye as Nobi stifled a chuckle.

Without hesitation, Mimi retorted, “Of course she is. Who do you think it is?”

When Joan caught Mimi’s eye,both her and Nobi announced at the same time, “You.”

Mimi just waved her hand in dismissal, as if that small flick of the wrist could disabuse them of such a long held notion. And really, it wasn’t just that it was long held, it was rightly held. Artemisia was the hellion of the four. Point in case, one: she was the one who suggested the dare. Point in case, two: she never held back vocalizing her opinion. Point in case, three: her opinions were often in opposition to those around her. Point in case, now: her being resistant to the idea that she is the most resistant.

“You don’t see yourself as being resistant?” Nobi asked gently.

“No.”

“Not even say…right now?”

“Pfft…this is not me being resistant. Not really. At least not the kind of resistant I’m talking about. I’m open to love. I’d argue that I’m the most open to love out of all of us.”

Well, really, Joan didn’t have a rebuttal for that one. Boudicca had been a closed door, inside of a vault, under a rock. Nobi was like a timid child afraid to ask for what they wanted. And Joan…she wasn’t sure how to describe her heart’s openness to love. She supposed…she was open… enough. But perhaps she needed to know more about this openness that Mimi spoke of.

“How are you open to love?” Joan humbled herself to ask her little sister for advice.

“I’m so glad you asked, Joan.” Mimi’s eyes twinkled. “Everywhere I look I see the opportunity for love. The possibility for love, marriage, a future…it’s all around us. Any one of these gentlemen could be yours.”

Joan could almost hear the words as if they were coming from a hawker on the street. Someone selling a tincture that could heal gout, relieve a fever, erase all a person’s debts, and make one fall in love.

If one simply bought it. And drank it.

Her skepticism must have been showing.

“You may laugh at me. On the inside. But I can assure you. Gentlemen are just as willing to fall in love as women are. They just don’t know it. And if perchance they do, they will definitely not admit it. There’s nothing so debasing to a man as sharing his feelings, especially pertaining to love.”

“What about poetry and all the men who write it?” Joan challenged, just to amuse herself.

“Pseudonyms.” Mimi didn’t even blink, which caused Joan and Nobi to chuckle behind their fans. “It’s really written by women.”

Mimi swept her arm out to showcase the dancers, “Now tell me what you see.”

“Dancing,” the two said together.

Mimi rolled her eyes. “Let me tell you what I see. I see love taking aim. A man approaches a woman. Curious. Obliged. Or otherwise. And love is watching. Waiting. She’ll take aim and if she has a good shot, she’ll let her arrow fly.”

“Ah, I see where this is coming from now,” Joan sighed. “You are the archer. Perhaps you relate to cupid more than I would have predicted.”

“Perhaps,” Mimi volunteered noncommittally as her eyes surveyed the room. “Look over there. See those two men.”

“Don’t point, Mimi,” Nobi said.

“Just follow the line of my fan. Better yet, look for James. See who he’s standing with?” When Joan nodded with Nobi, Mimi continued, “That’s Lord Jacob Fenway.” The two nodded again waiting for further explanation on Mimi’s tangent.

“He’s pining over our dear friend, Lady Sally Prohope. But, as we all know, Jacob is too shy to approach Sally on his own. Ahh…what tragedy, that two people so close to love might not find it. See how Jacob has enlisted James to help him? At least he has that much sense. Now the question is…who will go help Sally say yes to love?”

“How do you know Sally wants to find love?” Joan regretted the question immediately after she asked it. Surely Mimi would whip around and a long rant on love for everyone would ensue. Surprisingly, Mimi maintained her vigilant scanning of the ballroom. When she spoke, it was calm, albeit a touch patronizing.

“There are two universal truths to humankind. We all want to be loved. We all want to belong. Mark my words, Sally is looking for love. And if neither of you are willing to help her, then I’ll—”

“No, no, no. I’ll go help her.” Joan volunteered before Mimi could finish her threat. Because really, it was a threat. If Mimi, in all her assertiveness (one might call it), went over to assist the soft, timid, fragile Sally, who knows what kind of love she might find herself in?

Mim practically pushed Joan in her direction. “Go on then.”

“You do realize you’re the youngest, don’t you?”

“Argh, such is my cross to bear. But bear it, I shall. Now go.”

“I’m going,” Joan insisted.

“Good luck,” Nobi whispered in parting.

“Pfft…luck. She won’t need any luck.” But Joan didn’t stand around and ask what Mimi meant by that. She took a few brisk strides and found herself at Sally’s side.

When Joan stopped, she almost said, Sally, I’m so glad you could make this event. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. But then the conversation she just had with her sisters floated through her mind. If Sally wanted to be loved and was actively looking for love, perhaps she could attempt a more coy greeting. They were close friends after all.

So instead of the casual bland greeting she would usually use, she asked, “Do you see him watching you?”

Sally started.

And for a split second Joan thought she asked the most addlepated question of her existence. But then…as Joan watched Sally’s face, she saw a timid half smile tempt her lips. And if that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, her cheeks flushed. When Sally brought her fan to her face and fluttered it a couple of times, Joan knew that she had hit her target.

And when Sally uttered a breathless, “Yes,” well, then Joan knew a few more things. Sally noticed Jacob watching her. Sally enjoyed that fact. Jacob, with enough courage from James (the rake!) would approach and ask for a dance. And Joan would be there to support Sally in saying yes. It was all so simple.

Joan’s heart almost clapped in joy. Love could be a beautiful, simple thing. It could just be one (or two, if one insisted on counting James) person helping a friend find courage to love.

Love didn’t have to be complicated. It didn’t have to be entwined, wrapped up, coated in layers and tied with a dare. Daring a duke had nothing to do with love for Sally and Jacob. Shy Sally. Always with a softly spoken word. A gentle soul. Pure and innocent. She was in love with the boy who was too shy to ask. But once he did ask, Joan knew that the floodgates of love would open. Or perhaps, to stick with the metaphor from Mimi, love would take aim and shoot her arrow (yes, cupid is female here because, well…Mimi).

It was simple. Innocent. This moment of helping her friend was already opening Joan’s eyes to love. Perhaps her heart would follow.