Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

L ord Reeds was strumming with angry, anxious energy. He led the way to Johnathan's office, his steps long and hurried, the sound of his heels clipping in the hallway. Johnathan strolled leisurely behind him, keeping up easily despite the earl's attempts to move quickly.

He stalked into the office and sank into one of the armchairs in a huff. Johnathan didn't spare him a glance. He made his way over to the sideboard. "Would you like a drink, my lord?"

"A glass of whiskey would do fine," Lord Reeds grumbled, not one to turn away liquor.

Johnathan poured himself a glass as well, knowing he was going to need it to get through the conversation he was going to have. Granted, he'd been planning to speak with the earl before the day's end. He'd just hoped to do so on his terms, not when Lord Reeds was so obviously frustrated. It was bound to make what needed to be said to him far more difficult than it needed to be.

Johnathan handed the earl his drink and then claimed a seat on the sofa across from him. He draped an arm along the spine of the furniture crossed his legs and took a sip of the whiskey.

"It is a sipping spirit, my lord," Johnathan told him, watching as Lord Reeds downed nearly half the glass at once.

The earl grimaced. Johnathan couldn't tell if it was at the burn of the whiskey or at his comment. "I know very well the sort of spirit it is, Your Grace. Do not try to insult me."

"I would not dream of it, my lord."

His casual response clearly wasn't what Lord Reeds was looking for him. He seemed to be making a concerted effort to mask his scowl. "I need an answer, Your Grace. When do you intend to have the wedding?"

Johnathan gave himself a moment to decide how to respond. He could be direct, telling him that there would be no wedding between him and Caroline. Or he could beat around the bush, laying out subtle suggestions that may change the earl's mind before he even realized what was happening. Because Johnathan doubted either plan would work, he decided for a mixture of the two.

"Miss Caroline may have her wedding by the end of the season or next week, my lord. Whichever you deem fit."

Lord Reeds was clearly a more perceptive man than Johnathan gave him credit for, because he narrowed his eyes. " Her wedding? Do you seek to exclude yourself from this arrangement?"

Johnathan, again, paused to answer. He sipped his whiskey and decided it would be best to come straight out with it. "I intend to end my courtship with Miss Caroline."

"What?"

"It is not so dreadful a matter, my lord," Johnathan assured him. "I have my reasons, one of which is that Miss Caroline's affections clearly lay elsewhere."

"If I gave a damn about her affections, Your Grace, I would be having this conversation with her." Lord Reeds paused, frowning. "Do you mean to tell me that she has been compromised?"

"Certainly not, my lord, no!" Johnathan was honestly shocked the earl could have suggested such a thing. "She has been the very picture of ladylike perfection and you have every reason to be both proud of her with no concern for her future. I assure you, however, that Miss Caroline is in good hands. Rather than seeking a marriage with me, I think it may be best if she were to marry my brother instead."

Lord Reeds blinked at Johnathan, slowly. "Your brother?"

"It is a love match, my lord. Far be it from me to stand in the way of brother's happiness."

The earl seemed too shocked to respond. Johnathan sipped his whiskey and waited for the words to sink in.

He only laughed. The sound was harsh and mirthless, grating Johnathan's ears and bringing a slight grimace to his lips.

"A love match?" Lord Reeds said again. "Do you take me for a fool, Your Grace?"

"I do not, my lord. I take you for a man who respects his niece's decision and wants what is best for her."

"Which is the same thing as a fool! How dare you suggest that we break our agreement because you want to see your brother happy? Have you forgotten that Caroline had her pick of more distinguished and prestigious gentlemen before you?"

"My lord," Johnathan said in a low warning tone. "You forget yourself."

"No, it is you who forgets himself!" The earl shot to his feet, trembling in anger. "I shan't hand over such a hefty dowry to the brother of a duke who will give me nothing in return! If I were you, Your Grace, I would not forget the position I am in. You are nothing but a penniless duke. If I were to tell others of your position, what little legacy you have left to your name would be gone forever. Not to mention the scandal surrounding your father and how he passed."

Johnathan slowly rose to his feet. He set his whiskey down, not trusting himself not to throw it against the wall in his rage. He quelled it as best as he could, not trembling from the force of it the way the earl before him did. But he knew it shone in his eyes as he stepped forward.

"Threaten me again, my lord, and you shall live to regret it."

The rage in the earl's face banked, making way for a sliver of fear. But he quickly put it aside as if it never happened.

"Then do not give me a reason to threaten you, Your Grace," he growled. "You shall marry Caroline and that is that."

"With all due respect, Lord Reeds, I do not take orders from men like you. Remember your place."

The earl's face reddened in anger. He stood there for a few seconds, clearly trying to think of something else to say. But then he gave up and stepped away, taking brisk steps to the door as if he could not get out fast enough. Johnathan only watched him go, fury clogging his throat. He did not take kindly to being intimidated but he knew the earl was right. Johnathan had no power here. He was a penniless duke and the only reason he was able to show his face in society was because the circumstances surrounding his father's death were largely unknown. Everyone viewed him with pity and admiration that he could so quickly take up the mantle after his father's sad and untimely death. No one actually knew that his death had been caused by his father's own hands. If they did, if they found out that his father had taken his own life after racking up debt after debt, the blight on the dukedom would be irreparable.

He had considered it all when he thought about breaking the engagement with Caroline. But he'd hoped that Lord Reeds was a reasonable man, a man he could negotiate with. Marrying the brother of a duke was not the terrible option Lord Reeds made it seem like. Agnes had been more than willing to do so before she'd learned of his brother's affections, hadn't she?

Johnathan sank into the sofa, reaching for the whiskey. Agnes was going to be disappointed. Both in him and in the outcome of the discussion. A part of him didn't want to tell her. He wanted to fix this matter all on his own. But ever since she came to enlist his help, they'd worked like partners. As much as he didn't want to tell her about his failure, Johnathan knew that he had to.

He only hoped she took the earl's words with as much calmness as he had.

Agnes' first order of business was to get Caroline alone and demand to know what she wanted to talk to her about. She would have succeeded in her plan—or at least the commencement of it—had Caroline not disappeared almost as soon as they went inside the manor. Agnes had been so preoccupied with watching Johnathan trail after Lord Reeds that she hadn't noticed her slipping away.

The others disbursed to their chambers rather quickly, clearly as tired as Agnes felt so she decided to do the same. There was no use chasing after Caroline. She would come to Agnes when she was good and ready. Agnes would simply have to quell her unending curiosity until then. Perhaps a nap could be in order. Heaven knew after the day they'd had, it was quite overdue.

She all but dragged herself up the staircase, quickly looking forward to the moment she could collapse in her bed. Agnes didn't make it halfway there before she was approached by the dowager duchess, who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Agnes certainly hadn't seen her approaching. Though she supposed she was so tired that simply must not have noticed.

"Your Grace," Agnes greeted politely. She was unable to manage anything more than a simple dip and hoped it passed as a curtsy. "You were missed this morning."

"I can assure you that I was not," the dowager duchess responded. Her voice was far clearer than Agnes had ever heard it. Did that mean she was in better spirits? She certainly didn't look like it but the fact that she was roaming the hallways rather than locked up in her bedchamber must count for something.

Agnes let the uncomfortable quiet fall over them, unsure of how to proceed. At last, she asked, "Did you wish to speak with me, Your Grace?"

The dowager duchess nodded. The motion resembled the manner in which Johnathan did it as well, curt and simple, as if the answer to the question they were nodding to should have been obvious. It was such a subtle similarity and yet Agnes couldn't imagine how she hadn't noticed it sooner.

"Walk with me," the dowager duchess said, then set off without giving Agnes the chance to say anything to respond. She had no choice but to quickly take Her Grace's side.

The silence persisted. Agnes, not one to let uncomfortable silences bother her, couldn't help glancing anxiously at the dowager duchess. Finally, she let herself ask the question at the forefront of her mind. "What is on your mind, Your Grace?"

"My sons," she sighed softly.

That surprised Agnes. "I must imagine that is what it means to be a mother."

"It is. My sons are always on my mind, even when I pretend as if they are not. I worry about them as if they are still children and in need of my guidance."

"Sons and daughters are always in need of guidance," Agnes said softly. "Whether they be ten, twenty, or thirty years old."

The dowager duchess clasped her hands before her. They were strolling at such a painstakingly slow pace that Agnes felt like her joints were beginning to ache. She didn't dare voice a complaint, however. It was evident that the dowager duchess sought her out for something important, though she couldn't imagine why.

"Do you know what it is like to feel helpless, Miss Agnes?"

Agnes nodded. "In some ways, I do. As a lady, one cannot avoid such a feeling once or twice in their lifetimes, considering what a patriarchal society we have formed amongst ourselves."

To Agnes' surprise, the dowager duchess' lips twitched. "I did not ask the question expecting a philosophical response. Though I suppose it is my fault for not making my intention clearer."

"And what, Your Grace, is your intention? So that I may provide a more suitable response."

"It is only a precursor to what I truly wish to say. There is something weighing on my heart and I chose you to unburden it on. I hope you will forgive me."

She sounded genuinely apologetic. "There is no need to apologize, Your Grace. By all means, go ahead.

"My sons," the older woman began again. "They are the only reason I exist, my purpose. But once, it was to serve my entire family, including my husband. Have you heard what happened to him?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Agnes responded softly.

"The truth?" the dowager duchess probed.

Wordlessly, Agnes nodded.

A sad smile touched the dowager's lips. "I thought as much. I have watched you with Johnathan so I assumed it was only a matter of time before he revealed the truth to you."

"Does that upset you, Your Grace?"

"Not at all. The truth is a good thing. Hiding it will only do more harm than good."

Agnes couldn't say she agreed fully but she wasn't about to voice it aloud. Thankfully, the dowager duchess wasn't waiting for a response.

"It is why I must face my own truth. I have failed my sons just as my husband failed me. I am afraid that my inability to reconcile the man I knew with the man he became in his death has turned me into something of a recluse." She paused, then added, "I'm certain there is a far better word to describe my ailment but I am too ashamed to use anything but that. A recluse who has abandoned my family because my mind is weak."

"It is not your mind that is weak, Your Grace, but your heart that is filled with such overwhelming emotion that it may have felt crippling at times. I cannot blame you for it nor do I think anyone else does."

Agnes glanced at the dowager duchess just in time to see her lips twitch into something that might have been a smile, but it was gone half a second later.

"Are you speaking of Johnathan?" the dowager asked. "Do you mean to tell me that you do not think he blames me for who I have become?"

"Is that not the reason you have sought me out, Your Grace?" Agnes asked. She was a little uncertain, not knowing how best to proceed. She'd had very limited interactions with the dowager duchess, though she'd spent much time discreetly observing her whenever the dowager duchess deigned to grace them with her presence. From the start of the conversation, she'd been trying to understand why Her Grace would want to come to her. A stranger, no less. Would it not be better to speak such words to family than an outsider?

Her sudden closeness to Johnathan was the only thing Agnes could think of. She imagined that the dowager duchess might be feeling regret for her reclusion as of late and hadn't a clue how to approach her sons about it. Agnes couldn't blame her.

To her surprise, the dowager duchess bobbed her head again. "You are quite astute."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Father says it is one of my redeeming qualities."

"Of which you have many, I am sure. You will make your husband a lucky man when it is time."

Agnes frowned at that. Why did Her Grace say ‘your husband' as if she was not referring to Christopher?

"But to answer your question, yes," the dowager went on. "I cannot allow my mind to continuously slip away while life passes me by. My husband died that day and a part of me went with him. I owe it to Johnathan and Christopher to give them all of whatever I have left. I owe them an apology for being absent since their father died. But I do not know how to approach it. Which brings me to the real reason I wished to speak with you. Perhaps you could provide me with guidance."

"I cannot imagine what guidance I could provide, Your Grace, considering the fact that I have only known His Grace and Lord Christopher a short while."

The dowager duchess was shaking her head before Agnes could finish speaking. "I watched you during the pall mall game. You have known them a short while, but you've already come to know them well. Especially Johnathan."

Agnes stared ahead of her. She hoped the duchess wasn't looking because she could feel her betraying body heating up at the slight suggestion in her tone. Her cheeks felt far too warm for comfort.

"So tell me, Miss Agnes," Her Grace continued. "What should I say to him?"

Pity washed Agnes at the tinge of desperation in Her Grace's voice. She could only imagine how difficult this must be for her. After all, Agnes had only been at Claymore Castle a short while, arriving as a stranger, and she could feel the dowager duchess' absence every time they gathered together. She could only imagine how deeply Johnathan and Christopher felt it as their sons.

"Direct honesty may be the best course of action, Your Grace," she answered softly. "I repeat that I have not known them well, but I am positive that your sons love and respect you now as they did before the death of the late duke. I'm sure they will be more than happy to welcome you."

The dowager duchess heaved a great sigh that seemed to shake the walls. She paused in her maddeningly slow stroll, turning to face Agnes. To Agnes' surprise, she reached out to take Agnes' hand.

"Thank you, Miss Agnes." The dowager's eyes filled with tears, her grip light but firm. "You have given me the confidence to face my sons."

Agnes placed a hand over hers. "I only wish I could do more."

"I can tell that you mean that. Do not trouble yourself any longer with our family matters. It was rude of me to include you in the first place."

"By all means, Your Grace, I do not mind. I have grown rather fond of your family."

"Yes, I can tell." Despite the tear strolling down her cheek, the dowager duchess smiled softly. "Johnathan is quite fortunate."

Agnes reeled in surprise. "You mean, Christopher?"

"I know what I said." The dowager duchess squeezed Agnes' hand, then pulled away. "From what I have heard, you've had a rather long day. You should go on ahead. I do not wish to keep you for much longer."

Agnes nodded slowly, not knowing what to say. She should deny the implication the dowager duchess was making. At least until it was the right time to tell everyone that she had no intentions of marrying Christopher. But her tongue failed her as her mind filled with the traitorous thought of her walking down the aisle of a church with a bouquet in her hand. A smile on her face. Surrounded by her friends and family while the gentleman waiting at the altar…

Johnathan's face. Johnathan's smile. Johnathan's hand reaching out to take hers as they stood before a priest.

Johnathan's lips on hers to claim her as his wife.

It felt as if her entire body went up in flames. Agnes couldn't bring herself to speak, her mind racing and yet utterly still, focused on one thing alone. The dowager duchess smiled knowingly as if she'd had every intention of turning Agnes into such a mess. She patted Agnes' hand again and then turned to leave.

Agnes numbly turned the other way, heading towards her chambers. All she could think was one thing. Johnathan's hand. Johnathan's touch. Johnathan's kiss.

By the time she made it to her bedchamber, she'd strengthened her resolve. She couldn't keep this all in, not any longer.

She had to tell him how she felt.