Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Here we are," Edmund's mother said as the carriage pulled up outside a large townhouse a short while later.

Edmund peered out of the compartment window, watching as fashionably dressed men and women made their way up the steps to the open doors, where liveried footmen stood at attention on either side, and burning torches marked the way inside. He glanced over at Johanna and smiled.

"It's certainly a grand-looking place, isn't it? One forgets just how busy London can be. I suppose it was the same in Europe—in the cities, I mean," he said.

Johanna nodded.

"To an extent, yes. But a lot of the cities on the Italian peninsula feel far more ancient—the Great Fire of London did so much to strip the capital of its past. What we see now is all Christopher Wren's doing," Johanna said, and Edmund nodded.

He liked the fact of her intelligence. They had such interesting conversations, and Johanna was not the sort of person simply to agree with what he said. If she did not, she would challenge it. Edmund found her a refreshing change from those women his mother had steered him toward in the past. She was passionate and unafraid of speaking her mind.

"Yes, you're absolutely right—it was such a tragedy. I'd have loved to have seen the old Saint Paul's," Edmund said.

His mother cleared her throat.

"Shall we go in? They'll be waiting for us," she said, and Edmund nodded.

He opened the compartment door and climbed out, offering his hand to his mother, who came next. But before he could do so for Johanna, she had already climbed down and was making her way up the steps and into the house. Edmund hurried after her, knowing it would not do for the two of them not to arrive together.

"Your name, sir," the steward in the hallway asked as Edmund caught up with Johanna.

"The Earl and Countess of Beaumont, and the dowager Countess of Beaumont," Edmund replied, as Johanna now stepped forward.

"I'll announce you, my lord," the steward said, but before he could do so, Johanna had entered the ballroom without them, and Edmund's mother hissed at him to stop her.

"They'll all be looking!" she exclaimed, even as the steward announced their names.

Edmund was standing in the doorway of the ballroom with his mother, but Johanna had already descended the steps and was greeting another woman with an embrace. All eyes were on them, and Edmund feared what they would be thinking. The haste of the marital announcement had been whispered about in the ton—he had heard the rumors at the club—and Edmund had hoped not to draw attention to themselves until the matter could be forgotten.

"I couldn't stop her, Mother," he replied, and his mother tutted.

"Perhaps she needs a little refinement, though I'm surprised her mother didn't teach her such things. I suppose she hasn't had a London Season yet. Never mind—make sure you dance together. This is your chance to be seen. Oh, look...the duke and duchess," Edmund's mother said, and now an elderly couple, both with gray hair, approached, smiling as they greeted them.

"Lady Beaumont, how nice to see you—and Lord Beaumont, you're most welcome. Did I hear your wife announced, too?" the duchess asked, and Edmund nodded.

"Yes...she's over there. She...saw an old friend, I believe," he said, for Johanna was still talking animatedly to a woman he did not recognize.

The duchess smiled.

"We're so glad you were able to make your debut here with us this evening. It's an honor to have you with us," she said, and Edmund forced a smile to his face.

"Yes...it's a great honor for us, too," he replied, hoping their debut would not end in a farce…

***

Johanna had not enjoyed making her entrance to the ball. She had wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible and had stepped forward before she was announced. But as she had done so—and realizing her mistake—she had caught sight of an old friend, Tabitha Howe. Tabitha's family had lived in the district of Wilton Grange when Tabitha was a child, and she and Johanna had played together as children. They had lost touch over the years—Tabitha's family having moved to London due to her father's work, but seeing her again after all these years had been a delight, and Johanna had hurried to greet her, quite forgetting her announcement by the steward and the need to create the right impression.

"It's so wonderful to see you again, Johanna—or should I say, "my lady?" I read about your marriage to the earl in the periodicals, but I didn't realize you'd be here tonight," Tabitha said.

She had grown into an attractive woman—tall and slender, with bright green eyes, her long blonde hair tied up in a bun. She was dressed in an elegant green gown with a matching shawl around her shoulders, and wearing emerald studded jewelry—a necklace, brooch, and earrings.

"And I'm so happy to see you, too. Did you know I've been away in Europe this past year?" Johanna asked.

Tabitha shook her head, furrowing her brow as though trying to make sense of the timings.

"But...weren't you courting? You didn't go together, did you?" she asked, lowering her voice as though the very thought of it was scandalous.

"No, we didn't. I went with my aunt. Edmund and I only met a month or so ago. It was a swift proposal," Johanna replied.

She had almost said romance, but had stopped short of doing so, knowing it had not been, even as others would assume as much. Tabitha nodded.

"Oh, I see...how extraordinary. I read about it in the periodicals, of course. But I didn't know the details," she said, and Johanna blushed.

It was extraordinary—a strange tale when told to someone without full knowledge of the events in question.

Why had Johanna married Edmund? It was a question she had pondered herself in the previous days since they had made their vows. Had she avoided a scandal by doing so? The ton was fickle, and while the gossip wheel might well have delighted in the story of an earl and a baron's daughter in flagrante on a carpet of bluebells—such stories would always be embellished with superfluous detail—they would soon find something more scandalous to discuss. Johanna had realized too late how the passing of time was also the passing of memory. What had once seemed the most important thing in all the world would, with the passing of time, disappear into forgotten memory. But a failed marriage…

"I know it was all rather quick," Johanna said, preempting what she believed Tabitha was about to say.

But Tabitha shook her head and placed her hand on Johanna's arm, leaning in to whisper to her.

"But he's terribly handsome, isn't he? I can entirely understand why you'd want to hurry the match. If it was me, I wouldn't want anyone else to get there before me," she said, and Johanna blushed.

"No...you're right. That's just what happened. We fell in love," she said as though it was the most natural thing in the world—which it would have been had it happened.

The musicians were tuning up their instruments, and it would soon be time for the first dance. Johanna looked around her for Edmund, and now she saw him talking to her brother in a far corner of the room. Johanna had forgotten Roger was in London, and she smiled at the sight of him, wondering what the two men were saying to one another…

***

"I won't deny I found it all rather sudden," Roger said, raising his glass to Edmund in a toast.

Edmund smiled. It had been sudden, but not so much as to raise too much suspicion. Most of the people he had talked to found it all very romantic—the chance meeting, the immediate proposal, the suggestion of love at first sight. That none of this had been the case did not really matter—appearances were everything to the ton, and it seemed this particular appearance had fooled everyone. But if Johanna continued to behave with the same streak of independence she had portrayed that evening, tongues would soon begin to wag, and questions would be asked.

"But you approve, don't you? You don't feel I've taken advantage of your sister, I hope," Edmund asked.

He respected Roger and trusted him as a friend. They shared a love of horses, and both were interested in the development of agricultural practices on their respective estates. Edmund knew Roger to be a man of principles and he did not want him to think ill of him in this matter, or any other. But to his relief, Roger shook his head.

"No, not at all. In fact...I'm grateful to you. As are my mother and father. We were worried about Johanna. Before she left for the continent, she was as timid as a mouse. We feared she'd never make a match. But from the letters she sent back, we began to have the impression she'd become...well, overconfident. It's not necessarily an attractive feature in a woman. Men don't like to feel threatened by the overbearingness of their wives. On her return, our fears were realized. As you know, my mother was going to bring her up to London for the Season in the hope of making a match, but we all feared she'd prove off-putting to the sort of men we'd want to introduce her to," Roger said.

Edmund nodded, though it was precisely her "over-confidence" he found appealing. Edmund did not want the sort of woman who would simply say yes to everything he said—the sort of woman who would not hold her own or argue her position. He had been impressed by Johanna's confidence, both in herself and her situation. She had already proved a formidable companion, and Edmund was only too glad to call her his wife for just this reason.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it? She can be as bold as she wishes. I admire her for the way she speaks her mind," he said, and Roger smiled.

"I wonder if you'll still be saying that in a few years' time," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Edmund had not thought about the next few years—or even the next few months. His proposal to Johanna had been spontaneous—perhaps even the result of the bump he had sustained to his head. It had seemed the only choice at the time, but the more he thought about it, the stranger the decision had seemed. He was married, and a marriage was not something that could easily be undone.

"And what of your own prospects?" Edmund asked, hastily changing the subject lest he find himself dwelling on what he hoped was not a terrible mistake.

Roger sighed.

"Well, I'm afraid we're not all lucky enough to be rescued from a horse riding accident by a pretty young woman—even if she is my sister. But your marrying has one advantage," he said, and Edmund looked at him questioningly.

"And what would that be?" he asked, not knowing what his friend meant.

Roger laughed.

"It means one less competitor in the field. I'm the mere son of a baron—how could I compete with the Earl of Beaumont. But joking aside, there's one woman I rather like—Lavinia Morton. Have you seen her? She's beautiful, and I've already marked her dance card for the second dance—her father always has the first one, apparently. She's over there," Roger said, pointing in the direction of a petite young woman with a pretty face framed by ringleted red hair standing with an older man by the refreshment table.

Edmund knew the woman, of course. The ton was a small world, and its inhabitants passed between one another's houses and attended shared functions, navigating the Season together.

"She's very pretty," Edmund said, and Roger smiled.

"I've asked her to dance—but I'm sure so has everyone else, too. But only one dance card matters to you, of course," he said, and Edmund smiled, glancing over to where Johanna was still talking to her friend.

"Yes...I hope it does to her, too," he said as much to himself as to Roger.