Chapter 16

O n a Thursday morning in late June, Jo was resetting tables and chairs in the common room at the Siren's Call. In a few days' time, her mother would leave for Weston, and Jo would be fully in charge of the club. She didn't mind, for it was a temporary situation, just for this summer. They'd hired a bright and enthusiastic woman a fortnight ago, and so far, she showed promise as a future manager for when Jo's mother was not present.

That very woman came from the kitchen, a pencil stuck into the knot of light brown hair atop her head. Edith Henshawe was thirty years old and had worked as a governess, a teacher at a school for girls, acting headmistress at that school, and then decided she no longer wanted to work with children. She'd responded to Jo's mother's advertisement in the newspaper, eager to try something new. Though Jo's mother had been hesitant at first, Edith's references were excellent, and what she didn't possess in knowledge, she was keen to learn. She'd already proven herself to be clever and quick.

"Sorry to disturb you, Jo," she said, glancing at a ledger in her hand. "I'm preparing the list for the pantry and don't see that there are any potatoes. But that cannot be, can it?" She looked at Jo, her brows pitched into a V over her moss-green eyes. "We just purchased some the other day."

The cook did most of the shopping for the kitchen. "I do recall that. Perhaps the cook has stored them somewhere odd. Or someone put them away who does not know where they are typically kept. I would wager that's what happened." It would not be the first time.

Edith nodded. "I'll look more thoroughly." She smiled, then hastened back to the kitchen.

"She's doing very well," Jo's mother said, coming into the common room.

"I agree." Jo set the final chair at its rightful table and faced her mother. "You may travel to Weston in a few days without a care."

Jo's mother laughed. "I will always care, but I will not worry. I would not have even without Edith since you are here." She exhaled. "Are you still going to search for a small terrace to lease? I can't believe you are going to leave our household. You don't need to."

"I do if I wish to establish myself as a woman of independent means who hosts literary salons," Jo said shrewdly but with a smile.

"I understand. I will miss you." Her mother pulled a chair from one of the tables and sat. "I did wonder if I should not go to Weston. Not because of the club, but because I will miss you. And it seems you may need me just now." She sent Jo a searching look. Without words, she was conveying her concern about how Jo was managing since Sheff had left.

"I am no longer moping," Jo scoffed. She moved to join her mother at the table, taking the chair next to hers. "I want you to go. It's only for a couple of months."

"Or less if I hate it." Jo's mother wrinkled her nose. "I sincerely hope Sheff's mother won't be at their estate. I hadn't even realized they had one near Weston until you told me the other week. I would have told Marcel to find a different seaside village."

"I can't help thinking that is not just because of the way she's behaved during this betrothal scheme," Jo said tentatively. "It seems to me there is more to it—the uninteresting story you've never shared with me about how you know the duchess."

Her mother frowned at the table. "I don't know that I want to share it. Sometimes things are better left in the past."

"Except it isn't in the past since you both dislike each other. And the duchess's treatment of me goes beyond not liking me as her son's choice of wife. There is something…personal to it." Jo hadn't shared everything the duchess had said with her mother—especially not the woman's comments regarding Jo's parents.

"It is personal." Jo's mother's lip curled. She lifted her gaze to Jo's. "When I tell you this, please don't think poorly of your father. That is the reason I didn't want to share the history."

Jo's gut clenched. How did her father play into this? She feared she might already know. "Did he have an affair with her?"

"Yes. When I was expecting you. I was rather devastated, actually." She said that matter-of-factly, but Jo could imagine there had been plenty of emotions when it had happened.

"That was cold of him." Jo would always love her father, but learning this was upsetting, to say the least.

"He has always been a hedonist," her mother said with a shrug. "I was young and foolish. I thought he would give all that up when we wed because I believed he loved me. And he did. I think he still does. But, as he explained to me once, he was not meant to be monogamous."

Jo thought of her mother expecting a child and discovering her husband had been unfaithful. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Mama." Then she thought of the Duchess of Henlow and her stringent expectations. "I'm also shocked the duchess would do such a thing."

"She is no saint, regardless of what she'd have people believe. What's worse is I believe she might have had a child as a result of their liaison. She was gone from Society for months. It could just have been a coincidence, but she wasn't in London at all for the entire Season."

Considering what Jo knew of the duchess, she wondered why the woman would choose to miss an entire Season—unless she had to. "If true, that is worse." Jo wasn't sure she'd ever be able to speak to the woman again without wanting to throw her past mistakes in her face. How dare she say Jo's parents—particularly her mother—weren't good enough when she had betrayed her own family?

Jo counted back the years. Sheff would have been a small child when this happened, and Min would not yet have been born. Jo sucked in a breath. Was Min Jo's half sister?

"What?" her mother asked, blinking at Jo.

"I was just thinking of the timeline and wondering if Min is my half sister, but she's too young if the duchess was expecting while you were. Her child would be close to my age."

"If the child even lived," her mother said. "And she likely had it somewhere far outside London. The child could be anywhere."

Or it could be living under the woman's roof. Jo thought of Ellis's age—she was just a few months younger than Jo. What if she wasn't the duke's illegitimate child, but the duchess's? And what if she was Jo's half sister? Ellis's blonde hair was a bit like Jo's father's…

"I don't understand why the duchess wouldn't just have passed her child off as her husband's," Jo noted.

Her mother shrugged. "That is strange, but I don't think the duchess possesses a natural amount of reason. She seems ruled by her emotions, and appearances mean far too much to her. It may be that she couldn't even stand the thought of raising an illegitimate child, even if it came from her womb."

That certainly made sense considering how the duchess treated Ellis, as if she were anathema. Did Ellis know? "Does Papa know about this child?" Jo asked.

Her mother shook her head. "I never said anything to him, and he's never indicated awareness that the duchess was with child. Their liaison was short-lived."

Jo didn't want to voice her suspicions about Ellis. None of this was her business. Especially since she wasn't marrying Sheff.

But what if Ellis was her half sister? Wouldn't that be Jo's business? Rather, Jo's family ?

Her mother stood. "I've much to do today. I'm just glad you are not actually marrying Shefford. And I'm pleased to see you are recovered from your tendre." She gave Jo a warm smile, then departed the common room.

Jo organized the candles on the tables, replacing them as needed, then went upstairs to their lodgings. She was going to miss living here, but it was time she embraced her independence—and spinsterhood.

She only hoped that was what she would be—a spinster—because over the past few days she'd begun to worry she might end up in another category: unwed mother. Her courses were late, but they were not always the most reliable, so she was not going to worry yet.

She arrived on the landing that led to the entrance hall where she encountered Mrs. Rand. "I was just coming to fetch you," the housekeeper said. "You've a caller. Lady Minerva Halifax."

"You can just call her Min to me, if you like," Jo said. "She's a friend."

"I will try to remember that. It's odd that you would call someone like her friend, but I suppose she must be a decent sort if you like her."

"Not all nobles are stiff and condescending." Jo thought of the contrast between Min and her mother. They could not be more different. She would also compare them to Tamsin and Gwen, but neither of them had been born noble. Or had they? Both had viscounts for grandfathers. Or barons. Or something. In fact, if Jo remembered, she herself had a great-grandfather who was the younger brother of a viscount. Or a baron. Or something. She didn't know because it had never mattered. And it still didn't.

Nobility was a construct and had nothing to do with character. That was what mattered.

"Shall I bring tea?" Mrs. Rand asked.

"It's a bit early, I think. But thank you for offering." Jo made her way to the sitting room where Min stood at the window looking down at Coventry Street below.

"You're alone?" Jo asked. "Where's Ellis?"

Min turned from the window. Her expression was tight, and Jo could see there was something wrong. "I came with my maid, but she's waiting downstairs. Ellis was engrossed in a book. Also, I didn't tell Ellis why I wanted to come. I haven't told anyone yet, but I assume the gossip will spread imminently."

Jo gestured for Min to sit, then took a chair. She clasped her hands on her lap. "What gossip is this?" She braced herself, presuming it could be Sheff. Though, she hadn't expected him to make his move this soon. The Season was not quite over. There were still enough people in London to make a meal of the gossip.

"I received a letter from the housekeeper at the Grove. She writes to me monthly to tell me what's happening." Min shrugged. "We have a fond relationship. She says my father has been in residence, which is shocking on its own, along with Sheff. Did you know he was there?"

"Yes. He's written to me a couple of times." Jo had not yet written to him. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was the short, perfunctory nature of his letters. He wrote of the weather, his travels, the latest history he read concerning the fall of Rome. He had not mentioned his father at all.

Min pressed her lips together. "I know your marriage to him is a business arrangement, but I wonder if you may want to rethink that after you hear what I say."

Sheff had initiated the next phase of their scheme then. Perhaps he simply hadn't been able to control himself. He'd made it clear to her that he saw himself as a profligate. Apparently, he was right.

"What happened?" Jo asked. "Please don't prevaricate. I'm well aware of your brother's habits."

"Does your arrangement include him continuing to behave in that way? I should think he would at least try to curb his proclivities while you are betrothed and newlywed. You can't want to live with that kind of scandal. It's torture." She looked away, her jaw working.

"Because of your parents?" Jo asked softly.

Min nodded stiffly. "I would not wish a marriage like my parents have on anyone, even someone going into it with no romantic expectations. I wanted you to hear about what happened from me so that you are not surprised. There was a party at the Grove several days ago. It seems Sheff was with a pair of women."

"By ‘with,' I surmise you mean he was intimate with them?" Jo asked, disturbed to feel her chest constricting in an almost painful way.

"He appeared to be. The housekeeper said he was seen in the garden with them. They were draped over him. Then she said she saw a woman outside his bedchamber late that night." Min's eyes flashed with ire. "I'm so angry with him for behaving like that. I know you don't have romantic feelings for him, but I can't imagine you want to be married to someone like that."

Jo formulated a reason as to why she would marry him, but was there any reason for her to continue to mislead Min? She could not think of a single one, not when the end of their betrothal was now imminent.

Meeting her friend's gaze, Jo took a deep breath. "I hope you won't be terribly angry, but it's time I told you the full truth. I was never going to marry Sheff. He made me a proposal several weeks ago—that I pretend to be betrothed to him for the remainder of the Season."

Min gaped at her. "The entire betrothal was fake? With my grandmother's ring and an expensive ball?"

"Yes." Jo couldn't help cringing. She and Sheff had suffered doubts all along the way, but they'd kept on with it. And for what? All it had served to do was make them fall into a torrid mutual attraction that had resulted in a night Jo would never forget. Especially if she had a baby as a reminder.

No, she would not think about that. It was far too early for her to make that assumption. Indeed, she was currently cramping in her lower abdomen. Her courses were likely about to begin.

Min stood and stalked around the room, her hands moving wildly as she talked. "What could Sheff possibly have hoped to gain from doing this? He could at least have chosen someone our mother approved of. Then she wouldn't have directed her frustration on me and increased her efforts to see me wed." She put a hand on her hip and faced Jo. "Do you know how many dances and promenades I have had to suffer the last several weeks?"

"I'm so sorry." Jo hated that Min was upset, that she was hurt. "I value our friendship more than anything. I hated lying to you."

Min frowned, then threw her hands up in the air before reclaiming her seat in a huff. She glowered at Jo. "What could you possibly have benefited from this escapade?"

"Money," Jo replied frankly. "Sheff offered me a life-changing sum that will allow me to be independent. I didn't particularly want to take over the Siren's Call from my mother, and now I don't have to."

Min blinked. "Well. That is both frustrating as the sister of the man who paid someone to pretend to be his betrothed and wonderful as the friend of the woman who now has the freedom she deserves. But mostly, I am envious," she said quietly, looking down at her lap for a moment.

"Oh, Min, don't be. Things will work out for you. They must." Even if Jo had no idea how that would be. It wouldn't be as easy for Min to choose an independent life, if that was what she truly wanted. "At least you aren't being forced to wed."

"Not yet." She looked intently at Jo. "What will happen now?"

"The plan was for Sheff to do something away from London that would prompt gossip. Something that would make it easy—and smart—for me to cry off. He chose me instead of someone from Society because he believed I would be able to survive the scandal. Someone like you would be ruined."

" You may be ruined," Min said.

Jo shrugged. "In what way? I won't be invited to balls? Boo-hoo. People will give me the cut direct? They already do."

Min grimaced. "Do they?"

"Quite a few since the fake betrothal." Jo did not share how much it bothered her, not when she'd invited those reactions by daring to become engaged to marry the heir to a dukedom. And she would not moan to Min about it, not after keeping the truth from her. "I could use your help making it known that I will be crying off due to Sheff's behavior."

"I can do that." Min cast her eyes toward the ceiling. "My mother will be furious."

"Or not." Jo's social status notwithstanding, she was also the daughter of her former lover. But Jo wouldn't share that with Min, nor would she reveal her mother's inkling that the duchess may have borne an illegitimate child. "Your mother is likely relieved to be rid of me."

"True," Min replied. "When do you want me to tell her about you crying off?"

"The gossip isn't yet making the rounds here in town?" Jo asked. Min shook her head. "As soon as it does, I will begin telling people—mostly the patrons of the Siren's Call, as those are who I mainly see—that I am no longer betrothed. Then you can tell your mother." Jo brushed a hand along her cheek. "I'll find a time to tell everyone else—our friends, I mean—about the scheme."

"They will understand," Min said. "I do. Despite my initial anger, I really do." She laughed, surprising Jo. "Here, I thought I was delivering unpleasant news, but you've been expecting this."

Yes, but what Jo hadn't expected was how much it hurt. Apparently, she was not yet over her "tendre." She began to worry that it would take much longer than she thought.

Perhaps even forever. The thought of Sheff with another woman made her ache. It also made her angry—at him and at herself. She should not have expected anything different. Especially since this had been part of the plan all along.

Couldn't plans change? Jo had veered from taking over the Siren's Call. What if she also decided marriage wouldn't be terrible? Even her mother had endorsed the idea for the sake of having a child. But Jo didn't want to marry Sheff just because she was carrying— if she was carrying. She would marry him because she wanted to. Because she'd fallen in love with a man who made her laugh and feel special, a man who cared for others and wanted the same thing she did: the freedom to choose for himself.

Except she wasn't going to marry him. A change in the plan would have to be amenable to both of them, and he didn't want that.

"I'm glad you came," Jo said, hoping they would remain friends even after she struck out as an independent spinster, though she would understand if they could not. The hardest part would be staying friends with the sister of the man she loved.

S heff set the letter from Jo on the table in the library where he'd taken tea after riding along the beach. It was the first letter he'd received from her. And almost certainly the last.

He should have written to her about the party and the gossip that had spread, but he'd been too angry and upset. Because he hadn't been with any woman, let alone two. That hideous Mrs. Lawler—the very same woman who'd caught Bane and Miss Barclay in that compromising position nearly two years ago—had said she'd seen Sheff with two women in the garden.

It was precisely the kind of scandal that would ensure Jo was able to cry off with little damage to her own reputation. Except it wasn't true. Mrs. Lawler, that meddling busybody, had seen two women attempt to gain Sheff's attention. Apparently, she hadn't seen him rebuff them and return to the house.

Naturally, the gossip had reached London, and now his fake betrothal was over. In her letter, Jo had confirmed that she'd heard about his activities and had already made it known that they would not be marrying after all.

The plan had reached fruition, just as he'd intended.

Why, then, did he feel as though he had nothing to look forward to, that his life had just turned…gray?

The duke came into the library, his hair damp. He wasn't wearing a coat or cravat, but since it was just the two of them in residence, they'd both neglected to fully dress some days. Why bother?

"Did you receive a letter?" Sheff's father asked as he sat at the table and helped himself to a biscuit from the tea tray.

"From my betrothed. Rather, former betrothed."

The duke sat up straight, his eyes rounding. "She's cried off?"

"Do you blame her?"

"She heard the gossip, then," his father said with a grimace. "You must write to her and tell her it isn't true."

"It's too late." The hollow feeling in Sheff's chest spread to his belly and to his extremities. "She's already made it known."

"She can change her mind."

"She won't, nor should she. People will pity her if she marries me, and Jo doesn't deserve that." Just as she hadn't deserved people giving her the cut direct just because she'd had the gall to become betrothed to someone above her station.

"Nonsense. She'll be a countess. No one pities a countess."

Sheff glowered at his father. The man could not be that obtuse. Sheff chose not to argue with him.

"What else was in her letter? Or was that it?"

There'd been more, but Sheff wasn't going to share it. She'd written that she'd talked to her mother about not taking over the Siren's Call, and that they'd hired someone to become a manager, perhaps in the autumn when her mother returned from Weston. Jo had said she would be free to pursue her independent life, and she'd thanked him for making it possible.

He was so damned happy for her. And utterly despondent for himself.

"Her mother is in Weston," Sheff said almost absentmindedly as he sought to say something that wasn't about Jo.

"Is she? Do you want to pay her a visit? I could go with you."

Sheff made a face and stared at his father. "Why would I want to visit her? Even if I did, you could not come with me. She banned you from her club a second time after you took liberties with one of the employees."

"Yes, that." The duke pressed his lips together. "That won't be happening again. I've decided to take your advice and make some changes. I'll be returning to London soon, and I won't be seeking female companionship as I have in the past. Nor will I be drinking to excess. Indeed, I haven't had anything but ale the past several days and not much of that."

"What about your new companion?" Sheff had met her at the party. Mrs. Welbeck was a few years younger than his father's fifty-eight and had the most infectious laugh. Sheff had liked her.

"She's going to stay here for the summer, but then she'll be at her primary residence in Bath for the Season starting in October. I plan to visit her there. Then, she may come to London with me in the new year." He shrugged. "We'll see what happens. I'm trying not to look too far ahead."

"I'm glad you're at least planning for something past tonight." Sheff smiled at him, feeling genuine warmth and even pride. "I like her. She is quite jovial. I imagine you enjoy that."

"It is refreshing," the duke said with a chuckle. "Thank you for giving me the encouragement I needed. Now, it's my turn to do the same for you. Come back to London with me. Fight for Miss Harker."

Sheff shook his head firmly. "I can't do that."

His father frowned, and he narrowed his eyes at Sheff. "I've never known you to be a defeatist. You've certainly shouldered all the awful behavior I've made you a party to. I am dreadfully sorry, son."

Sheff had become used to hearing his father apologize nearly every day since he'd revealed the truth behind his horrible behavior. "I've forgiven you. You can really stop apologizing."

"Come to London with me. We'll find a way to convince Miss Harker that you love her, that the gossip was a terrible rumor started by an obnoxious busybody."

What would Jo do if Sheff showed up claiming to love her? Would she laugh in his face? Recoil in horror?

Sheff wiped a hand over his brow. "I can't do any of that because our betrothal wasn't real. The entire thing was a charade."

The duke blinked at him. "Why?"

"Because you and Mama wouldn't let me alone. I couldn't stand the constant badgering. And Mama said if I wed, you'd stop bothering her about it too." Sheff shot his father an apologetic look. "I wanted to protect her from you. But now I must wonder if you were even pestering her about me."

His father snorted. "I was not. I'm sorry she lied to manipulate you." He shook his head. "Why would Miss Harker agree to a fake betrothal?"

"Because I paid her." Sheff rested his elbows on the arms of his chair.

"I see. Well, that changes things somewhat. It does not, however, alter the way you feel about her. Did you always love her?"

Sheff wanted to deny it, but why should he bother? Wouldn't it feel good to share his emotions with one person, even if it wasn't Jo? "No. I chose her because we were friends and because I believed she would weather the dissolution of the betrothal, unlike someone from Society."

"You think Miss Harker won't be ruined by crying off, whereas someone from your own class would." The duke stared at him. "Are you daft?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Because to think Miss Harker would not be affected by your behavior is incredibly shortsighted of you. There will be plenty of people who won't wish to associate with her, and I don't believe she's entirely disengaged from Society. She is friends with Min and her set, is she not?"

"Yes, but they won't drop her."

His father sent him a dubious glance. "Your mother will most certainly try to insist that Min do so."

Dammit, Sheff hadn't thought of that. "Why are we all so bloody beholden to Mother? Especially after the way she's treated you? I think we should convince her to remove to Beacon Park." That was their country seat in Bedfordshire. "No, not convince her, demand she go. She can't continue to make all of us miserable."

"I will deal with your mother, all right? You must focus on winning Miss Harker. Is there no chance at all she might reciprocate your feelings?"

"I would be shocked if she did. She has less desire to wed than I did, if that is possible. She yearns for an independent life hosting literary salons."

"A countess can host literary salons," the duke said. "Indeed, a countess can do that far more easily and with greater flourish and impact than a spinster."

Sheff leveled his gaze on the duke. "You're suggesting I win her by promising a lifetime of literary salons?"

His father laughed. "If you think that will be enough, you are not the romantic I believe you to be." He stood. "I must be off to see Mrs. Welbeck." He smiled, then departed the library, leaving Sheff to frown at Jo's letter.

She didn't want to be a countess. He could hear her excitement in the words she'd written. She was looking for a small terrace house for herself—a place where she could lead the life she'd dreamed of. Without him.

He had to hope his love for her would fade. Not because he was certain it would, as he had been in the past. He needed it to fade because there was no hope for it.

He couldn't return to London with his father. It was already difficult to be around a man who was happily falling in love. And then to be in the same city as Jo? He'd have to see her probably, if only to retrieve his grandmother's ring. What about the Siren's Call? Could he never go there again?

No. At least, not until he was no longer in love with Jo. Why in the hell wasn't this emotion fleeting? It wasn't supposed to last. And it sure as hell wasn't supposed to cut through him like a knife. Or leave him feeling lost and full of despair. Wasn't love supposed to make you happy?