Chapter 27

27

In the dimlight of the early morning, Charlotte’s bedroom was a whirlwind of fabric and whispered urgency. Joanna stepped in, still in her nightgown, her hair undone, feeling exhausted and heavy from the sleepless night. While Charlotte’s eyes were rimmed with unshed tears, her movements were quick and erratic, her hands shaking as they grabbed at clothes and trinkets, stuffing them into her worn-out suitcase with a desperate precision. Every so often, she would cast a furtive glance towards the door, as if expecting an unwelcome visitor, and her gaze fell on Joanna.

Today was the day Charlotte had been invited to the royal residence to have a private audience with the prince. Had Spencer given Joanna the letters and the written testimony like he was supposed to, she could have already gone to her uncle and done something. But Joanna had nothing, and her chest ached for her sister. Day after day had passed, and there was no word from her aunt. With the duchess’s strict directive for Joanna to avoid visiting her, Joanna had no choice but to wait.

“Joanna, can I take your blue silk gown?” Charlotte asked as she returned to her task, her hands pausing momentarily over a pile of clothes. “It’s the nicest one, and I might need it. I can have it altered to fit my size.”

The request, so casually made, struck a chord in Joanna. That dress was her favorite, a rare indulgence she had allowed herself. Yet, Charlotte assumed it would be hers for the taking, as if Joanna’s preferences were mere afterthoughts.

Joanna opened her mouth to say something, but Gideon’s heavy and quick footsteps sounded on the stairs leading up, and in a moment, he appeared at the door, a little out of breath. “Joanna, have you seen my black gloves? I will be late for my appointment!”

“I have not seen your gloves,” said Joanna, even more irritated now. “I’m not a glove keeper.”

“I’m so late—” His gaze fell on the suitcase and the pile of clothes on Charlotte’s bed. “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

Charlotte straightened and met his eyes, her cheeks ablaze. Telling Gideon the truth was out of the question, both sisters agreed on that. “I’m going away to stay with the Hodgeses for a while,” she said.

“Oh?” he asked, frowning in confusion. “I haven’t heard anything from them.”

“They wrote to Charlotte yesterday,” offered Joanna. “Their governess was let go and our aunt urgently needs help with little Annie and the boys.”

“The Season is over anyway,” said Charlotte with what seemed like an indifferent shrug.

“But I should accompany you… You can’t go to York alone, unchaperoned.”

Charlotte pushed out a brave smile. “I can. Ladies do it all the time. Don’t worry, they’ll send a carriage to York.”

Gideon shook his head, his expression mistrustful. “When are you leaving? Joanna, I really must go now…my gloves!”

Charlotte turned away once again, her fingers sorting through the pile of clothes. “Today. This afternoon. Joanna, be a darling, can you please bring me your blue dress?”

Now she simply assumed Joanna was going to bring it to her?

Being their servant, knowing where the gloves were, giving away her best things for Charlotte, sewing her clothes and her costume for the masquerade…

And giving away her own virginity so that her sister would not be ruined.

The familiar ache of being overlooked, always the secondary character in the grand narrative of their family, gnawed at her. Resentment over always being in the background, her own needs and desires perpetually overshadowed, bubbled inside her. She had always been there, steadfast and unassuming, her own ambitions tucked away like forgotten keepsakes. But intertwined with that frustration was a deep, abiding love for her sister, a protective instinct that had always driven her to put Charlotte’s needs first.

A surge of emotions welled up within Joanna, a mix of frustration, love, and a newfound determination.

This was enough. She was done hiding herself so that Charlotte could shine, done being the silent supporter, putting everyone first but herself. Done shielding Gideon’s male ego with the information that she had contributed half of the income for two years now.

She had done the same with Spencer. Allowed him to involve her in that stupid bet, kept her concerns to herself, and fell in love with a man who’d never put her first. She should want to be number one, not just for someone else.

But for herself.

She took a deep breath. “Charlotte, Gideon, I need to tell you something,” Joanna began, her voice steadier than she felt.

Charlotte finally looked up, her expression shifting from distracted to curious. “What is it?”

Gideon frowned. “Yes, Joanna?”

Joanna hesitated, the secret she had guarded so closely suddenly feeling like a key to her own liberation.

“I’ve been writing,” she said, the words feeling foreign yet empowering as they left her lips. “For The London Gazetteer. Serialized fiction. But I’ve been using a male pen name. I’ve managed to cover half our expenses with it, and neither of you have noticed.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise. “You? Writing for a living?”

Gideon’s frown deepened, and he unfolded his arms from his chest. “I knew you were a good writer, sister… Why didn’t you tell us?”

Joanna shrugged, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “I suppose I didn’t think it mattered. I’ve always been in the background, haven’t I? My accomplishments, my desires, they’ve always seemed secondary to the needs of the family.”

Charlotte’s expression softened, a dawning realization crossing her features. “Joanna, I…I never meant to make you feel that way.”

Gideon shook his head. “Is this really how you felt?”

Joanna reached out, grasping her sister’s hand. “I have.”

“I’m sorry to have made you feel that way, Joanna,” Gideon said softly. “I’ve been preoccupied, but you’ve been here, supporting us all along… Thank you.”

Joanna freed her hand from Charlotte’s. “It’s time for me to step out of the shadows. I’m more than just a supportive sister. I have my own dreams, my own voice.”

The confession felt like shedding a skin, revealing a new, stronger self. Joanna straightened, her resolve firming. A sense of ease spread through her where there was tension before. How many years had she spent like this, fighting her natural instinct to be her own person, making herself smaller so that others could be bigger, so that others could be comfortable?

It was enough. She still loved her family, but it was time for her to shine alongside her gorgeous sister and her brilliant brother. It was time for her to be herself and not to make any excuses. She stood taller, her shoulders squared, as if the very act of speaking her truth was empowering her.

She wondered what would have happened if she had told Spencer before that she loved him. Would that have made a difference? Would he have still betrayed her? Left her compromised and unmarried? Used her?

If she’d been this strong in the beginning, she wouldn’t have let him.

“And as for the dress,” she continued, a newfound confidence in her voice, “I’d like to keep it. It’s my favorite, after all. In fact, I was planning to put it on today.”

Charlotte nodded, a mixture of respect and remorse in her eyes. “Of course, Joanna. I’m sorry I assumed.”

The moment was a turning point for Joanna, a realization that she deserved to be seen, to be heard. She was not just a character in the background of someone else’s story; she was the author of her own.

Joanna knew she couldn’t just sit there and wait. Even without the proof, she’d go to her uncle and maybe just her words would be enough to stop him, and then she’d get him proof once he asked for it.

“Don’t leave until I return, Charlotte,” said Joanna as she turned around to go into her bedroom and get ready. “I’m going to Neverton Place to see if our uncle would not help you with your journey after all.”

One hour later, Joanna stood in Ashton’s study, with a chill running up and down her skin like a fever. It was strange to see this room in the daylight, when roughly two weeks ago, she had her first ever kiss here, splayed under the gorgeous, hard body of a true scoundrel she managed to fall in love with.

Her uncle wasn’t himself. His hair was in disarray, and he was manically shifting the papers on his desk with shaking hands.

“Uncle, thank you for seeing me,” she said as she came deeper into the room. “I was hoping you wouldn’t refuse me… It’s about Charlotte and the indecent offer from the prince regent. Please, I came to beg you to stop this and to do the right thing by releasing Charlotte from this impending affair and giving me the deed of property for Gideon, the property that rightly belongs to my brother.”

Ashton looked up at her, his normally collected features in distress. “Charlotte? Gideon? Please leave. I have bigger problems than that.”

She strode to the desk, righteous anger burning in the pit of her stomach. She felt no remorse. She had given him a chance. She stood directly in front of the desk, and he looked up at her in confusion. “What is it?”

“Unfortunately, Uncle, you leave me no choice but to make everyone aware of what you have been doing.”

He straightened up, his expression turning vicious. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Treason,” she said, feeling like the world was shifting under her feet. Part of her wished she would hide somewhere and just avoid all this. “I know all about your operation with Pottinger Shipping Company and the house on Petticoat Street, and I know about your gun manufacturer in Springfield, Massachusetts.”

All remnants of social politeness fled, and his features now reminded her of a snake. Cold, unblinking eyes stared at her with pure malice, ready to strike. Fear like never before washed through Joanna’s body. He slowly put down the papers and came around the desk, approaching her. Unconsciously, she took several steps back.

She shouldn’t have come.

“And who do you think will believe you?” he asked, standing close.

He had an odd scent of sharp pepper, alcohol, and unwashed mouth.

It was too late to run now or change her mind. All she could do was try to win. And hope her bluff would work. “I have proof,” she said, raising her head. “You will not want me to use it.”

“You have nothing.”

“Set my sister free from the prince regent’s advances. Give me back Gideon’s inheritance. And you will not have to find out. I’m sure those things are nothing compared to your criminal activities. The thousands of people that die as a consequence of your actions.”

His eyes widened with realization. “You’re the female Lord Spencer Seaton has been dragging around. And it was you, at my masquerade ball? With him, in my study?” He pointed at his desk. “Right here.”

“No,” she denied, feeling like she was losing this battle. “I do not know what you speak of.”

With a murderous expression, he grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her out of the study and into the rich hallway where his footman hid a surprised and concerned look.

“Let me go!” she yelled, thrashing. “Let me go!”

“Henry,” he barked, “bring around the carriages right this minute! Have the men prepare to accompany me.”

“Very good, Your Grace!” the footman said and ran down the hall.

“You think I will just give you the deed?” Ashton hissed as he kept dragging her, and she pushed against him. “You think I care about your precious Charlotte? What the prince regent wants, the prince regent gets. Why do you think I need all this money I do not have? It’s for him! He must have pineapples. He must have coffee. Tea. Pearls from the Caribbean. Gold from the Americas. Silk from the Orient. Tigers. Elephants. Ostriches. Masquerade balls. Fireworks…”

They were now heading down the stairs, and Joanna tried to pry her uncle’s fingers from around her arm. “The best painters and a whole room that’s covered in his portraits! Huge banquets, rivers of champagne, wine and port that he and his guests drink daily… Do you realize how expensive it is to be his favorite, his confidant, his right hand? And to tolerate his jokes, every whim that must be satisfied right now or he loses interest in you!”

“Aunt!” Joanna cried when they were right before the entrance door. “Aunt! Help!”

The butler looked with surprise at the struggling Joanna and the duke. “Nothing to worry about, Goodridge,” said Ashton. “It’s just a silly game my niece is playing, and I need to discipline her. You know how naughty my nieces and nephew were while they lived here.”

The butler nodded with importance, approving of disciplining any naughty nieces and nephews. They went through the grand entrance doors and then down the grand stairs and towards the carriage that was already approaching.

Two additional carriages followed, each packed with men in navy uniforms. Four of them quickly disembarked and approached Ashton and Joanna. They pushed Joanna into the first carriage.

“Are you truly so afraid of one small woman that you must bring two carriages full of men with you, Uncle?” Joanna asked.

“I could kill you right now with my own hands,” Ashton replied, “but I must be wary of attack from those who resent my success at their expense…especially now that cursed Thorne Blackmore is the Seatons’ family.”

After shouting instructions to the coachman to drive to Tilbury, Ashton took his seat on the bench next to her.

“Uncle,” Joanna pleaded, her heart beating very fast. “You don’t have to do this! You can just stop and let me go.”

“No, niece, I cannot. I’m in too deep.” He sighed and rested his head in his hands as the carriage drove. “If I stop, all this would be for nothing. I’m so close to him giving me shares in the West Indies Trading Company—the richest and most powerful company in the world. Then I’ll finally be able to let go. So do you see how even small rumors of me committing high treason would be bad?”

Joanna looked out of the window, at London’s passing by houses. “Why are we going to Tilbury?”

“There’s a nice little dock that no one uses. No one will notice you’ve gone missing.”