Chapter 21

CHAPTER21

The gown, freshly delivered from the seamstress with an escort of Golding and the footman—to make certain it arrived as it had left the seamstress—was the most precious garment Joanna had ever possessed. A masterpiece of brushed, mustard-yellow silk, painstakingly adorned with black lace and gold-dipped seed pearls that shone with an ethereal luster whenever she turned.

The tight bodice of the original had been layered over with material cut from the once-extensive, bustled skirts, to make the silhouette more aligned with the fashions of the day. The skirts themselves had been slimmed, though Joanna had insisted on retaining some of the volume, no matter how unfashionable. To her, it was the very epitome of sartorial beauty, the long train brushing the floor in a most satisfying manner. The sleeves were tight to the elbow, where they cascaded into lace-trimmed layers, and the neckline scooped rather lower than was considered appropriate, but as a married woman, wearing the gown of her mother-in-law, Joanna did not care if anyone gasped in outrage.

Descending the stairs to meet Edwin, who had gone to summon the carriage, nerves jittered in Joanna’s chest. It might also have had something to do with the tight bodice beneath the new silhouette, but she found she could not breathe with the anticipation of seeing his face.

Do not let me disappoint him, she urged. Do not let him be upset by the changes I have made. Though, in her opinion, she had been very sympathetic to the original gown. Indeed, she wished she could have worn it as it was, but aside from a costume ball, it was impossible.

She heard his gasp before she saw him, followed by three more gasps from Mrs. Hislop, Peggy and Jane, who were all waiting in the entrance hall.

Yet it was only Edwin’s expression that Joanna fixed upon, as she made her slow way toward him. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, his hand coming to rest upon his heart as he watched her. For a moment, he bit his lip, as if he might cry, but the moment passed quickly.

“You look…” Edwin faltered. “You look… equipped for a ball.”

Peggy smacked him so hard on the back that he stumbled a half-step. “She looks beautiful, you great oaf! Surely, you have that word in your vocabulary somewhere?” She swept forward, embracing Joanna, though it was Edwin’s arms that Joanna had hoped for. “My goodness, you are utterly regal, Joanna! If I did not know you, I would think you were a Spanish queen, coming to mend ties with the English monarchy. That color becomes you so very well, particularly with that glorious dark hair of yours.”

“It is exquisite!” Jane crowed, clasping her hands together in delight. “I do not believe I have seen anything quite like it. Why, you shall be the only thing anyone can talk of! And that perfume—my goodness, what is it?”

Joanna blushed. “A personal concoction. Is it not too strong?”

She cast Edwin a discreet look, but either he had not heard, or he could not answer, for he continued to stare at her, open-mouthed as if she was the most enchanting creature he had ever set eyes upon. For once, to Joanna’s pleasure, it appeared he could not hide his feelings.

“Too strong?” Jane scoffed. “Why, I could bathe in it!”

Joanna did not know how she would be received by the guests gathered at Lord Rotherham’s ball, but if it was anything like the response of Peggy, Jane, Mrs. Hislop, and Edwin, she would not be the embarrassment her father had feared she would be. Indeed, she hoped she might actually be useful in improving the public opinion of her husband.

If only you would tell your story, she thought sadly. A gentler version of it, at least. Of course, he could never tell a soul that he had been responsible for his father’s death, but it wounded Joanna to think that society might always think of him as a murderous monster. The very opposite of the truth.

“You are… lovely,” Mrs. Hislop said, her voice catching as she moved in to embrace Joanna. “My goodness, you would have made her heart sing if she could see you.”

Over Mrs. Hislop’s shoulder, Joanna glanced up at the portrait that watched over the entrance hall. “I think she sees me, Mrs. Hislop, and I do believe she is smiling.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Hislop whispered, holding Joanna tighter.

“For what?”

Mrs. Hislop swallowed a sob. “For bringing life back to this house. For giving us all purpose once more, and for reminding us that beauty and joy can bloom, even in the most desolate soil.” She drew in a breath. “You are that poppy that you gave water to, with your own bare hands.”

“Cease, Mrs. Hislop, or I shall surely cry and ruin the appearance that the maids and I have spent hours perfecting,” Joanna urged, with a clotted chuckle.

At that exact moment, three bursts of excitement and cheers of encouragement coursed down the stairwell, coming from the very maids who had tended to Joanna all morning. In truth, it was somewhat peculiar to be fully attired and presented for a ball at one o’clock in the afternoon, but the journey to Lord Rotherham’s would take hours, and Edwin had insisted upon them venturing there and returning in the same twenty-four hours.

He does not think it will be a success, Joanna understood, though she planned to prove him wrong.

“My darlings, you are all blessed with a magic touch!” Joanna blew kisses to the maids, who pretended to swoon, cackling raucously. Three young ladies who had fast become her friends, despite the difference in station.

Edwin cleared his throat, recovering his stern mask. “Yes, well, we shall need more than magic if we are to reach Lord Rotherham’s by early evening. So, let us depart without further delay.”

At the beginning of their short marriage, he might have marched off to the carriages without waiting for his wife. But, to Joanna’s delight, he stuck out his arm expectantly, looking off toward the unusual landscape he had painted that depicted an eerie Bruxton Hall as if viewed through a storm of purple and black rain.

Joanna took his proffered arm, refusing to hide her victorious smile. “You shall have to smooth away any creases when we arrive,” she told him, walking out of her marital home at his side, feeling more unified than ever. “Especially as we will be sitting for a long while.”

He coughed, banging on his chest. “Perhaps, Mrs. Hislop ought to accompany us, to tend to that.”

“She cannot. It must be you,” Joanna teased.

He shook his head. “You shall have to borrow Jane, then.”

“Very well.” Joanna feigned a sigh, leaning into her husband as they walked the rest of the way to the carriage and climbed inside. Jane and Peggy had their own carriage, meaning that, for as long as the journey took, Joanna and Edwin would be entirely, thrillingly alone.

* * *

What Joanna had not accounted for was the fatigue that would sweep through her once the carriage began to sway as it trundled along never-ending country roads. She had barely slept the night before, between hastily altering the new gown, fretting that it would not be ready in time or would be monstrous, and waking at dawn to take her heady bath, rich with potent oils. As such, it was not long after they had departed Bruxton Hall that she fell asleep.

When she stirred, with no notion of how long she had been resting, she was surprised to find a blanket covering her and Edwin’s folded greatcoat beneath her head as a pillow.

“Goodness, what terrible company I must be, falling asleep like that,” she said, stretching as she sat up on the squabs. “I do hope I did not snore. My sister always claimed I snore like a bulldog with a cold, but I like to think she was only teasing.”

She wiped her mouth discreetly, grateful to find she had not dribbled in her sleep, though she was rather anxious that her sister had not been lying. After all, she suspected it would be more difficult to urge Edwin to join her in her bedchamber if she snored.

Edwin jumped, apparently startled by her awakening. “Did you rest well?”

“You are avoiding the question,” she pressed.

He covered his mouth with his hand and turned his face away, but through his splayed fingers, she could have sworn she saw a smile. A real smile. “You did not snore, Joanna. But, as we have promised to be brutally honest, you did say some things.”

“What things?” Joanna’s eyes widened, for she had dreamed of him, and not a particularly innocent dream, either.

He glanced at her and let his hand fall, revealing that smile in all of its glory. “I believe it was, ‘Husband, you should not wander the gardens in naught but your trousers. The maids will faint.’ That might not be verbatim, but close enough.”

Joanna was almost too shocked by the sight of his smile to realize what he had said. It was like witnessing the effects of a magical spell, woven upon his handsome face, transforming it into something that went beyond masculine beauty. In truth, it was as if a divine hand had taken a sliver of sunlight and placed it within him, making him glow: his eyes so bright they dazzled her, his face so handsome she could have wept, his teeth so white and perfect, every part of him radiating a warmth she had not known he possessed.

“I should not have said that” he murmured, his smile vanishing, “I have embarrassed you.”

She blinked, reaching for his hand, desperate to see his smile return. “You smiled,” she said, breathless. “I saw it. I saw you smile! My goodness, Edwin, I have longed for that moment.”

“Pardon?” He looked so earnest in his confusion that she could not help but laugh.

“I thought you were incapable of smiling, but I saw it! The most rare and wondrous thing in the world!” she enthused, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it. “My dear husband, what a continual, exciting mystery you have turned out to be.”

He stared down at her lips, still pressed to his skin. “I smile on occasion.”

“You do not!” she protested. “I have said at least twelve amusing things during our brief marriage, and there has not been so much as a snort or a wry grin.”

His mouth curved into a smaller, but no less glorious smile. “You have said more than twelve amusing things, Joanna. The ladies of the household seem to think so, anyway, though I suspect they are an easier audience.”

“You have been the most difficult audience of my life! Why, I have even begun to wonder if I have any wit at all when I am around you,” Joanna replied, her heart full. “But there it is, a gift far greater than this gown—your smile. So, I suppose I can confess that I made a wager with myself, that I would get you to smile before the week ended.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you manage it?”

“Just.”

“What do you owe yourself?” His smile remained, and she could have bathed in it.

“A pat on the back. I rarely wager with coin if I do not believe I can win.”

He nodded. “Very wise.” But, to her dismay, his smile faded again. “I am sorry it was not the gown you had chosen for yourself. I did what I could. Of course, I know you were only being polite in accepting it. Desperate too, perhaps. But I think it looks rather… beautiful.”

“I was not being polite,” she argued. “We promised to be honest, and while I would not have told you outright that I did not like it, if I did not, I would have said something akin to, “you did not have to do that” or “I could not possibly take it; I must insist on wearing one of my own gowns.” I love it, Edwin. Truly, I do, and it is all the more precious because of the lady it once belonged to. Indeed, I am sorry that it had to be altered at all!”

Edwin dropped his gaze, apparently unconvinced. “Your original gown would not have been destroyed at all if it were not for me,” he said quietly. “I know the modiste protested innocence, but your father made the mistake of putting my name on the order. It is no coincidence, Joanna. I do not believe in them. I am more hated than perhaps you realize, and now you are bound to me.”

“Is that why you urged me to live my life apart from you?” she had suspected as much, but she had never heard him say so.

His throat bobbed, his brow furrowing. “It is not too late for you to do so,” he replied in a husky voice. “You do not need to suffer because of me. I think I would… have to adjust to your absence, but I would prefer it if you were happy.”

“I am becoming happy,” she told him, realizing that if she was to bridge the divide between them, she was going to have to take the leap herself. “And I would miss you too, if I we were separated.”

His eyes widened. “I did not say I—”

She tugged hard on his hands, the surprise rocking him forward, almost off the edge of the opposite squabs. At the same moment, she bent forward to meet him in the middle, hoping their lips met and they did not butt heads instead.

As fortune would have it, her lips pressed to his… but with far more force than she had intended, his mouth crushing against hers. Her heart leaped as his hands wrenched out of hers and caught hold of her shoulders to steady her, his lips pillow soft as they pressed a second, gentler kiss to hers.

She braced for him to pull away or scold her or halt the carriage to make her ride with the other two ladies, but no pause or reprimand came. Instead, he smoothed his palms across the shelf of her shoulders and up the sides of her neck, cradling her throat as his kiss deepened, taking control.

Having never kissed anyone before, she let him guide her, matching the slow, enticing rhythm of his lips. She learned to catch his mouth with hers, and how to lightly caress his tongue with her own, parting her lips to let him do the same. A strange and unusual notion, if put to paper, but in reality—a divine discovery. More than anything, she learned not to be still, moving her head, exploring with her hands as if they were part of the kiss. And she found she rather liked the hard contours of his muscular chest, so solid and satisfying beneath her touch. The back of his thrilled her too, and the soft prickles of his short hair made her skin tingle.

Slowly, he pushed away from his side of the carriage, slipping his arm around her waist as he joined her on her side.

The closeness of him was an immediate intoxicant, making her head swim and her heart race as she held him to her, kissing him so hard she worried her lips might bruise. He seemed to feel the same dizzying pull as he gripped her tighter, his mouth seeking unexplored territory as he drew his blazing kisses along her jaw and down her throat, a growl rumbling in the back of his throat as his tongue tasted her skin.

His head bent, she clung to him as his kisses ravished her neck, uncertain of how her entire body could be pulsing and trembling, so far away from the spot he kissed. It was as if she had just realized that everything was connected, and he was the one who had given her a map of her own being, highlighting the parts that warranted the most pleasure, underlining the places that would begin to shiver and blaze, all at once.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered against her neck, his expression almost painful as he paused to gaze into her eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” she gasped in reply.

A moment later, his lips found hers again, his hands gripping her waist as he leaned forward. The press of his body against hers urged her to lie back upon the squabs, her arms encircling him, pulling him closer, kissing him harder, her mind spinning with the delicious possibilities.

Her breath caught in her throat as he lay down with her, his hips settling between her thighs, his kisses like liquid fire against her skin, her lips, her neck, her bosom. It was akin to madness, as if she had taken leave of her senses, allowing a wild part of herself to take the reins. And, being married, she saw no reason for her rational self to seize back control. She was not doing anything wrong. Indeed, it felt so very right.

“Edwin,” she moaned, his hand skimming the curve of her waist, caressing up the rise of her breast.

She was grateful for the low neckline as his fingertips eased the edge downward, freeing her from the restraints of the bodice beneath. But she was not prepared for the warm pull of his mouth upon her nipple, the gentle suck teasing out an inferno that blazed down into her belly, her back arching involuntarily as her legs trembled.

“Oh… Oh, Edwin!” she gasped, running her fingertips through his hair as he sucked again.

She thought she felt him smile against her skin, before he abandoned that unexpected root of bliss, sliding his tongue through the valley between her breasts and making his way up to her throat once more, lavishing her with a thousand glorious kisses.

“We should not,” he murmured against her skin, making no attempt to stop.

Instead, he sought the fabric of her skirts, easing them up to the middle of her thigh, exposing her bare skin to the warmth of the carriage. His hand came to rest upon that shaking thigh, his palm slowly smoothing upward, her breath frantic with curiosity and desire as his mouth continued to tease hers, kissing her fiercely.

His fingertips had just reached the ribbon of her drawers, when the carriage jolted, sending the couple spilling onto the floor between the squabs. Tipping first, Edwin caught his wife in his arms, wheezing as she landed on top of him.

He held her there for a moment, arcing his head back as the carriage came to a halt, as if to see what the delay was about. But as the crunch of footsteps approached, his expression transformed into one of grim annoyance.

Carefully, his arm around her waist, Edwin picked Joanna up off the floor and set her down on the squabs, throwing a blanket around her to hide any part of her attire that might be deemed askew. Adjusting his own shirt and tailcoat and trousers, he opened the carriage door a crack.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“Jane and I wish to stop at the inn ahead,” came Peggy’s voice. “We are tired, we are hungry, we are thirsty, and if you expect us to continue without remedying at least one of those complaints, I shall fill my reticule with stones and smack it against this carriage wheel until it breaks.”

Edwin huffed out a sigh. “Very well.”

“Truly?” Peggy sounded surprised.

Edwin shrugged. “My wife and I are also in need of respite.”

“You realize we might be delayed in arriving at Lord Rotherham’s,” Peggy pressed.

“Do you wish to stop or not?” he shot back.

“Very much so!” Peggy insisted. “My, my, you are transforming before my very eyes, dearest Edwin. Your mother would be gladdened by the sight of it.”

The footsteps retreated and Edwin sank down onto the squabs, but his gaze did not seek out Joanna’s. Instead, he stared down at his hands as if they did not belong to him, his teeth grazing his lower lip, his expression no longer joyful or thrilled, but deeply, deeply sad. A look that Joanna, still breathless, could not understand.

Do not push me away, she pleaded inwardly, but, already, she sensed that divide growing between them once more, wider than before. If she leaped again, she feared the crevasse might swallow her whole, plunging all the light Edwin had conjured within her into utter darkness.