Chapter 23

CHAPTER23

As the orchestra began the music for the next set, the ladies curtsied and the gentlemen bowed to their respective partners, and Edwin’s nerves swelled to an arresting peak. He had not danced in over a decade. Even before he retreated from society, he had danced but rarely. His brother, Geoffrey, had always been the dancer, charming everyone with his graceful movements, perpetually inundated with young ladies trying to gain his name upon their dance cards.

“Look at me,” Joanna urged softly, drawing his attention to her captivating eyes. “Look only at me. I shall guide you.”

He stepped toward her, pressing his palm to hers, listening to the quiet call of steps that whispered from her lips in time with the orchestra. Soon enough, with his concentration entirely fixated upon his wife’s voice, the rest of the ballroom melted away. He no longer noticed the burn of vicious glares or the turned-up noses or the harsh gossip. How could he, when he had everything good and kind and beautiful, guiding him through?

“You heard, did you not?” Joanna asked, a short while later, as the steps repeated for the third time.

Edwin pressed his hand lightly to the small of her back as they promenaded. “I did.”

“Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Not here,” he replied, for he was beginning to enjoy himself.

She smiled, turning to face him, “As you prefer.” She moved around him in a jaunty circle, hopping lithely from foot to foot. “I have missed this.”

“Did you dance often, before me?”

She paused to curtsy, as he repeated the steps she had just taken. “I danced as often as I was able. When we have our ball at Bruxton Hall, I might insist upon having a waltz, just to shock and amaze everyone. Give society something to truly sink their teeth into.”

“You wish to hold a ball at Bruxton Hall?” His heart clenched, imagining the intrusion.

Joanna nodded. “The finest ball of the season. Of course, not this season, but next.” She beamed up at him and his heart soared. “When my flowers begin to bloom, and the eastern and southern wings are not imminent disasters, we shall send our invitations.”

“What if no one attends?”

Joanna flashed him a pointed look. “My darling, they will come. They will not be able to resist.”

Nor do I know if I am able to resist, he mused, admiring the way her sensual silhouette swayed and turned and twisted with the music. He had craved her in the carriage, spurred on by a powerful need that still thrummed in his veins. But after hearing her words on the garden piazza, that need had transformed into something altogether more potent: the need to be a true husband, worthy of the compliments she had graced him with.

“He is… so very dear to me that I do not think I could ever bear to be without him… I cherish him, and wish he knew how beloved he was,” she had said. Somehow, those words had formed a barrier, protecting him against the violent sting of his aunt’s revelations. All he had to do was think of Joanna saying those dear things again, and he could push away the scratching talons of his mother’s true fate.

As the couple whirled and turned together, letting the rest of the ball blur beyond the periphery of their mutual gaze, Edwin’s heart glowed with such affection and warmth for his wife that he realized he had not stopped smiling for at least a minute. And his heart, once frozen solid, could not withstand the sunshine of her presence.

First, it had cracked, but now, despite his best intentions, he could not deny that it was on its way to thawing entirely.

* * *

By the time the clock chimed two o’clock in the morning, it seemed as if everyone had forgotten they had an infamous duke among them. The festivities had slowed, the dancing drawing fewer and fewer couples, the orchestra yawning, the guests split evenly between the inebriated and the weary.

But Edwin and Joanna were not yet ready to depart, their spirits refusing to flag. Though Joanna had only been joking about dancing all night with her husband, they had danced together more than any couple present, and her heart was so full, her entire being so happy, that she hoped it never ended.

“Mama,” Joanna said, as the newlyweds paused to refresh themselves. “Edwin and I are going to take a turn around the gardens to cool ourselves. Do not leave before we return.”

Her mother smiled, taking hold of Joanna’s hands and pulling her into an embrace. “I never thought this could be possible,” she whispered, close to her daughter’s ear. “I was so afraid. I read your letters and thought I could hear the pretense in every word, but I see now that I was mistaken.”

“Is he not the most wonderful man?” Joanna sighed, a little tipsy.

Her mother hugged her tighter. “Any gentleman who can make you smile and laugh and blush like that is truly a wonder. I was wrong about him.”

“We all were,” Joanna replied.

“And you swear he is kind to you? Do you promise me that?”

Joanna pulled back, brushing a strand of hair out of her mother’s face. “He is quiet in his kindness, but his generosity knows no bounds.” She paused. “This gown was his mother’s. He brought it to me, and had a seamstress work all night to alter it for me and has asked for nothing in return. My goodness, Mama, if you knew him as I know him, you would never worry again.”

“You forget,” her mother replied, chuckling stiffly, “I still have Nancy to worry over. But, thanks to you and His Grace, at least I have some hope now—hope that my daughters will both be happier than I have ever been.”

Joanna exhaled slowly, cradling her mother’s face. “You could divorce?”

“I could not,” her mother said. “You know I could not. Besides, you and Nancy are my happiness; you always have been. As long as you are content and you both find love, I shall never want for anything more.”

Joanna beamed from ear to ear. “Well, I think I am falling in love, so let that soothe you.”

“It does,” her mother urged, releasing her. “Now, go and walk with your charming husband, while I sit here and drink tea and allow myself a moment of satisfaction that all of this has turned into something wonderful.”

Joanna kissed her mother on the cheek and, spotting Nancy and Peggy asleep on nearby chairs, watched over by Jane, she rushed out to meet her husband at the garden piazza. As for her father, Joanna did not care where the man was, though she could guess; he was likely sharing sordid tales with the older gentlemen who frequented the smoking room.

I imagine you are congratulating yourself on a well-made contract, she mused, realizing that he had not asked, not once, if she was happy. They had barely spoken all night, in truth, but on the occasions when they had, he had asked mundane questions about the house and about Edwin’s business endeavors. Nothing of how his daughter was faring. He had even had the audacity to ask when he might look forward to a grandson, though Joanna had not dignified the assumption with a response.

A little boy with Edwin’s beautiful blue eyes—that might be a fine thing. Or a sweet girl with his chestnut locks and my eyes—I would cherish that. In truth, she had not considered the prospect of children, for she had been too occupied in breaking down her husband’s high walls. Now that their relationship seemed set on a good course, she wondered if they ought to discuss children, at some point.

“I thought you were not coming,” Edwin’s voice distracted her, as he stepped out of the shadows cast by a cherry tree in full bloom.

Joanna walked straight into his arms. “I paused to speak with my mother.”

“Is she still terrified of me?”

Joanna shook her head, peering up into the sparkle of his eyes. “I think she might like you more than I do. The others are asleep. Jane is guarding their valuables.”

“I should have arranged accommodations.” He chewed upon his lower lip, his arms loose around her, as if distracted.

She raised up on tiptoe, planting a kiss on his lips. “No one is making any complaints, my darling. So, let us walk while everyone else sleeps. Our absence will not be noticed.” She grinned, “Is there not something so very thrilling about being awake late at night, as if you are the only person in the world?”

“I find it to be a lonely hour,” he replied, cupping her face. “But then, all of my hours used to be lonely.”

She chuckled, melting into him. “You are getting better at those jests, dearest Edwin.”

“I am?” he seemed pleased.

“Very much so.” Taking him by the hand, she led him to the far side of the piazza, where steps descended into the moonlit avenues of the manor’s ornamental gardens.

The grounds of Rotherham Hall were vast, the lawns and gardens surrounded by dense forest that eventually gave way to rolling moorland. To prevent guests from losing their way, the servants of the house had set up torches along the gravel walkways, lighting the permitted paths.

Reveling in the quiet, undisturbed by other guests, Joanna and Edwin walked at their leisure, speaking of everything and nothing. Or, rather, Joanna spoke of everything and nothing while her husband smiled and only responded when necessary.

“I thought you would be gloomy tonight,” she said, after a while.

Edwin arched an eyebrow. “Because I usually am?”

“No, because of… well, you know… the things you overheard.” She shrugged, wondering if she should have kept quiet on the matter. “Not that I am telling you how you ought to behave. Strangely, I am glad that you have been so at ease, for I have had the most wonderful evening. It rather makes me ponder why we could not have met this way, gallivanting at a ball.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “I did not attend balls. You would never have met me this way.” He paused. “As for the unpleasantness I overheard—it changes nothing, so there is little use in letting it wound me further. In a way—and you might consider me macabre or unseemly for this—hearing the truth from my aunt made me feel… vindicated.”

“What do you mean?” Joanna leaned into her husband’s side, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I have struggled with what I did to my father,” he explained haltingly. “I know it saved my brother, at least initially, but I have often wondered why I had to go so far as to kill him. I could have loosened my grip before that moment and still saved my brother. I took the possibility of revenge from my brother, and I have battled with that for years. My brother might have been content to endure if he could have taken matters into his own hands.”

Joanna nodded slowly, understanding. “But hearing what your father did to your mother, you feel pardoned?”

“Not pardoned, per se, but as if I exacted vengeance for someone else. For my mother. So, I did not take that revenge from my brother, after all, because there was someone ahead of him in the line for retribution.” Edwin puffed out a breath, “does that make any sense at all?”

She smiled at him. “I think so.”

“But do not deem me unfeeling,” he added, lowering his gaze. “I care. I have merely learned, over the years, how to hide it well. And how to stow away a thought that might unravel me. If I were to truly dwell upon what happened to my mother, you would be standing beside a husk. I do not want to return to that manner of living.”

Joanna stepped in front of him, pressing her palms to his chest to stop him. “I could never think of you as unfeeling. I understand, as much as anyone who has not suffered so much can.” She smoothed her hands up his chest until they met at the back of his neck. “I admire your strength, more than you know. And it gladdens my heart to hear that you do not want to return to the sullen creature that you were when we first met.”

“I do not believe you would allow it,” he laughed. A real, soft laugh that struck Joanna like a lightning bolt. “You would bombard me with conversation, endless teasing, and an education on plants until I had no choice but to feel my spirits lighten.”

Driven by a sudden impulse, Joanna rose up on tiptoe and bent her head to kiss his throat, where that soul-warming laugh had originated. His skin smelled of soap and something deeper and richer, like amber or bergamot.

“What are you doing?” His throat moved against her lips.

“Thanking the heavens that you are capable of laughter,” she murmured, kissing up to the edge of his jaw.

Edwin swallowed loudly. “We are in public gardens, Joanna.”

“Ah, but you are neglecting to notice one thing,” she said coyly, pausing before her mouth grazed his.

“And what is that?”

She pulled back, flashing a mischievous grin. “We have abandoned the designated path, my darling,” she swept a hand outward, highlighting the fact that the torches had ended long ago, and they were standing on a path illuminated only by the moon. “There are no rules here.”