Chapter 25

CHAPTER25

Joanna slept for what seemed like an eternity, stirring to unfamiliar surroundings and a jolting motion that made her all the more disoriented. Daylight peeked in through small, rectangular windows, stinging her eyes.

“Good morning,” a gentle voice said.

She squinted to find Edwin sitting opposite where she lay, upon what appeared to be the velvet squabs of the carriage. “You are a sorcerer!” she whispered, struggling to sit up. “How have I come to be here? I was… in the boathouse, with you.”

“And you fell asleep, as you threatened to,” he replied, smiling so brightly she wondered if she was still dreaming. “I carried you here. My aunt and her companion were eager to depart, so we did. I do believe we are almost home.”

Joanna’s sleepy contentment cracked sharply, splintering into panic. “No!”

“Pardon?”

“No! I did not get to say farewell to my mother and sister! I promised that I would. I told them not to leave before I could say goodbye!” she urged, her voice breaking. “Oh, why did you not wait? It shall be an age until I see them again, and letters are not the same, before you suggest it!”

Laughter pealed from Edwin’s lips, startling her. “My dear, you did say farewell to them. It is the most peculiar thing—there is a version of you that emerges when you are between sleeping and waking. I must name her. She is rather amusing, and particularly troublesome.”

“What?” Joanna blinked in confusion.

“I carried you to the carriage and informed your family that we would be departing,” he explained, still chuckling. “I assumed you would awaken when they came to say farewell. You did, in a manner of speaking, but I could see you were not entirely awake. You told your sister to find a very rich, very handsome gentleman, but not a duke, because you should get to win for once. And you told your mother to expose your father in the scandal sheets, then gain a most victorious divorce and be eternally happy. Fortunately, your father was not there to hear it. He arrived shortly afterward, and I dare not repeat what you said to him.”

Joanna felt the blood drain from her face. “No, you must. What did I say?”

“Very well.” Amusement rippled across Edwin’s handsome face. “You told him you hope he contracts a venereal disease.”

Joanna yelped, clamping a hand across her mouth. “I did not!”

“You did,” he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I was quite proud of you.”

“How am I still alive?” she gasped, horrified. “Did he not wish to kill me immediately?”

He shrugged. “It is my duty to protect you. I would not let him near you.” He paused. “I also informed him that you had struck your head in the gardens. No one believed it, of course, which I am glad about, but it allowed your father to pretend to retain some of his meager dignity.”

“And my mother?” Joanna gulped, worried that her mother might have been punished in her stead.

Edwin flashed a winning grin. “She told him that she did hope he contracted a venereal disease, embraced you, and left with your sister in the carriage. As far as I am aware, your father is still at Lord Rotherham’s.”

“She did not!” Joanna’s panic transformed into awe… and then disappointment. “Why did you not wake me properly? I have waited my entire life to witness such a scene!”

Edwin’s smile dimmed a little. “I did try. You would not.”

“Why, I could throttle Sleepy Jo,” Joanna said, sighing.

“Is that her name—Sleepy Jo?”

Joanna nodded. “She has plagued me my entire life. She takes over when I am at my most vulnerable, though she has never said anything quite so extraordinary before. Then again, I am usually undisturbed when I drift off to sleep, which has, perhaps, saved me from such antics.”

“I should like to see more of her,” Edwin said, his smile brightening once more.

“Then, you ought to share a bedchamber with your wife. I am certain you would grow weary of her errant twin if you were to do so,” Joanna pointed out, pleased by the faint flush that blotted his cheeks, and the awkward, charming way in which he pulled at his collar.

Edwin gave a small nod. “I had been considering that.”

“Oh?” Joanna’s heart leapt.

“There is a chamber that adjoins yours. The door was painted shut many years ago, and I believe is currently hidden behind your armoire, but… I thought I might remove the paint and move into that room. If it would not be too much of an inconvenience, of course,” he added in haste. “I know a lady’s chambers are a sanctuary of sorts.”

It was not exactly what Joanna had hoped for, especially considering what had occurred in the boathouse, and all the things she looked forward to continuing, but she had come to learn that Edwin moved slowly. He took small steps toward progress, not strides, and there was untold courage in that. Indeed, if she had suffered as he had—first, by his father’s cruelty, then through the loss of his brother, then by the judgment of the public arena—she doubted she would have ever stepped out into the world again.

“I think I can tolerate that,” she teased. “Although, I must tell you, I like to practice my operatic singing between eight o’clock and nine o’clock in the evening, so do prepare for that. I have been told that I am atrocious by every teacher I have ever had, but they are mistaken. I have the voice of an angel.”

Edwin’s eyes widened, “You… sing opera?”

“I am jesting, my darling,” she replied, so comfortable in his company that she could hardly believe they were the same pair who had been married under duress.

How could I ever have thought you to be a killer? How could I have ever suspected there was a bad bone in your body? She sighed contentedly, taking a moment to just observe her handsome, passionate, surprisingly sensual husband as he exhaled a breath of relief. The kind of gentleman she knew she could love, for the rest of her days, and would love her in return in his own, quieter way.

* * *

No more than half an hour later, the carriage pulled up to the front steps of Bruxton Hall, depositing the Duke and Duchess at their door in a weary, confused condition. Even after her lengthy nap, Joanna felt as if she could sleep for a week.

“Is that Peggy and Jane?” Joanna blinked toward the gates, or lack thereof, as a second carriage rumbled through. “I thought they were returning to Rowley Manor.”

Edwin glowered, “As did I.” He gestured back at the house. “I watched my own staff pack their belongings onto a cart.”

Just then, a figure shot out of the manor, rushing down the steps to where the Duke and Duchess stood. Golding looked even more exhausted than Joanna felt, the stress visible in his pinched eyes, drawn face, and greasy hair.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Golding began at a clip, as if he already knew he would be in trouble for the return of Peggy and Jane. “The driver of your aunt’s cart had been given alternative instructions. He came back to the manor not twenty minutes after you had all departed and began unloading everything. He claimed there was a mishap with the cart, but it looked perfectly fine to me. I suspect your aunt paid him handsomely to not return to Rowley Manor. Her footmen would not corroborate my suspicions, but that is no great surprise.”

Edwin’s expression darkened, but Joanna jumped in before the storm-clouds could linger. “It must be fate, dear Edwin,” she said cheerily. “I was just thinking about the improvements I wish to make to the drawing room and the western parlor, and Peggy’s advice and suggestions have been invaluable. Another week or two might suffice.”

“I had hoped to have some privacy,” Edwin replied grimly.

“What harm can another fortnight do?” Joanna urged, taking hold of his arm. “I have relished your aunt’s company, and it is so pleasing to have someone of my age nearby, who I hope to, one day, call a dear friend. It would be of even greater benefit, for I am currently pining for my sister. Jane is not Nancy, but she is an appreciated substitute.”

Edwin’s expression remained gloomy, but he raised a hand in reluctant welcome as the second carriage came to a halt.

Peggy emerged from the carriage as if her return had been assumed, pecking her nephew on the cheek before stretching out her arms. “Goodness, what a wondrous evening that was, was it not?” she yawned loudly. “Your darling wife certainly charmed those miserable old goats. She was the envy of the ladies, and you were the envy of the gentleman. Rather a success, I should say.”

“You were remarkable, Joanna,” Jane agreed, taking hold of Joanna’s hands. “I confess, I thought I would sit idly by as always, but I was asked by several gentlemen if I would dance! It is the first time such a thing has happened.”

Joanna gasped. “I do not believe that for a moment. Look at you, dear Jane! You are a vision of loveliness.”

“Indeed, she is,” Peggy interjected, “but the gossip that has surrounded my darling nephew for years has tainted the rest of us. Any association made us pariahs. Why, I have only survived the scorn because I am old, and I know too much. If I was not invited to gatherings and balls, society would fear my retribution. Nevertheless, poor Jane has suffered terribly, forced into being a wallflower when she has the beauty and grace of a society diamond.”

Jane nodded shyly. “Last night, I felt my fortunes changing. It is all because of you.”

“I have done nothing,” Joanna protested humbly. “All I did was marry the most wonderful man. He is the one who ought to be lauded.”

Indeed, he ought to be applauded by the heavens themselves for what he made me feel last night, she mused in secret, her heart racing at the very thought, her body responding to the memory until her skin tingled and her stomach tightened. She needed to take a deep breath, in case Jane and Peggy thought she had succumbed to a fever.

Edwin rolled his eyes, but he could not hide his delight; it shone from deep within him. “Aunt, you are not supposed to be here.” His mood flipped sharply. “Why are you not continuing on to Rowley Manor?”

“I am exhausted, Edwin,” Peggy replied, feigning a dramatic yawn. “You can bellow and complain tomorrow. Golding, have a tea tray prepared—large enough to serve four. We shall drink it in the drawing room and then take to our beds until evening, I expect.”

Golding opened and closed his mouth in silent outrage, but Peggy had already breezed past him into the house, ahead of those who were actually supposed to be there.

“She means well,” Jane urged in a whisper. “Forgive her.”

Joanna chuckled. “I do not think Golding ever shall.”

“Please, do not send us away,” Jane turned to plead with Edwin, who watched his aunt’s disappearing back with a look of resignation.

Edwin shrugged, “I could not, even if I wanted to.” He paused. “She is like a swarm of fruit flies in summer. You think you have rid yourself of them at last, swatting for hours until the final creature has perished, only to find them humming around the kitchens the next morning.”

Jane stifled a laugh. “You have become more humorous since your marriage, Your Grace. It becomes you well.”

“Not too humorous, I hope,” he replied. “I would not want you to think I have changed too much, lest my aunt thinks she is permitted to stay as long as she pleases.”

Joanna observed the exchange with a pride she did not know how to explain, for though she rather enjoyed the fact that she was the only one who was privy to Edwin’s softer, more amusing side, it showed just how much he had changed that he was able to make not one, but two jests in the company of others.

“I suppose we ought to enjoy our tea,” Edwin muttered, offering his hand to Joanna.

She grinned at him. “And then, as instructed by Peggy, we must take to our beds until evening.”

“I am not weary,” he replied, walking her up the front steps to the main door, while Jane followed behind with Golding.

Joanna leaned into his ear. “Nor would I want you to be. Nevertheless, we must do as we are told and retire to our chambers, and under no circumstances must we be disturbed until a reasonable hour.”

He still did not seem to pick up on her less-than-subtle hints, charming her with his innocence. Of course, she knew he was not so innocent; his touch, his tongue, his kiss still thrummed in her mind like a spell. And she was all too eager to begin where they had left off the previous night, exploring the exciting new world of their union until there was nothing left to explore.

At length, realization dawned across his face, but the sideways glance that he cast her did not hold the enthusiasm she had hoped for. That scared sadness had returned to his eyes, his lips flattening into a line of consternation, as if that was the very last thing upon his mind.

“Or, we could just… rest,” she offered, puzzled.

He cleared his throat. “For now, I think that would be for the best.”

She had lost him to the labyrinth of his past again, and though she had begun to understand how to navigate the bewildering twists and turns of the memory maze that held him in its grip, there were moments where she feared she might lose him for good. And that had been one such moment.

Do not go where I cannot follow, my darling, she urged in heavy silence. Do not go beyond the torchlight.