Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

W as there no place for Joana to escape the whispers?

No matter how far she traveled, they were always present.

It was unusual to see a woman in the vicinity of the House of Lords – and considering how synonymous her name had become with scandal, it was even less expected. Her father, Benedict Wynn, Viscount of Thornaby, did not seem to mind, however. As they passed the entrance of the building, his sharp chin remained raised in the air with pride in his face and he seemed thrilled greeting all of his acquaintances as if he wasn't walking alongside a disgraced daughter. He was trying to make a point. And it was unsettling.

Only months prior, Joana's limbs would have tingled with excitement at the mere thought of being present here. Joining her father on such an important outing? She had always been intrigued by the mysteriousness of her father's life, the nuances of how society functioned, and his part to play in it all.

But presently, it was impossible to remain excited. She was far too focused on keeping her eyes glued to the marble floor to enjoy this. Truthfully, it was unlikely anyone recognized her here, but the suffocating feeling that gripped her throat upon every glance her way was just too much to bear – all she wanted was to escape. Though she would usually feel the opposite, today, if she could somehow make her petite frame even smaller, she would have done so.

"Father, is it truly necessary that I accompany you?" Joana asked her father sweetly. She spoke under her breath, keeping her gaze diverted to the ground so as to not attract attention to herself. Anything to discourage the unsolicited eyes from lingering on her for longer than necessary. She had even taken great care to dress in drab, muted colors and kept her hairstyle modest for that exact reason.

Despite her family's encouragement, Joana had long abandoned her pursuit of a husband. It did not matter how many eligible young men that she might encounter here in the House of Lords -- she wanted nothing to do with it.

A few months ago, her life had changed for the worse. Father was trying to make her feel better, and she appreciated that…but she wished to stay indoors. Safe. In her home.

"I should have thought that this was the sort of event that would pique your interest, considering your keenness toward my personal affairs?"

Joana glanced up at her father, only long enough to see the concern knitting his bushy brows.

"I do not mean to sound ungrateful, father, I do thank you for the opportunity…" Joana trailed off, guilt nibbling at her with every word that she uttered.

Her father tried to cast aside his own worry with a smile. "Since when do you watch your words so carefully around me? I wish that you would speak to me…confide in me so that we might overcome this…all, together as a family ."

Joana forcibly composed herself. She could never confide in him. Would he even believe her if she were to tell him exactly what happened that night? And who it happened with? It hardly mattered anymore. She was ruined. Joana had stained her family's name and reputation indelibly. How could she ever look her father in the eye knowing that he would have to struggle because of something that had happened to her?

Just that quickly, tears threatened to spill and she instantly swallowed them back. She forced a smile that did not quite meet her eyes. "Apologies, forgive my ramblings -- I am very grateful for the opportunity to spend the day with you."

For a moment, it looked as though her father was going to press the issue, but then he thought better of it. "Well...yes, the proceedings today should be rather enthralling. I think that they will be worth the listen."

Joana offered a polite dip of her head. "It will be a rare privilege indeed," she replied passively.

Even if she were permitted inside that room rather than being forced to linger in its vicinity -- she would not attend. Even if somehow she could have disguised herself as a man to attend the debate -- she would never willingly place herself that close to that many men ever again. She had learned her lesson the hard way.

As they continued on, her father rambled about something related to the forthcoming proceedings, but Joana's thoughts were elsewhere.

"Joana?" he asked, looking at her. His lips pressed into a tight line, the concern evident. "I thought that you were interested in politics?" the Viscount pressed again after a moment. "You always have your nose stuck in books about everything under the sun. While it is certainly not befitting of a lady, I have allowed it today, and this is how you show gratitude?"

"Forgive me, it is just… the crowds …" Joana started to explain and stopped herself. It would be of no use. Her sister was the only one who had true sympathy for her plight. Her father was of the mind that they simply needed to continue showing face, keeping their heads held high, and that somehow everything would work itself out. As if they could somehow overcome the strict social conventions of the ton with relentless optimism and a mere change of scenery. A change in residence had done little to quell the whispers about her she sometimes overheard.

"Of course. I forgot that females were ill-equipped to handle so much excitement. Forgive my oversight, daughter. Would you prefer to withdraw to the Ladies' gallery and regain yourself?" Benedict beamed, thinking that he was being most benevolent.

He was ignorant of the truth, but he meant well enough.

Joana latched onto the opportunity for privacy. "Yes! Please!"

She curtsied to her father before spinning on her heels.

"And you will be alright? I could accompany you," he offered, knowing that it was the proper way to handle the situation, but Joana was more than ready to be on her own. She could hardly breathe with as many people around her as it was.

"I shall be fine father, I promise! I should hate for you to miss a moment of your proceedings. I will be here waiting for you when it is finished," Joana offered with a warm smile, knowing that he would be remiss to miss any of the debate himself. The older man seemed to hesitate for a moment, his fingers pressed together anxiously as if torn over what he ought to do, before ultimately nodding and hedging toward the entrance into the great chamber of the House of Lords. Joana caught but a fleeting glimpse of the splendid red-decorated interior before the doors shut once more, isolating her from the only familiar face for miles.

Her father had never once indulged her desires to explore politics or any of her other academic interests. It could not be pity alone that spurred his impromptu invitation, it must also have been something else. But whatever the dual nature was, she had little desire to find out his ulterior motives just yet.

She could feel the unwanted stares that glossed over her far more acutely now that she was unaccompanied. Perhaps going off alone was not the brightest idea. She walked quickly away from the hall, now seeking any room that would provide sanctuary to her. She wove silently through the crowds of gentlemen, careful to not even brush by their looming frames, as her heart began pounding in her ears. Eventually, the throngs of people around her started to thin and the pressure inside her chest started to lessen.

Then, she rounded a corner.

A familiar voice hit her first, freezing her on the spot. It was like the oxygen in the hallway seemed to thin all at once. Her eyes widened, focusing solely on the one thing that she had hoped never to see again in her life.

Old wounds clawed their way to the forefront of her mind. The agonizing sensation of hands grabbing at her – pawing at her while a brandy-laced voice laughed menacingly in the dark.

The realization that she was not physically strong enough to dislodge the man from her person had been terrifying. It had chilled her to the very bone that no matter how hard she pushed and scratched at that very man…he had been stronger. He had been intent on taking what he wanted from her…and there had been nothing that she could have done about it were it not for a stranger who happened to pass by at just the right time. It may have saved her dignity, but not in the eyes of the ton.

Her vision blurred, and she reached out, her gloved hand catching on the closest wall to steady herself. It was a wonder that she did not faint on the spot.