The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(26)

Yes, completely cocked it up. He clasped her hand, not wanting her to go. “I’m sorry, that was incredibly awkward. As I mentioned earlier, I’m quite good at that. Mrs. Shaw, would you do me the great honor of becoming my countess?”

“We scarcely know each other. I can’t—” She pulled her hand from his. “No.”

“Why not? It makes perfect sense. I need a mother for Evie, and you’ve developed an excellent rapport with her. Add in this apparent attraction we feel, and it’s a logical match.”

“Logical?” He heard the befuddlement in her tone and suspected that had been the wrong thing to say. Hell, he’d never been much of a romantic. Louisa had tried to train him. He’d at least learned to bring her flowers on occasion. Yes, he’d send Mrs. Shaw—Joanna—flowers tomorrow.

“I mean to say that you’d make a wonderful countess—and mother.”

“No, I won’t.” Her tone was cold. “I was married eight years, Lord Knighton, and I have no children to show for it. You say this is a logical match, but you want children—an heir—and I can’t give you one. So you see, it’s an impossible match.”

Suddenly, she thrust his coat into his arms. He caught it against him as she strode past and fled down the path toward the light.

Bran stayed in the dark. That was the only place he really belonged.





Chapter 6





Jo signed the last of her correspondence and folded the parchment. She’d written to her father, a friend from St. Ives, and a few of the villagers who’d started sending her notes of sympathy and encouragement after Matthias had died. Now that she’d come to London, their letters talked of missing her and Matthias’s presence and how the new vicar was terribly dull in comparison. They spoke highly of Matthias, and it took everything Jo had not to tell them their faith and devotion were utterly misplaced. Matthias had been a liar and a wretch. If they only knew the truth…

“Writing letters?” Nora breezed into the drawing room, carrying a bit of sewing.

Jo twisted in her chair. “Yes, I wrote to Father.” Their father was a terrible correspondent, but they made sure to write him a couple of times a month.

Nora sat near the windows, setting her sewing on her lap as she looked at Jo. “I need to coordinate his annual visit.”

Jo had seen him only once in the six years since he’d relocated to Dorset, but he’d managed to visit Nora every June after she’d become a duchess. “I suppose that means I’ll get to see him this year.”

Assuming she was still residing with Nora. The sensation of an uncertain future was very strange. At least her marriage to Matthias had given her a security in knowing where she would be and what she would be doing. Security was, perhaps, overrated.

“Yes,” Nora said. “Unless you decide to get married.” She flashed Jo a wide smile.

Jo’s stomach curdled, and she jerked her gaze to the windows. Knighton’s proposal had been at the forefront of her mind since the ball three nights ago. Along with the kisses they’d shared. He’d called her extraordinary. She still didn’t know what to make of that. He had to have been flattering her. She was the very definition of ordinary. Or even lackluster, if Matthias was to be believed. Her common sense told her that Matthias wasn’t to be believed, that he was a callous liar. And yet she couldn’t help but think there was a kernel of truth to his criticism of her. Otherwise, she likely would be a mother…

But she couldn’t. She was, as Matthias was so fond of telling her, only half a woman. Unable to please a man in bed and bear children, she wasn’t even sure if half was an adequate measurement.

“Jo?”

Nora’s gentle query drew her to turn her head once more. “Yes?”

“You seem faraway. You’ve been like that the past few days. Since the ball, really. I know something had to have happened. I wish you’d tell me.”

After fleeing from Knighton, Jo had found the retiring room where she’d hidden for close to an hour. By the time she found Nora again, she pleaded a dreadful headache and asked to go home. Nora had insisted on accompanying her, worried that Jo had disappeared for so long and that she apparently felt so horrid.

“Nothing happened. I told you it was a headache, nothing more. I’m merely feeling introspective as I think about the future. I can’t just ride your skirts for the next fifty years.”

Nora’s brow creased. “You aren’t doing that now.”

They’d had this conversation so many times, and it was beyond tired. Jo turned back to the desk and gathered up her correspondence to give it to Abbott.

“You’re going to ignore me, aren’t you?”

Jo exhaled in exasperation. “I don’t wish to discuss it. You have to stop worrying about me.”

“I’m your older sister. I’ve always worried about you.”

Then why did you mess up my life?

The question rose unbidden in her mind, and she instantly regretted even thinking it. But it persisted. She didn’t blame Nora for her lot. At least not consciously. Oh hell, she barely knew her own mind anymore.

Becky and Evie dashed into the drawing room just then, their grins as wide as the Thames.

Nora chuckled upon seeing them, and Jo couldn’t help but smile too. They both looked so happy. “How was the marzipan?”