The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(75)

Oh hell, what a tangle.





Chapter 18





After barely eating any of her luncheon, Jo retreated to her chamber for a respite before giving Evie her afternoon lessons. How much longer could she go on like this? She was tired and defeated and paralyzed with fear.

She’d planned to talk to Bran last night, but then she’d watched him with that widow, Mrs. Rollins, and she’d been overcome with jealousy. She hated feeling that way, just as she’d hated the way she’d exploded with Nora the other day. She couldn’t go on like this. She was tense and distraught, and it had to stop.

She tipped her chin up and straightened her spine, intent on going for a walk. That would lift her spirits. Walking into the corridor, she encountered Bucket. “I have mail for you, Mrs. Shaw.” He handed her two letters.

“Thank you.” She saw that they were from Lucy and Aquilla. Her stomach fell into her feet. Retracing her steps to her room, she slowly opened the missives and read the contents. Both had delivered their children yesterday. And both were sons.

And just like that, the courage that Jo had summoned went up in flames.

But just as quickly, it transformed into a different kind of courage. She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done.

Surprisingly dry-eyed, she set the letters on her desk and strode from her room. She made her way to the nursery, where she asked Mrs. Poole to give her a few minutes to speak with Evie.

Conjuring a smile, Jo sat down and asked Evie to join her at the table.

“What is it?” Evie asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

Jo’s smile widened, but there was a great deal of sadness behind it, which she was working to suppress. “Not at all. And you must remember that after what I tell you.”

Evie sat down, her face registering confusion. “What is it?”

“I’m not going to be able to be your governess anymore.”

Evie stared at her, and Jo wasn’t sure she’d processed the information until she said, “You have to be.”

“I’m afraid I cannot. This was always a temporary situation—remember when I said at the very beginning that we were going to try it?”

Evie’s forehead formed deep creases, and her gaze was stricken. “Yes, but that means I did do something wrong. Why else would you leave?”

“Oh, Evie, you did nothing wrong. Being a governess just isn’t…” She couldn’t say it wasn’t what she wanted, because it was—and so much more. So she lied. “I miss being able to have more freedom, to attend events with my sister. Going to the dinner party last night reminded me of that.”

Evie’s lip began to quiver, and Jo’s heart ripped in two. She scooted her chair close to Evie and put her arm around her. “I’m so sorry, but we will still be friends. You’ll see me all the time when you come to visit Becky.” Until Jo determined what she was going to do next. The lonely cottage was beginning to look like her best option. Or, at least the one that might cause her the least misery.

Evie, silent tears now streaming down her face, shook off Jo’s arm. “No, we won’t. I don’t want to be your friend. Friends don’t hurt each other. I hate you!” She jumped up and ran from the room, passing a startled Bran, who watched her go and then swung his confused face toward Jo.

But confusion quickly changed to anger. “What the hell just happened?”

Jo tried to swallow past the lump in her throat but had great difficulty. She stood, her legs quaking. “I informed Evie that I wouldn’t be her governess any longer. I was going to speak with you when you arrived home. I resign my position effective immediately.”

“Immediately? You won’t even give me the courtesy of staying while I find a replacement?” He shook his head and took a few steps farther into the nursery. “Never mind that. Why are you leaving?”

Jo clenched her hands together, squeezing, but not feeling a thing. “I can’t continue in this manner. We behaved poorly, allowing our relationship to become too intimate. It’s not good for Evie.”

He stared at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “What changed? Things have been fine—better than fine—for weeks. Then a few days ago, you began acting strangely. Did I do something? You know I can be a thoughtless ass.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled in her chest, but she didn’t let it out. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve enjoyed our time together, which is precisely why I have to go. Can’t you see?”

He took another step toward her. “No, I can’t. If things are good, why leave?”

“Because you need to find a countess, and I can’t be here when you do.” In her mind, she saw him with Mrs. Rollins last night. Her heart twisted anew. “I can’t, Bran.”

He moved nearly close enough to touch her. “I wanted you to be that countess.”

“But I can’t give you children. I’d hoped—for a few days—that I could. I was wrong. I’m barren, Bran. There wouldn’t be more children, no heir.” The pain of her lost dreams cut deep. She wrapped her arms around her belly, as if she could soothe the agony. But she couldn’t. “You need to move on, and you can’t do that with me here.”

He opened his mouth but snapped it closed. A small piece of her had hoped he would tell her it didn’t matter, that he’d ask her to stay.