Page 15 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
Outraged, Lysander rose to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at Graham,
“You might be my wife's only younger brother, but I am also her only husband. She would grieve too much if she lost me. Why were you so aggressive today, anyway? You're usually the sort to jump around and toy with your opponents as long as you possibly can.” Lysander pointed out, gradually recovering from the attack he hadn't seen coming.
Graham shook his head, unsure if he should bring up the matter.
“You cannot claim that nothing is wrong. You have been on edge all evening. What happened?” Julian pressed, squinting his eyes in suspicion.
With a deep exhale, Graham approached them as he said, “I finally found the woman I have been searching for.”
Lysander glanced at Julian before he said, “I thought congratulations would be in order, but taking in the look on your face, I take it matters are more complicated than we should assume.”
“Quite right,” Graham stated with a nod. “I was still unable to get her name properly — she wouldn’t even let me confirm if the one she’d given me all those years ago was truly her name. But at least, I am certain that she is in London. It should make finding her much easier.”
Lysander wasn’t easily convinced, however. Slowly, he asked, “Well, what new information were you able to learn about her, now that you have crossed paths with the woman you've sworn will be your beloved?”
Graham hesitated for a moment, then he announced carefully,
“Well… she is a widow. And she has a young daughter.”
Almost immediately, Lysander shook his head, the disapproval already written all over his face before he spoke.
“I do not like the sound of that one bit. There were already strange circumstances around her, but now that you are privy to the information that she is not only a widow but a mother, I feel as though you should reconsider your affections for her. We barely know who she is and what sort of family she is from. Now we must consider those factors regarding her husband, now — not to mention the circumstances surrounding his death. You are far too noble and good to take on burdens you have no business paying any attention to. Thetonalready scrutinizes you for things you did not do. The last thing you need is the scrutiny over you multiplying for reasons beyond your control.”
Graham understood what Lysander was saying and why he thought it wasn't ideal for him to long for a woman shrouded in so much mystery.
But he knew in his gut that something wasn't right. The way she wouldn't look at him spoke in volumes, and that child… what were the odds that her late father's hair was just like Graham's?
Judging by how young she was, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that perhaps Graham had given her mother more than just what he hoped were fond memories that night.
He couldn’t give up on her, not without answers directly from her. Not when it seemed that she was finally within his reach.
“I have never been particularly bothered by what thetonthinks of me. If they wish to find faults in the way I live my life, then that is a problem they should shoulder by themselves, seeing as they’re the ones who created it. But I do not want to give up on this woman. Not when everything in me only thinks and craves her,” Graham said, determined to see this through to the end.
If what his instincts were telling him was true, then there was only one thing he had to do.
He had to make her his wife.
CHAPTER SIX
Joan adjusted the sleeves of her dress again as she stared at her reflection.
Despite the event being a simple meal, she knew it was going to be a long evening somehow. No matter how much she tried to see her cousin's intentions as well-meaning, there was a wave of irritation that was curling beneath her skin.
She did not want to do this — appeal to a man desperately, to be granted the great honor of being tied to him forever. Joan had never imagined that she would want to get married, and even though the plot had been conjured for the sake of her daughter, she could only bend her will so far.
There was a knock at the door, and when Joan went to open it, she found a maid toying with her apron nervously.
“Miss Georgina requested that you join her in the dining hall. The guest is to arrive any moment,” she said, lowering her gaze.
“All right, thank you. I’ll be there in a moment,” Joan replied.
The words were scarcely past her lips before the maid scurried away, clearly deeming her work done. With a tired sigh, Joan gave her reflection one last glance, ignoring the dissatisfaction she felt at the sight of herself, willing strength to flow through her.
She had thought of stopping by the nursery to see how Sophia was fairing, but the child had been put down for a nap an hour ago, and Joan did not want to risk waking her. So instead, she walked to the dining room.
“Finally! I thought I would need to send another servant to retrieve you!” Georgina exclaimed, taking her by the hand and leading her back out of the dining room to the foyer.
“I-I'm sorry. I wanted to ensure that I looked acceptable enough… given the nature of this meeting,” Joan lied, knowing she had tried to stall for as long as possible, to avoid this whole fiasco completely.
