Page 33 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
“Of course,mo leannan,” Graham replied, but his eyes were fixed on Joan's retreating figure with an expression she couldn't quite decipher.
Joan didn't stop walking until she reached Sophia's chambers, her heart pounding within the crevices of her chest in a way that made her feel sick. She gently set Sophia down and immediately busied herself preparing the bath, needing something to do with her hands.
“Mama, why did we have to leave so quickly?” Sophia asked, her small voice tinged with confusion. “Papa wasn't finished showing me his books.”
“Because,” Joan said, testing the water temperature a few more times than necessary, “You cannot simply impose yourself on people when they have important work to do.”
Sophia frowned, her expression telling of the confusion she felt at having to decipher a big word all by herself. Joan would usually help her by explaining it or providing another word entirely that was simpler for her to handle. But her thoughts were too clouded by the mess of emotions within her that she couldn’t even notice her daughter’s struggle.
“But he said I could stay,” Sophia whined eventually. “He said he liked having me there.”
Joan's hands stilled in the warm water.
Of course, Graham would say that. Of course, he would be everything she had never dared hope for in a father for Sophia. He was shaping up to be an ideal man far more quickly than Joan had expected, easily defeating all her expectations. And that terrified her more than she could possibly express.
“Come here, my love,” she said softly, helping Sophia out of her dress. “Into the tub with you.”
As she gently washed Sophia's hair, Joan tried to push away the image of how comfortable her daughter had looked in Graham's study, how natural their interaction had seemed. She had always been enough for Sophia before. They had been a complete unit, just the two of them against the hardships of life for all of Sophia’s life.
Now, there was someone else who was going to do whatever he could to ensure she never had to endure any form of hardship at all, which is what Joan had dreamed of for so long. A peaceful life for herself and her daughter, one where their needs were all met adequately and they were safe and sound and together.
So why was she feeling so threatened and discontent?
“Mama?” Sophia's voice pierced Joan’s thoughts as she played with the soap bubbles. “Are you happy?”
The question caught Joan off guard. “Of course I'm happy, darling. Why would you ask such a thing?”
Sophia turned to look at her with those perceptive blue eyes that seemed far too wise for a four-year-old. “Because you don't look happy. You have the same face you used to make when we didn't have enough food for supper.”
Joan felt her breath cling to the walls of her lungs, sticky and too heavy for the room there. “Sophia, I – “
“You're not very good at lying, Mama. You always used to say that lying was bad and that we shouldn't do it.”
Oh, what a cruel twist of irony it was, to be lectured by one’s offspring, on a matter one had previously lectured said offspring on.
Joan did not know whether she should be proud or frustrated.
“I'm not lying, my sweet girl. I am happy. I'm just... worried that this is such a big change for us both. If you ever feel like you don't like it here, we can leave. Just the two of us, like before.”
Sophia's eyes widened with something that looked like panic. “No, Mama! I don't want to leave Papa! I love him already, and he promised to teach me about horses and Scotland and – “
“Shh,” Joan soothed, caressing Sophia's soft cheek. “You don't have to leave him. I merely wanted you to know that you have choices. It doesn’t have to be this life, not if you do not want it.”
But even as she said the words, Joan felt the familiar clench of panic in her chest. Who would want anything less than this? It should have been no surprise that Sophia was already becoming attached to Graham, already seeing him as a permanent fixture in their lives. What would happen when he inevitably grew tired of playing father? What would happen when he realized that Joan brought nothing to their marriage except complications and a child he had never planned for?
The thought of watching Sophia's heart break when Graham inevitably abandoned them was almost more than Joan could bear.
“I love you, Mama,” Sophia said suddenly, wrapping her small, wet arms around Joan's neck. “And I love Papa too. I think papa loves you too.”
Joan closed her eyes against the well-intentioned words of her daughter. “I don’t know if that is necessarily true, poppet. And… I do not know if I can love him too,” she whispered in a small act of vulnerability.
She did not believe she was capable of such an emotion, not with what she had endured in her life.
“You will,” Sophia stared firmly. “You’re like the princess in my story who was scared of what she would become with the prince by her side. But his love saved her! Papa and I will love you and save you, too!”
Quite an imagination on this one, Joan thought with a mixture of amusement and terror. If a four-year-old could see through her so easily, what hope did she have of hiding her intentions and feelings about Graham and his effect on their life from him?
As she helped Sophia out of the bath and into her nightgown, Joan couldn't shake the feeling that she was losing control of the careful walls she had built around her heart. Graham was proving to be everything she had never dared hope for – kind, patient, genuinely caring toward both her and Sophia.
