Page 4 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
Joan thought about how skittish she had been for days before her escape. She had tried this once, to run away. But Uncle Benedict had caught her before she had gotten far enough, and he had locked her up for weeks, barely allowing her to have any food or water, until she “accepted his request”. And after that, she knew that there was no other choice left for her.
She had to leave.
“The alternative… staying would be worse. Yes, I am afraid, greatly so. But this is something I must do.”
To save my life.
The man nodded with an air of understanding. “ I wish yer grandparents a' the best. They're very lucky tae hae such a grand granddaughter. I hope they get better soon. Seein' yer ain kin in that state can be... quite difficult.”
His voice sounded a little shaky then, as if the weight of a burden only he carried was reflected in what he had said.
“You sound as though you know what that feels like,” Joan heard herself say, raising her wine to her lips once more.
He shrugged, the calm air that had surrounded them growing a little bit tense.
“Aye, mebbe. My faither... he died a wee while back. Livin' wi' him has been... a struggle, tae say the least.”
Joan's heart sank, hurting for this man before her. If he felt sad about that, he didn't show it, downing the rest of his drink and waving at the barkeep to bring him another. Quickly, Joan finished her drink and pushed her empty glass towards him.
He seemed amused by the action before he pointed to her glass as well, while looking at the barkeep. After more drinks had been brought to them, Joan couldn't help but ask,
“Were you two close?”
He nodded. “Quite. My whole family is. Or... we were. He did his best tae provide for us for a' thae years. An' noo I'm tryin' tae dae the same, but his shoes are... they're mighty big tae fill. I'm a Scot, ye ken, an' I'm awa' tae London 'cause I got a letter askin' for a meetin'. I'm prayin' it's a business deal o' some kind, 'cause I need money tae look after my family properly. They're a' I've got left.”
He was toying with something in his hand, and she couldn't help but fixate on the way his fingers tugged at the others. He noticed what she was looking at and followed her gaze, chuckling slightly as he worked a ring off his finger.
““This is a family heirloom that once belonged tae my faither. He was a Baron an' a Laird, an' he kent just whit tae dae at the richt time. He did teach me mair than enough o' whit I needed tae ken tae work it a' oot. But still, I'm quite uncertain aboot a' o' this. I dinna ken if I can truly live without him. I'm no' sure if I can afford tae make ony mair mistakes, wi' sae much at stake. My mother an' my sisters are a' lookin' tae me tae keep the family name strong, but I fear that everythin' I dae is fueled by false courage an' could lead tae nothing but sorrow,” he admitted quietly as he held out the ring for her to see.
It was a large gold ring, with a crest of a swan surrounded by roses and thorns. The piece of jewelry seemed so small in his large palm, but when she picked it up, she realized it was heavier than it looked. Joan couldn't help but wonder how much of it was the weight of the gold and how much was from the responsibilities it came with.
“I… I think you’ll make an excellent head of your family. You clearly care about them deeply. Even now, you are only worried that your actions might affect them if you make any mistakes. I don’t know many men who are that dedicated to their families. None that I’ve met, anyway. It is not in my place to speak about you or your past, but I think your family is fortunate to have someone as reliable as you are looking out for them,” she said, handing the ring back.
He took it from her gently, their fingertips brushing against each other as the ring changed hands. For once, Joan didn’t feel like recoiling from the touch of a man, and she wondered if it was simply because she’d had too much wine to drink.
For a moment, his hand lingered, fingertips just barely touching hers, and he muttered quietly,
“Ye sound as though ye wish ye had someone just as reliable.”
Joan let herself smile, just a little.
“Perhaps. Alas, it would seem I am fated to rely on myself alone.”
“What a heavy burden for such a fair maiden to bear,” he shook his head, his mood becoming lighter as he looked at her, light returning to his gaze. “It sounds as though ye need a knight, my lady.”
“Surely, you are not trying to offer your services. What happened to your desire to be mysterious? I thought that was more important than anything else?” she asked, pretending to be surprised.
Joan raised her cup of ale a little too forcefully, causing some of the liquid within to slosh out of it, spilling onto her hand. She sighed at her clumsiness, looking for her handkerchief but before she could find it, he had whipped his own out and began to dab her hand dry.
He almost seemed petulant as he shrugged and said while still cleaning up her hand, “Well, I dinnae see why I cannae dae baith, but let's just let sleepin' dugs lie, I suppose.”
His touch was warm and his grip gentle, but it sparked something deep within her. It made her strangely hunger for more touches, more warmth. He glanced up at her, his gaze lingering on hers for a moment, and for a moment, she thought he could see what she was thinking, and was horrified, for having such strange inklings at all.
“It is safer that way,” he added, smiling as he released her hand.
The small tug of the corners of his lips made her want to do anything to see it again, a reaction that confused her immensely.
Joan had never bantered with anyone like this before. Not even with her cousin Georgina. She did not have any friends either, so she often worried that she might not know how to properly converse with others. However, if she had done or said anything strange or inappropriate, the man before her seemingly had no qualms with it.
