Page 79 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
Joan’s eyes filled with tears, though she did not let them fall. “Because I have lived my entire life believing that no man could truly want me for unselfish reasons. My uncle made that quite clear from the time I was barely more than a child.”
The mention of Benedict Brooks sent a familiar surge of rage through Graham, but he forced himself to remain silent, to let Joan speak freely without interruption.
Now that she had begun to bare her heart and soul to him, he did not want to do or say anything that would discourage her.
“Uncle Benedict’s… his thoughts and feelings for me were never about affection or genuine desire,” her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “They were about power, about control, about having something that belonged to him to do with as he pleased. I was only the replacement for my mother, who he did not get to keep by his side forever.”
Graham’s hands clenched into fists against his thighs. Even now, days after Benedict’s official arrest, the cretin still filled Graham with such loathing and he wished he had ended the man’s life when he had the chance.
“When you found me that day in the park, I believed that your discovery of Sophia would lead you to want to monopolize her,” Joan continued, “And when you proposed marriage to me at the ball, I convinced myself that it could only be about Sophia. That you wanted our daughter close to you — which was perfectly natural and right — and that you were willing to tolerate my presence to achieve that goal. At least long enough until you had won her affections completely and could do away with it sending me away.”
“Tolerate,” Graham repeated, his voice flat with disbelief. “You thought I was merely tolerating you. And you believed —”
Joan nodded miserably. “It seemed… logical. Practical. What else could explain your interest in a woman of no family, no fortune, no social standing? I told myself it was enough — that I could be content with a marriage of convenience if it meant security for Sophia and myself.”
Graham felt as though she had struck him physically. To know that she had been thinking such things, believing such lies about his motives, while he had been falling deeper in love with her each day…
“But I was wrong,” Joan said, her voice suddenly fierce with conviction. “So completely, utterly wrong. You have spent months showing me in so many different ways that your feelings were completely genuine, and I... I was too frightened to believe it could be real.”
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes still holding back tears somehow, but also filled with something that looked like hope. “You have broken every wall I built around my heart, Graham. Every defense I put together to protect myself from disappointment and pain. You have been patient with me when I gave you no reason for patience, kind when I responded with suspicion, generous when I offered you nothing but wariness in return.”
She paused, clearly struggling with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her composure. “For months now, you have voiced your feelings to me, have done your best to show how much you care for both Sophia and me. In return, I have questioned your motives, doubted your sincerity, and finally accused you of the most mercenary behavior imaginable.”
A tear finally escaped to roll down her cheek, and Graham felt his resolve break and he reached out to wipe it away, distressed to see her looking so sad.
“I have been such an ignorant fool,” Joan whispered. “I let my uncle’s poison infect my thinking so completely that I could not recognize genuine love when it was offered freely. I nearly destroyed the most precious gift I have ever been given because I was too afraid to believe I deserved it.”
The silence that followed was heavy with years of misunderstanding and carefully hidden pain. Graham stared at Joan, taking in every detail of her face—the way her lower lip trembled despite her efforts at control, the brightness of her teary eyes, the vulnerable set of her shoulders that spoke of a woman laying herself completely bare.
“It might sound pathetic and I hope I am not too late but… When I thought I might lose you — when I saw the pain in your eyes after I made those terrible accusations — I realized that my fear of being hurt was nothing compared to the agony of losing you entirely,” Joan explained quietly, almost as though she was afraid of disturbing the air between them.
She moved closer then, sinking to her knees on the edge of the blanket so that they were nearly at eye level.
“I realized that I…” She drew a shuddering breath, as though the words she was about to speak required every ounce of courage she possessed. “I love you, Graham. I love you so desperately, so completely, that it terrifies me more than anything else in this world ever has.”
The words hit Graham with full force. For months, he had dreamed of hearing her say those words, had hoped and prayedthat someday she might feel even a fraction of what he felt for her. Now, hearing them spoken with such raw honesty, such obvious vulnerability, he felt as though his heart might burst from his chest.
“I love you,” Joan repeated, her voice growing stronger with each word. “Not because you are Sophia’s father, not because of what you have to offer, but because you are the most honorable, generous, wonderful man I have ever known. Because when I am with you, I feel complete in a way I never imagined possible. Because the thought of a future without you in it is more than I can bear.”
Graham stared at her for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her face illuminated by the warm streams of sunlight, her eyes bright with love and hope and terrifying honesty. Then something tight and painful in his chest finally released, and he reached for her with hands that trembled slightly with the force of his emotion.
“Joan,” he said roughly, gathering her into his arms as she fell willingly into his embrace. “My darling, silly, wonderful Joan.”
When their lips met, it was with all the passion and tenderness of their previous kisses combined with the deeper understanding they had fought so hard to achieve. Graham tasted salt and realized that both of them were crying — tears of relief, of joy, of love finally acknowledged and returned. His hands tangled in her hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingers as he brought her closer to him.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Graham rested his forehead against hers, his hands framing her face as though she were something infinitely precious and fragile.
“I love you too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the conviction of a sacred vow. “God, Joan, I have loved you since that first night at the inn. I have never stopped loving you, not for a single moment of a single day.”
Joan’s laugh was watery but genuine, a sound of pure joy that made Graham’s heart soar higher than it had in days. “Truly? Even when I have been such a stubborn, mistrustful creature?”
“Especially then,” Graham replied, brushing away her tears with gentle thumbs. “Your caution, your wariness — they were born of pain and betrayal, not malice. How could I fault you for protecting yourself when the world had given you every reason to expect the worst from those who claimed to care for you?”
“But you never gave me reason to doubt,” Joan protested. “From the very beginning, you have been nothing but kind and patient and?—”
“And you have been healing,” Graham interrupted firmly. “Learning to trust again after years of abuse and neglect. Did you think I expected you to simply forget your past the moment you spoke marriage vows? Love is not so simple, Joan, nor should it be.”
She searched his face as though looking for some sign of deception, smiling when she found none. “When you said you searched for me for five years… you truly meant it?”
