Page 85 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
“Not at all,” Joan replied, accepting the tea gratefully. “I was simply thinking about how blessed I am to be part of such a wonderful family.”
Mary's smile was warm and knowing. “As we are blessed to have you. Graham has been transformed since your marriage — I have not seen him this content since he was a boy.”
“He has transformed me as well,” Joan admitted. “I was... quite different when he found me. More guarded, more fearful. He has helped me become someone I never thought I could be.”
“Love has a way of bringing out the best in people,” Mary observed sagely. “Though I suspect you always possessed the qualities Graham recognized and fell in love with. He simply helped you see them in yourself.”
Before Joan could respond to this astute observation, they were interrupted by excited shouts from the children's direction. Looking over, Joan saw that a rather elaborate disagreement had broken out regarding the rules of their current game, with voices rising in the particular indignant tones that children employed when they felt justice had been denied.
“I suppose we should intervene before someone ends up in tears,” Joan said with a sigh, beginning to rise from her comfortable position.
“Allow me,” Graham said, already moving toward the fracas with the confident authority of a man accustomed to resolving disputes. “Children, what seems to be the difficulty here?”
Joan watched with admiration as her husband calmly mediated between the various factions, listening to each child's complaint with the same serious attention he might give to a tenant dispute or parliamentary matter. Within minutes, he had negotiated a solution that left everyone satisfied and the game resuming with renewed enthusiasm.
“He really is an excellent father. I believe he would do even better if you chose to have more children,” Margaret said quietly, appearing beside Joan with her own cup of tea and an expression of deep satisfaction.
Joan had to agree, seeing as they had already discussed the matter and had already begun trying for another child. Joan knew her days were about to be consumed by even more days like these and she was eager for it all, ready to embrace whatever came next.
“We plan on having several more,” she told Margaret in a secretive whisper.
Margaret studied her for a moment and smiled a little, the corners laced with mystery. “They might already be on their way.”
It was nearly an hour later when the gentlemen rejoined them, having concluded their own conversations about politics and business matters. Graham immediately sought Joan's gaze, making his way over to stand by her side as though he couldn’t fathom being apart from her for another moment.
His face lit up with delight as he settled beside his wife, his hand moving possessively to her waist.
“I swear you look more in love each time I see you both.” Lysander mock complained, before turning to Joan to say, “If he ever misbehaves, feel free to file a complaint with me. I will straighten him out.”
Joan laughed, patting Graham’s chest fondly.
“Do not worry,” she assured. “I am sure he will be on his best behavior, henceforth.”
The afternoon progressed with more games and spirited conversations, only to come to a head with the arrival of an unexpected guest.
Joan looked up from her conversation with Catherine who was advising her to begin nursery arrangements to see a young woman approaching hesitantly across the grass. The figure was familiar, though it took Joan a moment to place her — and when recognition dawned, she felt her breath catch in her throat.
Georgina walked toward them with obvious reluctance, her head held high despite the nervous tension visible in every line of her body. She looked pale and drawn, her clothing fine but not quite fashionable, as though she had fallen upon difficult times since her father's arrest and trial.
Graham was on his feet immediately, his entire demeanor shifting from relaxed to alert protector in the space of a heartbeat. His expression had gone hard, and Joan could practically feel the waves of hostility radiating from him as he positioned himself slightly in front of her chair.
“Miss Brooks,” he said, his voice carrying the kind of cold authority that had probably sent lesser men fleeing for their lives. “What brings you to disturb our family gathering?”
“Your Grace,” Georgina replied, offering a curtsy that was perfect despite her obvious trembling. Her gaze flickered brieflyto Joan before returning to Graham's forbidding countenance. “I... I have come to speak with your wife, if she will permit it. I know I have no right to request such a thing, given my past behavior, but I hoped... I prayed that she might grant me just a few moments of her time.”
Joan felt every member of Graham's family tense around her. They had not forgotten how she had behaved during their last meeting and as such, the young woman standing before them had every reason to expect a cold reception at best.
Yet something in Georgina's bearing — a quality of desperate sincerity mixed with genuine remorse — gave Joan pause. This was not the haughty, contemptuous creature who insulted her new family months ago. This was a broken young woman who looked as though she had been through her own particular form of hell.
“What do you wish to say to me?” Joan asked quietly, ignoring Graham's sharp look of disapproval.
Georgina's composure wavered visibly at the gentle tone of Joan's voice, as though she had expected hostility and been undone by kindness instead.
“I wish to apologize,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “To beg your forgiveness for my unconscionable behavior, though I know I have no right to expect such mercy from you.”
The words hung in the air between them, and Joan felt Graham's tension like a physical force beside her. She could refuse thisolive branch — could turn away and leave Georgina to face the consequences of her actions alone. Many would say such treatment was exactly what the young woman deserved after the pain she had caused.
But Joan found herself remembering her own desperate need for forgiveness, her own gratitude when Graham had chosen understanding over condemnation. Perhaps mercy was a gift that grew when shared, rather than diminished.
