Page 11 of Never Kiss a Scot
Joanna bit her tongue painfully and closed her eyes, feeling very small and useless. Her own brother was trying to sell her off, and not even then would any gentleman take her. Shame closed her throat, and tears burned her eyes.
“If she wants to remain unmarried, that is quite fine. I’m all for women leading an independent existence if they so desire, but Joanna has always wanted to be in love. It’s so clear that she’s unhappy.” Her mother’s voice was closer to the shelf that Joanna hid behind now, and Joanna held her breath, afraid of revealing her position. The shame would only double if they discovered her eavesdropping.
“What if…” her mother began. “What if she were to marry Lord Kincade? He looked most bewitched by her. I daresay five dances is quite an indication of a gentleman’s interest.”
Joanna’s heart leapt with forbidden hopes. Had her mother seen something in Brock’s actions tonight that suggested he might actually care for her? Or was it simply in his nature to cause scandals and break hearts? She desperately wished it was the former, but how was she to know for sure?
“Gentleman? Have you not forgotten that he kidnapped my fiancée? In the middle of the night, no less, while I lay at death’s door?” Ashton’s tone was hard.
“Ashton, dear, you exaggerate. Death’s door indeed. And need I remind you that you kidnapped Lady Essex, before she became Lady Essex?”
Ashton snorted. “Godrickidnapped her.”
“Withyourhelp.” Their mother’s tone was full of amusement and a little judgment. Joanna wrinkled her nose, frowning. Ashton had indeed helped the Duke of Essex kidnap his future wife, and he certainly shouldn’t be casting stones when his own house was made of spun glass.
“Perhaps I’m mad, Mother,” Ashton replied. “But I don’t want to entrust my youngest sister into the hands of an irresponsible brute. I wasn’t old enough to protect Thomasina when she married Lord Reddington, and he had quite the reputation as a scoundrel back then. Thankfully, he turned out all right. But Lord Kincade? He’s irresponsible and reckless. What if Rosalind had fallen ill from tending to me after he and her other brothers had taken her? They were sleeping on the ground in bloody bedrolls. If she’d taken ill, without proper care, she might have died. I dread to imagine how Kincade would treat a wife.”
“Ashton”
“And don’t forget the state of the castle. It’s crumbling to bits. If Joanna were to live there, she would catch her death in winter from those drafts.”
Joanna took a chance to peer around the edge of the bookcase. Ashton was pacing back and forth by the fireplace, his coat discarded and his sleeves rolled up as he moved. Their mother stood close by, playing idly with the fan that hung from her wrist. Both looked upset.
Joanna scowled. She was the one who should be upset, not them. They weren’t the ones with no certain future ahead of them and no chance at love.
“Why do you think he’s a brute?” Regina asked, her tone quiet, more colored with worry now. “You think he’s like Rosalind’s father?”
There was a hesitation, thick and heavy, before Ashton responded. “I don’t believe so, no. But he and the others, they don’t seemcivilized. Aside from Edinburgh, Scotland is a land of deep forests, wooded hills, and rivers, populated by fierce people. Joanna is refined and cultured. What sort of life would she have there? She’d be lonely in that dank castle. No more balls, no more parties, no more society.” Ashton had stopped pacing now.
All of that sounded perfectly lovely to Joanna, but if Brock didn’t love her, then she couldn’t agree to marry him.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” their mother said, her tone soft with regret. “But if not Kincade, then who? I don’t want my child to be lonely. You have Rosalind, Rafe is…” Regina sighed and chuckled. “Rafe is likely to be a bachelor forever and quite content with that. But Joanna is like me, a woman who craves love. I simply want to see her happy.”
“As do I,” Ashton agreed. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and his shoulders slumped with the weight of his responsibilities as head of the Lennox family. “Come, it’s late, and we should both get some rest.”
“Yes. So much to do,” Regina agreed. “The wedding is the day after tomorrow, after all. Everyone is coming. And I do meaneveryone.”
Ashton laughed, and Joanna heard the warmth of it, and despite her own sorrow, she was glad. Ashton and her mother had finally repaired a broken bridge between them. Brock’s sister, Rosalind, had so much to do with that.
“Let’s hope noteveryone,” Ashton replied, still chuckling. “Mrs. Copeland doesn’t have the capacity of feeding the entire city.”
“Oh, hush, don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll take it as a challenge.”
Joanna heard the creak of the library door as her brother and mother exited. She stayed hidden awhile longer, her heart beating hard but slow, each sound echoing in her head. She gazed at the small yellow-and-orange flame wavering on the candle she held.
Was she lonely? She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but she was. All of her friends were married now, some even with babes on the way, but not Joanna. She felt frozen, yet she could feel herself aging every day with no husband, no children, nothing to show for it. Her friend Lysandra Russell was seemingly content to be alone. She was obsessed with astronomy and never wanted to attend any balls or dinner parties. Joanna’s passion was reading. Perhaps she could become a novelist, like Jane Austen and spend the remainder of her days writing books. That wouldn’t be so terrible, would it?
The memory of Brock’s mouth on hers, the mingling of their breath in the quiet darkness of the coach and feel of his large, strong hands touching her hips sent a swift, powerful flood of heat through her from head to toe. She wanted that, the wild fluttering excitement and the following heady, dizzying feeling of being in a man’s arms, but not just any man. She wanted Brock. She had to admit that to herself, even if nothing came of it. But could it? Had he truly been serious about proposing to her? Could she trust him, or had it been a ploy to woo her so he might bed her and look for another lady on the morrow to sate his lusts?
No…she didn’t think so. There had been a note of honesty in his gaze that seemed to tell her the proposal had indeed been real, if perhaps unplanned.
Two days. She had two days to decide what she wished to do.
Joanna abandoned her quest for a book, knowing that she would never have a chance to read now. She would spend all night running through every possible decision she could make about her life and her future. She blew out her candle, watching the smoke curl up from the blackened wick in ghostly tendrils. Then she headed up to her bedchamber with thoughts of Brock in her mind and the touch of his lips over hers.
She knew it was going to be a very long night.
5
