Page 22 of Joy to the Earl
“I didn’t even like the familiar, but I wasn’t picturing…this.”She gestured to the room, to their naked bodies, to the snow outside.
Douglas shrugged.“The worst outcome is that when you get there, you’ll change your mind and leave my house and my broken heart and you can go back to your old life.You’re a widow.You’ll risk nothing.”
“I’m a woman.I risk more than you.”
He acknowledged that with a lift of his chin, but said, “You think I’d let you suffer at all at this point?Even if you told me you never wanted to see me again, I’d work to protect you from any punishment society might try to dream up.”
In truth, Joy knew that no one who mattered would be terribly shocked by a wealthy widow having an affair with an earl.Such arrangements were known and accommodated, even if they weren’t discussed over tea.All she really feared was the mockery she could imagine: after ten years, she crawled back to his bed, long after he first set her aside.Or other equally cruel things.
“People will gossip,” she mumbled.
“People always gossip.What are you afraid they’ll say about my new countess?”
“You’re assuming I’ll marry you,” she said.
“Have I not been persuasive enough?I could keep you here a few more days.”
“Douglas!Marriage isn’t only about what happens in bed.It’s about finding someone you can live with, someone you want to be with for the rest of your life, someone who shares your values and your dreams, who laughs at your jokes…” She trailed off as he held up one finger for every point.
“We are a perfect match, then, Joy.All that,andwe drive each other wild in bed?It’s meant to be.”
“But the talk…”
“Forget what other people may think.The difference is you either let them talk while you’re happy or let them talk while you’re sad.What do you want, Joy?Which do you prefer?”He kissed her then, either to give her a moment to consider her answer, or to do his utmost to tilt her answer in the direction he personally preferred.
She stared out the window, to the brilliantly sunlit snow blanketed outside.Then she said, “I believe I would like to experience joy for a while.”
“So would I,” Douglas agreed, his breath warm against her skin.
“You are terrible,” she murmured.“Puns are the very lowest form of humor.”
“That is a lie perpetuated by those who are jealous that they didn’t think of the puns first.”He kissed her lingeringly on her throat.“Be with me, Joy.The way is clear now.Let’s waste no more time.”
Epilogue
Monday, 25 December 1809
Christmas Day
After spending all of ChristmasEve day doing nothing but what they wanted, Joy and Douglas rose very early (unlike the previous morn) and rode all day in his smaller, open carriage, which Douglas drove himself.Cullen and Wren had happily agreed to follow with all the luggage in Joy’s now-repaired carriage, and it was clear that the couple would not be too hasty about it.
Though the roads remained difficult, they were passable.Nearly everyone they encountered wished them a happy Christmas Day, lending a cheer that one did not ordinarily experience during winter travel.They stopped to eat lunch at a small church on the side of the road.The innkeeper of the Boar’s Head insisted on packing a hamper for them, since he said no one knew the state of things in terms of amenities on the road north.Secretly, Joy was certain that the innkeeper was just horrified that he’d accidentally compelled an earl to share a room with another guest, and to sleep on a couch instead of a bed.
After lunch, they continued on.The west wind bit as the afternoon wore on, but only Joy’s face was exposed, so she was quite comfortable.Douglas kept asking if she was cold, though, and finally she declared she would kiss him every time he asked, just to prove she was perfectly warm.
This development did not reduce the number of inquiries on his part.
The countryside grew hillier, and the sky was turning to twilight when Douglas announced that they were nearly there.Joy’s nerves sparked.After all, she was to going to the home of an earl, and meeting everyone in the home, including the only family he seemed to consider important: the son who might not even be his own.
Douglas squeezed her hand, somehow reading the tension in her body.“You’ll do splendidly, love.”
Douglas’s home was a redstone house of pleasingly symmetrical design, and a location perfectly chosen to capture the view of the little river valley not far below.Evergreen boughs twined around the ironwork of the open front gates.As they drove through, the distinctive jingle of the horses’ bells would alert anyone near of their approach.From far away, she heard an answering peal, though much lower.A church bell, chiming the hour, she surmised.
Despite all his reassurances, Joy was a knot of tension when the carriage finally pulled to a halt in front of the house, because two rows of servants stood there amid the flickering lanterns.And in the middle of them, right on the steps of the house, a young boy waited in perfect stillness.
Was he upset that his father didn’t arrive before Christmas?What would he think of her appearance?A strange woman was hardly a sought-after present.
Douglas got out of the carriage first and then helped Joy down.
