by Bree Wolf
Johanna’s jaw began to quiver as her gaze swept over Lady Sawford’s kind blue eyes, not as bright and joyous as she remembered them, but with a silent strength that spoke of a tragedy suffered…and survived. Her husband bore a similar look in his eyes, and the way his wife's hand rested on his arm, his hand not only covering hers, but holding on, spoke of a deep bond.
“It is truly good to see you again, child,” Lady Sawford whispered, her other hand gently coming to rest on Johanna’s arm. “Don’t look sad. This is a happy occasion.”
Johanna swallowed, willing herself not to succumb to tears, and yet, it seemed impossible when she saw a faint shine moisten Lady Sawford’s eyes as well. “Thank you,” she whispered, not trusting herself to say more.
Lady Sawford nodded, exchanging a look with her husband. “We wanted you to know how happy we are for you. You deserve a wonderful man at your side, and we trust that you’ve chosen well.”
Staring at Owen’s parents, Johanna followed them with her eyes until they disappeared in the crowd. More than anything, she wanted to run and hide, be alone with the emotions that had flared up in her chest upon seeing them, but her feet would not move.
“Are you all right?”
Blinking once again, Johanna saw Caroline and Penelope standing in front of her, their faces blurred as they stood behind a curtain of tears. “I’m fine,” Johanna repeated for what seemed the thousandth time that night.
“No, you’re not,” Caroline insisted, her dark eyes sweeping over Johanna before she turned her attention to Brendan. “If you’d excuse us, my lord, I believe Miss Grey is feeling a bit faint.”
All concern, Brendan immediately offered to escort her away from the crowded noise of their engagement celebration.
Johanna thought she would suffocate.
Fortunately, watchful Caroline interfered. “There’s no need. Tend to your guests, my lord, and allow us to see to our friend.”
Though reluctant, Brendan nodded, his warm brown eyes lingering on Johanna for a moment before he turned back to his guests, his posture now tense as he wished he could simply step away and see to the woman he would soon call his wife.
Johanna felt ill.
How they made their way to the library, Jo did not know. Only when the door closed behind them did she look up and find herself alone with two of her most trusted friends.
“What’s going on?” Penelope enquired, her blue eyes misting over as she looked at Jo. “I’ve never seen anyone so sad at their engagement party.”
Wiping tears from her eyes, Johanna cleared her throat. “I’m not sad. I’m merely…overcome. That’s all.” Was that true? Johanna wondered. In that moment, she could not tell how she felt and why.
“It’s us, Jo,” Caroline reminded her, her voice gentle, but insistent. “You can tell us the truth. Nothing you say will leave this room. We promise.” She glanced at Penelope, who nodded her head vigorously.
Johanna swallowed, and then said the first thing that slipped into her mind. “Colin came to see me.”
A frown drew down her friends’ brows for a moment. Penelope recovered first. “Oh, you mean Colin Grenville, your friend from…” Her voice trailed off when Johanna closed her eyes at the mere mention of his name.
“What happened?” Caroline enquired. “What did he want? I thought you had not seen him since…”
Johanna nodded. “I hadn’t. When I returned home from Miss Bell’s, my grandmother told me that he had left England. I didn’t know he would return. One day, he…was simply there.”
“He came to see you?” Caroline asked, a touch of suspicion in her voice.
Picking up on it, Penelope could not hide a wide smile. “Oh, I knew it!” she exclaimed. “He came back when he heard you’d returned home, didn’t he? He came to see you because…” Her voice hung in mid-air as she waited for Jo to finish the sentence.
Licking her dry lips, Jo nodded. “He came to ask for my hand.”
“And you refused him?” Caroline asked as Penelope jumped up with excitement.
Unable to hold herself upright any longer, Johanna walked over to the group of armchairs settled in front of the large hearth and sank into one with a deep sigh. “I didn’t need to because he never asked me.”
“Why not?” Penelope demanded, a touch of displeasure in her voice as she and Caroline walked over to join Johanna.
“Because when he called on me,” Johanna began, a touch of madness tickling her mind at the thought of the mess her life had become, “I had just moments earlier accepted Brendan’s proposal.”
Penelope’s mouth formed a somewhat shocked “O” while Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “Do you regret your decision?” she asked. “Would you have accepted Brendan if you had known Colin…I mean, Lord Ashfield…wished to marry you?”
Closing her eyes, Johanna shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not true,” Caroline objected as her hand settled on Jo’s, squeezing it not with compassion but with challenge.
Looking at her friend, Johanna was at a loss.
“She’s right,” Penelope chimed in. “I know you’ve never said anything, but I’ve always thought that there had been something between you and Colin from the way you talked about him. Have you never admitted that to yourself?”
Staring at her friends, Johanna felt as though she was losing her mind. “How could I have?” she all but snapped, feeling close to breaking down. Still, the steady hand resting on hers kept her grounded and sane. And so, Johanna inhaled a deep breath and finally allowed all her barriers to come down as the whole story came pouring out of her. Her friends listened the way they always had with compassion and without judgement.
Johanna spoke of her childhood, of the guilt she had felt after Owen’s death, of the guilt she had begun to feel even before his death, of…Colin, of the way he made her feel, of how he reminded her of their loss…and of Brendan. Kind, generous Brendan, who deserved better than her.
Still, he had chosen her…and she had given her word.
“I understand what you mean,” Caroline replied, her shoulders slumped as she sighed. “It seems timing was not on your side. You cannot break your word now, can you?” Always so certain, Caroline now sounded in doubt herself, like Johanna torn between what was right and what felt right.
“Of course, she can!” Penelope interjected, her wide eyes suddenly narrowed. “Love trumps all. As hard as it might be for Brendan to hear the truth, in the end, he’ll be grateful.” She squeezed Johanna’s hand. “You cannot marry him if your heart belongs to another. That would not be fair. After all, yours was not a match of convenience. He cares for you, does he not?”
Fresh tears came to Johanna’s eyes. “He does,” she sobbed. “Heaven help me, he truly does. How can I tell him the truth? He’ll be devastated. He’ll hate me.”
“Yes, he will,” Penelope agreed, her voice gentle and filled with a wisdom beyond her years. “He’ll hate you, and he’ll have a right to do so. But he’ll hate you even more if you allow him to marry you and then years later he’ll come to realise that he wasted his heart on a woman who cannot love him. Don’t make each other miserable,” Penelope pleaded. “It’s not too late.”
“I think she’s right,” Caroline whispered as Johanna continued to stare at Penelope. “The truth is never the wrong course of action. It might be painful, yes, but it is never wrong.”
As all strength left her, Johanna slumped down into her chair, her mind drawn back to the moment she had said goodbye to Colin. He had asked her then if she thought Owen had loved her, and she had denied it with a vehemence that had surprised even her.
And yet, it had been the truth. Owen had never cared for her the way Colin had come to. He had been her friend, her best friend, but nothing more.
All of a sudden, Johanna could not help but wonder what would have happened if Owen had not died that day. If he had not died, then perhaps the moment would have come where they would have spoken truthfully to each ot
her of how they had felt. Perhaps knowing they could not make each other happy−not in that way−they would have gone against their parents’ wishes and chosen a different path.
Perhaps.
Johanna liked to believe that they would have. After all, they had been best friends.
A soft smile came to Penelope’s face. “You’ve made the right decision.”
“What?” Stumped, Jo looked at her. “How do you…?”
“It’s written all over your face,” Penelope whispered, a touch of a smirk on her own. “You forget I’ve known you for a good long while myself.”
Hugging her friends, Jo realised that for the first time in over four years she no longer felt torn. Certainly, she could not help but feel awful for what she would put Brendan through, but deep down she now knew that it would be for the best. Perhaps sometime down the line when he found a woman who would give him her heart, he would come to see that. Johanna could only hope so.
With her decision made, Johanna returned to the festivities, dreading the moment Brendan’s kind, brown eyes would fall on her. Still, she would have to bear it as there was no way for her to speak to Brendan tonight. Tomorrow, she would call on him and tell him honestly how she felt. She could only hope it would not shatter his world.
Brendan deserved better.
Chapter Thirteen − A Wrong Step
The hour was late when their last guests finally took their leave.
Johanna’s feet ached, but not as much as her heart did whenever Brendan smiled at her or whenever his hand took hers, gentle and protective. Guilt and shame grew in her heart, and a selfish part of her wanted nothing more than to share what she had finally realised that night and have it be over with.
But Brendan deserved better.
It was like a mantra that she kept whispering in her mind over and over, and it helped her to make it through the evening with her sanity intact−at least as far as that was possible. After the past four years, Johanna wondered if she would feel truly at peace ever again.
Tomorrow morning, she would take the first step towards that goal and see where it would lead her.
“Good night, Johanna,” Brendan said, smiling at her as he assisted her into the carriage. “Good night, Lord and Lady Rawdon.” His gaze drifted back to Johanna, so full of hope and joy that it sent jolts of pain through Johanna’s heart. “I shall see you tomorrow.”
A cool wind blew that night, and Johanna began to shiver, relieved to be able to drop her gaze. “Oh, no, I forgot my shawl.”
“I shall fetch it for you,” Brendan beamed.
“Never mind,” Lady Rawdon said, waving his concern away, but he had already darted back up the stairs to his front door. “That man is quite taken with you.”
Unable to meet her mother’s eyes, Johanna looked out the window, her gaze following Brendan until he disappeared inside his townhouse. Moments later, he reappeared, his mother by his side as they shared a few words.
Pulling her own shawl tighter around her shoulders against the chilling wind, Lady Kenwood stopped only two steps from the door, unwilling to step out into cool night air. Still, her lips moved, and Johanna saw Brendan turn his head toward her as he hurried down the steps toward their carriage.
What happened next would forever be imprinted on Johanna’s mind, just like the moment Owen had lost his footing and fallen off the tree.
Why Brendan tripped, Johanna could not say as the night’s dim light only granted her the barest of glimpses of her betrothed. It might have been the small puddle that shimmered slightly on one of the steps. Or it might have been that his foot came down on the edge of the step, offsetting his balance. Whatever the reason, the result was the same.
One moment, Brendan was smiling, his body upright and full of life, and the next, he was tipping over, sailing down the steps in a deadly angle before his head met the pavement not far from where their carriage stood waiting.
Unable to believe her eyes, Johanna stared at him, barely aware of his mother’s screams, before her gaze fell on her shawl as the wind tugged on it, freeing it from Brendan’s grasp and carrying it away on a cool night’s breeze.
Chapter Fourteen − A Natural Consequence
Holten Park, Summer 1817
Three Years Later
Standing below her window, Johanna glanced up at the tall ash tree, its thick, sturdy branches leading all the way up to her chamber.
Ever since she had returned to Holten Park three years ago, Johanna had thought about cutting it down more than once as it seemed to have become a constant reminder of the past. And yet, she had not for a part of her felt it only reminded her of the two young men whose lives had been lost because…
…because of her?
After about a year of hiding out in the country and mourning the two men who should not have left this world so soon, those around Johanna had begun to urge her to return to town and continue her life. To attend balls and look for a husband.
The thought had scared Johanna nearly witless.
While her mother feared she might before long be on the shelf, Johanna had concluded−when that had happened she could not say−that she would never marry.
Her friends had been shocked to hear her say so. All of them had found true love by then and happiness in their respective marriages, and all longed to see Jo equally happy. Still, Johanna knew that it was not meant to be.
Had she not been betrothed twice, only to see those men die before her eyes? Did all of London not refer to her as cursed, whispering about the poor men who had found their deaths because they had entered into an engagement to her?
Although neither her mother nor grandmother had spoken to her of those things, gossip had a way of reaching those it hurt the most. At first, Johanna had retreated to her chamber, crying her eyes out as guilt had reclaimed her once more. Over time, acceptance had settled in, and oddly enough, after a while, she had found a certain measure of peace.
Still, her grandmother had been the most vehement to argue with her. “You cannot truly mean to remain here for the rest of your life? You’re still young. Do you not wish to have children? To fall in love?”
Unbidden, an image of Colin had entered Johanna’s mind at her grandmother’s inconvenient reminder, and Johanna could not deny that the thought of him still affected her. It had been three years since they had last seen each other, and yet, the memory of him was still as fresh in her mind as though it had only been a day.
Still, Johanna did not dare reach out to him.
“None of this was your fault,” her grandmother had pointed out countless times. “You did not cause their deaths.”
“I know,” Jo had replied, and she had meant it.
Although an echo of guilt remained−how could it not? −something her mother had once said had helped Johanna understand the truth. Years ago, upon one of their first breakfasts in town, Lady Rawdon had said, Nothing is without consequence. And while Johanna acted wrongly, she is no more to blame for poor Owen’s death than I am.
Back then, Johanna had not been certain what precisely her mother had meant to say with that. But later, speaking to her grandmother had helped her realise that no one was indeed an island, that all lives were connected in some way and, thus, influenced one another. Deeds had consequences, nothing more.
Only too well did Johanna remember how Lady Kenwood had spoken to her son when he had hastened down the steps. Was Brendan's mother to blame because she had distracted him? Was Brendan to blame because he had not paid heed to where he had stepped?
As her eyes swept over the old tree, Johanna sighed. If Lady Kenwood had known she would distract her son, she would have sewn her lips shut. If Brendan had known he would fall, he would not have offered to retrieve her scarf.
If only…
People made mistakes, and as long as there was no bad intention, fault could not be assigned. Should not be assigned, for no one could predict the future. All anyone could ever do was live their life.
Of course, that had prompted Grandmamma Clarice to argue that Johanna ought to do more with her own, that she ought to write to Colin and ask him to return to England. She had even threatened to do it herself when Johanna had refused.
Still, Johanna had remained steadfast for a small part of her−a part that knew no reason, no logic, no sense−feared that the whispers might be true.
That she was cursed.
That these men had died because of her.
That Colin would be in danger if he were to return and ask for her hand.
And that Johanna knew she would never allow to happen.
Never.
Chapter Fifteen − One Day in Paris
“It looks like you’re packing,” Colin observed as his gaze swept over the open armoire and packed bags set around Robert’s apartment in Paris.
Grinning, Robert Dashwood, Viscount Norwood, nodded. “That’s because I am,” he replied, sitting back in his favourite armchair, his long hair tied in the back and draped on one shoulder, a glass of brandy in his hand.
Colin shook his head, unable not to return his friend’s grin. Robert did indeed look like a pirate, especially with that wicked gleam in his eyes! He was a bit of an odd man, but a true friend…if the past three years were anything to judge him by. “Where are you headed?”
“Home.”
Colin paused in the middle of seating himself across from his friend. “Home?” he all but croaked, then fell back into the seat. “You mean, to England?”
Chuckling, Robert nodded.
“Why?” Colin swallowed as any thought of England always brought back thoughts of Jo. Thoughts he ought to have banished long ago but could not seem to ban from his mind.
“Why don’t you join me?” Robert suggested without answering Colin’s question. “I’d love a travelling companion, and you’re not half bad.” Again, that wicked gleam came to his eyes as though he had just suggested something utterly scandalous.
By now, Colin knew that it was simply Robert’s way of teasing those around him, and it was best to act as though one had not even noticed. “I told you I won’t return to England,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “Ever.”
