Bewitched by the Bluestocking

by Eaton, Jillian

  “I met your half-brother,” she continued. “The Earl of Hawkridge. Do you know his name is Weston Weston? How peculiar.”

  Stunned, Joanna lowered her arm as hope fluttered feebly in her chest. She felt drained. Physically. Emotionally. Like a rag that had been wrung out too many times. But if she couldn’t have Kincaid, then maybe at least she could have this instead. It wasn’t everything she wanted. But it was something. And when a person was clinging by their fingernails, they’d be foolish not to reach for whatever was thrown at them. “You met my half-brother? What was he like? Did you by chance bring up Mother’s ring? Is he agreeable to returning it to us?”

  Evie gave a snort. “Weston is the most selfish, domineering, arrogant lout I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering. He absolutely, positively, is never giving Mother’s ring back.”

  Joanna’s hope sank like a rock where it sat, along with her heart, at the bottom of her stomach in a pool of bitterness and regret. “Then all of this was for naught,” she said softly.

  Their journey to London.

  Falling in love with Kincaid.

  Finding her birth father.

  It had all amounted to nothing.

  “But not to worry,” Evie went on brightly. “Because I have a foolproof plan.”

  “We cannot steal the ring.”

  Evie blinked. “Steal it? Don’t be absurd. I’m not going to steal anything.” Her eyes gleamed. “I’m going to marry Weston Weston, the Earl of Hawkridge.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Is that everything?” Joanna asked, bending down to peer under the bed. It was three days after the disastrous ball at Beresford Manor, and she and Evie were preparing to leave the boarding house once and for all…with two separate destinations in mind.

  Joanna was headed for the docks, where she would board a ship and sail home.

  Evie was waiting on a carriage to take her to Hawkridge Manor where she was to be Lady Brynne’s surprise guest at a month-long house party. The key word being surprise, for if Weston knew that Evelyn Thorncroft was on her way to his country estate, he would have undoubtedly barred the gates and dispatched the hounds.

  Joanna still did not know precisely how it had come to be. She had quit the ball early while Evie had stayed on. Sometime during the night, her sister had struck up a conversation with Weston’s sister (she really did need to get started on that family tree) and the two women had hit it off famously. The best of friends, Evie had gushed to Joanna when she’d finally made it back to their room at half-past two in the morning.

  “She’d love to meet you,” Evie had gone on. “Cousin Rosemary sends her best wishes as well. Apparently Sir Reginald the squirrel scurried out the door just as she was getting ready to depart for the ball and it took her over two hours to find him again. I say she should have let him have his freedom, but she really is attached to the little thing.”

  Now Evie took a final glance around the room, and nodded. “That is everything except for the letters you’d like me to deliver.”

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t want to forget those.” Reaching inside her bag, Joanna procured four letters. One for Rosemary, one for Brynne, one for Weston, and one for her father, the Marquess of Dorchester. She’d composed a fifth in her head for Kincaid, but she hadn’t been able to put her thoughts to paper. Not when her wounds were still so fresh. Her hurt too deep.

  It was why she was returning to Somerville, even though Brynne had extended the same invitation to her as she had Evie. But Joanna couldn’t stand to stay another minute in a place that had brought her such heartache.

  So she was leaving.

  This very afternoon.

  In the spring, she had every plan to return. By then, she was confident her pain would have subsided. And if she saw Kincaid, or even if she didn’t, it would not matter. Because she wouldn’t love him anymore. She wouldn’t feel this…this terrible ache in her chest anymore.

  In some ways, she was like an injured animal seeking a cave to shelter in until its cuts healed. Not that she preferred to think of it that way. She wasn’t retreating, or running. For once, she was simply making herself accept the full, unvarnished truth.

  Kincaid did not love her.

  He never had.

  And she would rather be alone than married to someone who thought of her as an obligation.

  There were some things about London she would miss. The sheer size of the city, for one. Every time she’d turned a corner, she had seen a new sight or heard a new sound. The food, while different, had been delicious (particularly the sweets). And then there was the work she had done for Kincaid. The work she had done with Kincaid.

  While sorting paperwork hadn’t suited her restless nature, she had immensely enjoyed questioning the maid, Abigail, and trying to fit all the pieces together to form a picture of what had happened to the Duke of Hanover’s mistress. Not only that, but she’d been good at it.

  Even if Kincaid had been reluctant with his praise.

  She wondered if she might not give detective work a go when she returned to Somerville. Not that the sleepy village was inundated with crimes, but things occasionally went missing and needed to be found, the same as any other place. She needed something to keep herself busy. Something to keep her mind off the detective she was leaving behind.

  “Drats,” Evie exclaimed when they had wrestled their luggage down the stairs and dropped it beside the front door. “It’s raining.”

  So it was. Somewhere between a mist and a downpour, water fell steadily from a gray, gloomy sky with even darker clouds on the horizon.

  “But your coach is here,” said Joanna, pointing out the window at a shiny black landau carriage, its top closed to guard against the foul weather.

  The sisters smiled sadly at each other.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Evie asked. “I can go with you.”

  “And give up marrying an earl?” Joanna said with a wry smile. “I think not.”

  “I am only doing it to get Mother’s ring. The second Weston proposes and slips the ring on my finger, I’ll be on my way home.”

  “That’s quite devious, even for you.”

  Evie pursed her lips. “Fair is fair. He took it from us, I am merely taking it back.”

  “While enjoying the life of a proper lady in the meantime.”

  “If you’re not going to, I might as well.”

  Joanna suppressed a shudder. “That ball was all I needed to know that the ton and I are a poor match.”

  “Well, I adored every bit of it.”

  “I am aware, as that’s all you’ve talked about for the past two days.” Smiling fondly, Joanna reached out and straightened Evie’s hat. “Enjoy your house party. You’ll have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand before the first week is done.”

  Evie blushed with pleasure. “Do you really think so?”

  “How could anyone not love you? I do.” With that, Joanna wrapped her arms around her sister. They rocked back and forth before breaking apart.

  Evie lifted her bag. “I can stay until your cab arrives, if you’d like.”

  “No, go on,” said Joanna, gesturing at the door. “Your driver is waiting.”

  She watched until the landau had turned the corner, and then tucked her old carpet bag under her arm and set off in the rain. The docks weren’t far, and she would rather not waste what little amount of money she had left on fare for a hansom cab.

  But after ten minutes of walking in the cold, damp wet, Joanna realized she wasn’t heading to the shipyard at all.

  Instead, she was a street away from Kincaid’s office.

  Faltering, she ducked beneath a canvas awning.

  Where was she going?

  Better yet, what was she doing?

  Her fingers curled, nails digging into her palms as her pulse began to race.

  She wasn’t giving up.

  That’s what she was doing.

  Because Thorncroft women did not settle.


  Dropping her luggage where she stood, she set off with a determined stride.

  By the time she reached Kincaid’s doorstep, her newfound resolve had waned, but it was still there, fighting its way through all the hurt and the heartache. Above her, thunder boomed and lightning slashed across a sky that had gone as dark as pitch. But the storm paled in comparison to the tempest within her.

  She knocked on the door. And when Kincaid did not answer, she began to pound.

  Without warning, the door was yanked inward. “It’s pouring. What the hell do you—Joanna.”

  She caught a glimpse of his amber eyes wide with shock before he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her inside. He brought her straight into his office, then whipped off her spencer jacket before all but shoving her into a chair.

  “You’re soaked to the bone,” he muttered. “Here, drink this.”

  She accepted the coffee. It must have been freshly brewed, for steam rose from the top of the cup in a plume of wispy smoke. She took a sip. Wrinkled her nose. “Before you hire another secretary, make sure she knows how to make proper coffee.”

  He leaned against his desk. Crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. “I am not going to hire another secretary. Joanna, what are you doing here? I thought you were leaving London.”

  “I was. I am.” She tried another drink of the bitter brew, then shook her head and put it on the floor. “What do you mean, you’re not going to hire someone else? If you let all of that sorting I did be for naught, I swear that I’ll—”

  “I could never replace you, Joanna.” His husky admission caught her off guard. “You’re irreplaceable.”

  A tremble worked its way down her spine. From the rain, she told herself. Just from the rain. “That’s not what you said in the library.”

  “Because I…what are you doing here?” he repeated.

  She looked at her lap, then boldly lifted her chin. “If someone is going to walk away, it is not going to be me. I love you, Kincaid. I hate it. I wish I didn’t. But I do. And I cannot leave until I hear you tell me that you don’t. That you don’t love me. That you don’t see a future between us. That you don’t want to be with me.”

  “Joanna.” In an instant, he was on his knees before her with his hand on her thigh. “Do you honestly think I was ever going to let you go?” He glanced meaningfully to the corner of his room, and she followed his gaze to a large, battered-looking, leather suitcase.

  Her eyes cut back to his in confusion. “You were…you were going to follow me?”

  “To the ends of the earth, if that is what it takes. I am sorry.” His grip tightened on her leg. “I am sorry I didn’t have the words then, but I’ve been practicing with James—”

  “You’ve been practicing with your cat?” she interrupted.

  “That damned feline is your most ardent admirer. Second only to me.” A crooked smile lifted the side of his mouth and melted her heart. “I love you, Joanna Thorncroft. I loved you the first time you stood on my doorstep in the rain, I love you now, and I will love you forever. Every strong, intelligent, beautiful, obstinate inch of you.”

  Her eyebrows pinched. “I don’t know if I would describe me as obstinate—”

  He silenced her with a kiss. A kiss that went on for a very, very, very long time. When it was done, she found herself sitting on his lap, her head tucked against his chest and her fingers entwined with his.

  “After what happened with Lavinia, I was afraid to fall in love again,” he admitted without reservation. “I saw giving yourself and your heart to someone as a weakness. A vulnerability. But what Lavinia and I had…it was never love. I wish I had understood that sooner. It might have saved both of us quite a lot of aggravation.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you think?”

  He nipped her earlobe, then drew it between his teeth to suckle as she sighed. “Behave,” he murmured, “or I’ll do what I should have done the first day you marched into my office and toss you onto my bed.”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  His chuckle warmed her neck. Then he sobered. “You are the daughter of a marquess. The granddaughter of a duke. Even illegitimate, you could have almost any lord you desired. I come from humble beginnings, Joanna. And while you will never want for anything, I cannot give you the life that could be yours with a nobleman.”

  “The only noble man that I desire is holding me right now.” She tilted her head and kissed him again. Long, slow, and sweet. “I don’t care for the ton. I understand why my mother left it all behind to seek a life of quiet normalcy in America.”

  “Speaking of which…” He slipped his hand free of hers to sweep a strand of damp hair out of her face. “Our luggage is already packed. The ship departs in an hour. We could go to Boston. I could meet your grandmother and Claire. I could ask their permission in person, rather than a letter.”

  Her temple creased. “Their permission for what?”

  “To marry you. Not out of obligation,” he said hurriedly when her lips parted. “But because I have absolutely no intention of ever letting you off my lap.”

  She smiled at that. “But your life is here, in London.”

  He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “My life is wherever you are.”

  “I would like my grandmother to meet you,” she agreed. “But Evie is staying here, at least for the time being. It probably makes sense for us all to sail together. At the very least, she is going to need someone to hold her bucket when she gets sick. Not to mention, you and I have a case to solve for the Duke of Hanover.”

  Kincaid’s brows arched above the thin rims of his spectacles. “Do we?”

  “Yes.” She blinked innocently at him. “I am your partner, aren’t I?”

  “I believe I’ve just had a position for secretary open up.”

  Joanna grimaced. “I refuse to do any more organizing.”

  “That’s all right.” He skimmed his mouth along her jaw. “I’m fairly certain you’ll be busy doing other things.”

  Gasping when his hands slipped to her breasts and his thumbs glided across her nipples, she squirmed against him. “I should like equal pay for equal work.”

  “Keep wiggling like that, and you can have whatever you like.”

  “Kincaid!” Squealing, she clung to his shoulders when he scooped her up and carried her upstairs…to a life filled with exciting possibility and a love destined to last forever.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now lives in Pennsylvania on a farmette with her husband and their three boys. They share the farm with a cattle dog, an old draft mule, a thoroughbred, and a mini-donkey—all rescues. When she isn’t writing, Jillian enjoys spending time with her animals, gardening, reading, and going on long walks with her family.