by Amy Atwell
As his lips moved to her ear and nape, Johanna found herself shivering against him. Now, she thought, now he would tell her he loved her.
His whisper penetrated her fogged brain. “We were made for each other, Johanna. End this mad quest, for your suitors may profess deep, undying affection, but they desire only your fortune. I, at least, won’t play you false.”
The proud moment shattered, Johanna’s chin tilted up. Without a thought, her balled fist connected with his chin, and snapped his head back. She withdrew a step and nursed her knuckles while Derek rubbed his bruised jaw in disbelief.
“I wish you were dead,” she said with conviction. She willed her shaking limbs to move and stalked from the room with dignity. She didn’t wait for her bonnet and pelisse, but let herself out the front door.
Derek stood alone in his library for a long time after Johanna left, berating his own stupidity. She’d rejected his proposal, she’d sworn she hated him and she’d admitted to favoring Worthing. Yet, even after all that, Derek had been fool enough to kiss her. His sole excuse was that when she’d said she wanted the freedom to choose her own husband, he’d had an irrational desire to have her choose him. He knew he shouldn’t have pressed her, but he’d needed to prove she still felt something for him.
He smiled ruefully and rubbed his chin again. She felt something—that was certain—though at the moment it was closer to hatred than any form of affection. Derek sank into the chair at his desk and tried to picture his life without Johanna. The bleak canvas filled him with disquiet.
Johanna and Worthing. The very thought repulsed him. Damn the man for involving himself in Johanna’s affairs. As for the wagering at White’s, Derek had torn the pages from the betting book that listed her name, and made his displeasure clear with the younger members—and some older ones who should have known better. But Worthing hadn’t been present to witness Derek’s gallant defense of his ward. Still, the man had no business repeating such tawdry details to Johanna.
Cushing entered the study and cleared his throat.
Derek glanced up with a sigh. “Cushing, I’m a fool.”
“Yes, sir. Paget asked me to remind you that Lady and Miss Sumner are still waiting in the drawing room.”
“Oh, yes.” Derek stood. Damn, he was in no mood to play the besotted suitor to Charis. Unfortunately he had no plausible reason for excusing himself from his duties as host, and so he followed Cushing to the drawing room where Lady Sumner beamed at him, and Miss Sumner never guessed that most of Derek’s thoughts were on another woman.
Lying on her bed in the house on Portman Square, Johanna’s pulse finally slowed to its normal rate. Then, without warning, tears spilled forth a flood of anger, frustration, disappointment and yearning. She muffled her racking sobs with her pillow and tried her best to stifle these unwelcome emotions. She hated him, she reminded herself. He’d had no business kissing her, and certainly not when Charis Sumner was waiting for him in the next room.
She needed to forget ever loving him, to wipe from her memory the security of being held in his arms, the thrill of his kiss. He didn’t love her, nor did he respect her. What he’d shown her today was the lust he’d explained to her in her youth. Let some other woman throw caution to the winds and share his bed. Johanna had her pride. Yes, responded her pride, but I’m not fooled. You’d cast me aside in a trice if you thought you could make him love you.
Johanna meekly acknowledged the truth of this, and set about seeking some bright side to the situation. Miserably, she decided, there was none.
Chapter 16
London, June 1815
If Johanna had thought attending the ton parties difficult before, following her fight with Derek it became unbearable. Pride forced her to continue the round of gaiety for she was determined Derek should never know she’d spent her tears on him.
Harry noticed the change and commented that her happiness seemed to have a vengeance about it. This drew him a withering look but no reply, and so he let the subject drop. He hoped Derek would tell him what had transpired between them, but his cousin only grunted the one time Harry noted how happy Johanna looked these days. When they met, Johanna and Derek spoke in icy monosyllables and parted company as quickly as decorum allowed, leaving Harry to mutter under his breath that the French court had less intrigue.
Their cold war lasted a fortnight before Rosalie caught wind of it and moved to take advantage of Derek’s lamentable failure to control the heiress. Losing that chit’s fortune was not acceptable. Eagerly, she cornered him at Almack’s. “My dear, we haven’t seen you in Harley Street all Season.”
“I’ve been busy.” He sipped his lemonade and wrinkled his nose.
She didn’t care for his look of distaste. “Is it true, these rumors I hear about you and the Sumner chit? She’s a fetching little thing, but somehow not just your style.”
“And what do you consider my style?”
“I thought you would prefer a milder looking girl—someone with less flash and more fortune. She seems an unwise choice when there’s an heiress available.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, forgive me, she’s your ward. Most awkward for you, I’m sure. Especially when the two of you can’t seem to be civil with each other.”
Derek set his glass down and folded his arms, his jaw tense.
“Did you think no one had noticed? How like you. It’s the talk of the ton. Everyone is wondering what you did to put her in such a rebellious mood. She’s walking the edge, and I believe she’ll do something outrageous any day. Why, there she is with Reed Barlow. Isn’t he Worthing’s cousin? They say Barlow’s the most handsome and charming man of the Season. Of course, he’s a younger son, but still, Johanna seems to consider him most eligible.”
Gritting his teeth, Derek did his best to ignore the pricks of her needling.
Rosalie fanned herself lazily. “Curtis is quite taken with her, too. He won’t confess it, but I know him. I’ve tried to steer him away from her, feeling you might have some interest in that direction yourself. Of course, if you don’t…” She allowed the statement to hang.
“Don’t hold him off on my account. Lady Johanna has demanded the right to choose for herself.”
She weighed his answer in silence. Finally, she nodded and left him in peace.
Derek rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension there. His head had been pounding all evening. He shouldn’t have come, for in his present mood, he was bound to say or do something regrettable. Watching Johanna’s carefree behavior only darkened his mood. She’d all but dismissed him from her life. His only consolation was that Worthing seemed in no hurry to pursue her. Still, whether it was Worthing or another, Derek feared he may have lost Johanna’s regard forever. Worse, he had no idea how to redeem himself in her eyes.
With little interest, he danced his obligatory dance with Charis. After his attentions to her these past weeks, he couldn’t cut her directly, but he was weaning her of his notice. He’d discovered that after getting past her nervousness, Charis could talk at length, just as her mother did. Unfortunately, neither Charis nor her mother ever had anything of interest to say.
He began the tedious process of departing, weaving through the crowd and chatting with his many acquaintances. It was nearly midnight, and Almack’s was teeming, so he might make it out the door in half an hour. He’d hoped to avoid another tête-a-tête with Charis or Lady Sumner, but both stood in his path. They alone delayed him twenty minutes and tested his patience ten-fold. He finally excused himself by saying he would be leaving for Ambersley early the next morning.
Johanna watched Derek leave from the corner of her eye as she whirled through a waltz in Curtis’s arms. The dance felt a little flatter after his departure. He hadn’t even bothered to speak with her tonight. I wish you were dead. Five syllables she wished she could take back, but she didn’t know where to begin.
The music ended with a flourish of strings, and Curtis conveyed her to the edge of the dance floor. “Wou
ld you like some punch?” he asked solicitously.
She nodded assent. His manners were impeccable, and he continued to surprise her with his humor and consideration. Had she misjudged him all this time? Had the barn fire been only an accident? Except someone had locked her in the harness room that day. Johanna strolled to an open window to catch the summer breeze. From the alcove, she overheard two familiar voices.
“Mama, why must he go to Ambersley now? There’s a balloon ascension next week, and I wanted to go with him in his phaeton so everyone could see us together.”
“Shhhh, my pet. There will be many other opportunities for that. Depend upon it, if he’s gone to Ambersley, it’s to ensure all is in order for his new bride. You must be patient and not breathe a word to anyone.”
Johanna’s darker emotions warred. There was jealousy, which she did her best to ignore. Then came a sickening frustration that Derek would marry that girl when Johanna couldn’t comprehend what he saw beyond her beauty. Then anger and outrage bubbled to the surface, for how dare he leave for Ambersley without so much as a farewell to the Coatsworths and herself?
I don’t know what I expected. We’ve barely spoken since that day. He’s entitled to do as he pleases, but why her? Derek married to Charis Sumner. It dimmed her mood as if someone had trimmed the wick of her candle—gone was the excessive flickering she’d been casting for the past fortnight.
~
The end of the week brought Aunt Bess a letter bearing the sad tidings of her cousin’s death. She and Harry were discussing travel plans when Taft announced a visit from Lady and Miss Emily Brindle.
“Show them up, Taft. I promised Lady Brindle she and I could have a quiet coze while you escorted the girls on a walk around the park,” she admitted to Harry. “We shall have to make our apologies, for we need to pack and be on the road as quickly as possible.”
As soon as Taft ushered in their guests and quit the room, Aunt Bess apologized to Lady Brindle. “I’m afraid the girls will have to forego their walk today. I’ve just received word my cousin passed away in Tunbridge Wells.”
Lady Brindle expressed her sympathy at once.
Aunt Bess nodded her thanks. “I haven’t seen him for years, you understand, but he had no family except Harry and me. His wife died years ago. Harry, Johanna and I will need to leave in the morning.”
“Then Emily and I will take our leave. Such a pity. Emily was hoping to get to know Lady Johanna better, but that can certainly wait.” Lady Brindle rose with a rustle of silk.
Aunt Bess stood with her. “Yes, and it’s such a shame to leave Town now, when I know Johanna was looking forward to attending the ball and fireworks display on Friday.”
“It’s not vital that she go with us to Tunbridge Wells, is it?” asked Harry.
“No, of course not. She won’t know anyone there. But I can hardly leave her here unchaperoned.”
“May I make a suggestion, Mrs. Coatsworth?” interrupted Lady Brindle. “I would be very happy to have Lady Johanna as our guest during your absence from Town. I’m sure Emily would be happy for the company, and Johanna could join our party for the fireworks on Friday.”
Emily clapped her hands at the notion. “Famous! Johanna, please say yes!”
Johanna looked at Aunt Bess, not sure whether to accept or refuse. She liked what she knew of Emily, a pretty and outgoing girl with a bright wit and friendly manners. At one time she would have been terrified of staying as a houseguest without Aunt Bess’s tutelage, but now she was curious to stay and keep watch on Charis. Still, her duty to the Coatsworths meant she should go with them, and she therefore deferred any decision. As if reading her thoughts, Aunt Bess accepted Lady Brindle’s invitation.
Later that afternoon, Lord Brindle’s coachman drove Johanna with Nancy and their trunks to Emily’s house. Johanna, who had never before had a female friend her own age, marveled at the speed with which she and Emily formed a close-knit tie. It was extraordinary to talk to someone who understood and agreed wholeheartedly with all her own thoughts and feelings. The two girls talked without pause.
“Johanna? Have you ever been kissed?” Emily asked one night. It was late, and they were curled up in their wrappers on Emily’s bed recounting their evening.
“Me?” Johanna squeaked. She’d been considering whether she could send a note of apology to Derek, and wondered how Emily had lighted on such a subject.
“You have, I can tell. You’re blushing!” said Emily. “Famous! I never even guessed. Are you in love with him?”
Johanna felt the flaming heat rise through her cheeks straight to the roots of her hair as she recalled Derek’s kiss. Even as she willed herself to shake her head, she answered, “I think I am.” Heaven help me.
“What’s he like?”
Johanna considered not answering, but it seemed harmless enough to share secrets with Emily in the security of the darkened bedroom in the dead of the night.
She recalled Derek as he’d been around the boy, Johnny. “He doesn’t have many true friends, but he’s devoted to the ones he has. He says he doesn’t like children, and yet he befriended a little boy and will risk anything to defend his sister. He’s patient and kind and gentle. He’s honest and righteous. He’s brave and sweet. And all he wants is a peaceful life.”
Emily smiled. “For a moment I thought maybe you were talking about your guardian, the duke, but those last few things don’t describe him at all.”
“No,” Johanna replied, for the Derek she was describing was not the duke that everyone else knew. “He’s someone I knew growing up.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
Johanna shook her head. “I haven’t seen him for years,” she said, closing the subject.
~
Two days later, Lady Brindle interrupted Johanna and Emily, their heads bent in discussion. “I’ve received a note from Mrs. Coatsworth that she and her son will be delayed in Tunbridge Wells a few more days. I hope you won’t mind bearing us company a little longer, Lady Johanna.”
“Not at all,” Johanna replied with all honesty. She missed Harry and Aunt Bess, but Emily and her family had made her feel welcome.
“You’ll still be with us to view the balloon ascension,” Emily said. The idea of a man sailing up into the sky had captured her imagination.
Johanna forced a smile but wished Derek would return to Town, even if it meant watching Charis sit in his phaeton with him.
The rest of the day crawled along, until she looked forward to the evening at Almack’s with anticipation—a first for her—as a way to escape her thoughts. She wore a dove gray silk, nearly silver in color, with a new pair of slippers that pinched her toes a bit. The late June evening had turned muggy following an afternoon of rain, but as they set out, the twilight skies appeared to be clearing, and she felt the soft warm breeze ruffle the single feather in her hair.
Almack’s glowed with light and laughter, and happy music poured forth from the small orchestra. Mrs. Burrell greeted them as hostess, and Johanna looked upon the sea of familiar mothers and daughters sprinkled with dandies parading like peacocks—many dressed as brightly as the raucous birds.
“Come girls,” Lady Brindle said, ushering them forward. “Let us find some chairs and a glass of punch for me, and then you may run along and dance your fill.”
Pinning the familiar mask in place, Johanna pretended to enjoy the next hour. She remained politely suspicious of the men who requested a dance. Had this one placed a bet upon her at White’s? Was the next hoping to apply to Derek for permission to propose to her? She was heartily sick of the topic of marriage, yet all around she witnessed the ritualistic mating dance.
Curtis claimed her for a reel, to her relief—another first. For the moment she could forget her woes and enjoy easy conversation. When the set ended, he escorted her to the punch bowl, where they met his mother, Olivia and—to Johanna’s surprise—Lord Worthing.
Lady Vaughan wore a smirk as bold as her garnet-colored dress b
raided with pink. Her raven hair was dressed high with an ostrich plume. Johanna had always thought herself tall, but Lady Vaughan appeared to tower over all of them except his lordship.
“It was so condescending of you to dance with little Olivia, my lord,” Lady Vaughan said. “She’s still learning her way through the steps. I hope she didn’t tread on your toes.”
Olivia’s lips tightened into a thin line.
“Not a bit,” Worthing said with a smile for the girl. “She was a charming partner.”
“Ah, Curtis, you found your cousin, I see.” Lady Vaughan’s smile faded as she recited introductions. “I thought you had gone from town, dear,” she said to Johanna.
