Page 54 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

When they said goodbye to Thornston and climbed into the carriage, Robert could not help but send his friend an envious look. It was much faster to ride than to travel by carriage and with the many confusing feelings he had toward Jo, it might be easier. Jo was of course instantly able to pick up on this and asked in what he could only describe as a hopeful tone of voice:

“Would you rather ride?”

Robert sighed as he thought of what to say. He did not want to go through the bother of renting a horse, and probably not a particularly good one at that, since he had not written beforehand to reserve one. Not least to say what it would signal to Jo if he said yes.

“No,” he told her steadily as he closed the carriage door behind him, then rapped the roof to signal to the driver that they were ready to depart. “I would rather be in here.”

His last words made Jo gulp dryly, before she abruptly turned her head to the window and animatedly started talking about how different the landscape was here. Robert sat back and listened to her with half an ear, all the while wondering what was happening between them.

24

The house Helena had rented for them was lovely. It was built in light sandstones and situated outside of town but still within walking distance. It had a large garden with lots of trees, shrubberies, and flowers in bloom, and it was right next to the ocean. The air was fresh and clean, and Jo breathed it in as she opened the garden gate and hurried down the trail to the beach. The teal water glimmered below her, and the beach stretched untouched for miles.

She wore one of her old dresses, one she could fasten herself, and carried a shawl and straw bonnet mostly for show. In the kitchen, she took several fresh rolls and disrupted the morning order by asking for a leather flask of water. It took five minutes to find one, and all the while Jo listened for any sound upstairs that might mean Robert was awake.

When the flask was found, she had hurried outside, gratefully taking the small basket that the cook had prepared for her with a few pieces of fruit, more rolls and cold cuts of ham wrapped in linen.

The path wound through tough grass which was slightly damp from the rain last night. But this was the beach and Jo did not bother lifting her skirt; there was no one to witness if the hem got wet. Finally she was standing with her boots in the sand.

Jo inhaled deeply again as she looked at the beach in front of her. It was completely empty, although when she looked toward the city, she could see a few people there. They were too far away for her to hear or even identify, and she hurriedly turned her back on them and started walking in the opposite direction. She needed to be alone, to process all that had happened to her in the past fortnight but especially the last two days.

Her mind instantly circled to the conversation she had overheard in the dressing room early last morning. The one she could not banish from her mind.

“Did you hear that the duke slept in her bed last night?” Miss Fletcher’s whisper had been evident through the door to the dressing room. Jo had stiffened in her position curled against Robert’s side. She dared not lift her head to look at him, but his regular breathing told her that he was still sleeping.

“I know,” one of the housemaids had answered in a disbelieving voice. “Do you think they finally…?” The girl’s voice had trailed off suggestively. Jo had recognized it as Abigail, the one with the mousy hair and pointy nose.

“No,” Miss Fletcher had answered with glee. “Look, what I found. There is no blood.”

Both girls had giggled and Jo had felt herself going even warmer against Robert’s side than she already was when she realized what it was. The cloth Robert had used to clean her as well as himself when they had found each other during the night.

“Do you think that he… alone?” Abigail asked gleefully. “Or do you think that she…” Her voice turned up in both volume and pitch as she delivered this scandalous suggestion.

Miss Fletcher shushed her just as loudly, which seemed counterproductive.

“I don’t know,” Miss Fletcher answered while Jo started moving away from Robert, inch by inch, so as not to wake him. “I don’t understand why she is not sleeping with him. I know I would if he ever showed me any interest.”

“You know he was completely besotted with that Lady Egerton,” Abigail said in the voice of someone who had important news to share.

“I know,” Miss Fletcher said in the voice of someone being told old news.

“I cannot believe she married a prince,” Abigail said dreamily.

“A Prussian prince,” Miss Fletcher scoffed.

“I would take a French prince if it would make me a princess.”

“Traitor. And there are no princes in France. I think.”

There was the rustling of clothes. The women must be packing up the final items in Jo’s trunk. She was on the edge of the bed now. Robert was still lying on his side with his face toward her. He looked young and peaceful in his sleep. It gave Jo the urge to take care of him, even though she reprimanded herself that everyone looked more vulnerable when they slept.

She had been mortified to enter the dressing room aware that the two young women knew intimate details of what she and Robert had done last night, but it seemed better, easier at least, than being there when Robert woke up.

Suddenly, the girls’ giggles had made her unsure of everything they had done last night. It had felt so right at the time. Like they were finally on the same path, on the same page, and somehow the girls had tainted that.

Jo now bent to pick up a pretty shell and placed it in a secret pocket in her skirt. The wind was fresher here than up at the house and she drew her shawl closer around her shoulders as she looked out over the sea.

Lady Egerton.