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“Of that I’m sure, Lady Joan. If you’ll follow me to the kitchens?”
Joan nodded and gave a little wave to Rowles before departing with the housekeeper to attend to whatever details needed her attention.
Rowles savored the sight of it, watching her begin her duties as his wife even before that was official. His mother had delegated most duties to the staff, and they were accustomed to running the estate. This would actually benefit Joan, he considered. Because she wouldn’t have to do more than she was ready for, she could gradually assume those duties she wished to do and delegate the rest to a very competent staff.
“She left five minutes ago, and you’re still staring at the door,” Morgan stated as he poked Rowles in the shoulder. “Should I be concerned? Or simply thrilled you love her that much.”
“The latter.” Rowles blinked, then met his friend’s expression.
Morgan lowered his voice as he spoke. “Have you told her?”
Rowles knew to what he was referring. He gave his head a slight shake.
“I thought not. She’d have laid into me had she known, but I wanted to ask. Tell me.” He paused and met Rowles’s eyes with a forthright stare. “Are you going to tell her? Have you decided on a course of action?”
Rowles took a deep breath. “I’ll tell her. I don’t wish for there to be secrets between us, and should she find out one day and discover Iknew, that will not go well.”
Morgan sighed and nodded once. “I understand. I suppose it’s for the best. I…”
“Yes?” Rowles encouraged him when Morgan didn’t continue.
“I looked for any documentation, in case she had questions, should you tell her.”
Rowles eyes widened slightly before he asked. “And? What did you find?”
“Very little, but there was a small blanket with a lamb embroidered on it. It was hers, but all other documents were destroyed, I’m assuming.”
“That would make sense, since your parents didn’t want her to know. Why is that, I wonder?”
Morgan shrugged. “I think it’s because they didn’t want her to feel like she was any less a Morgan because she didn’t share the same bloodlines as the rest of us. You know how the members of thetonare…and it could easily be an issue if a suitor”—Morgan speared a look at Rowles—“decided that a person’s pedigree was more important than the person herself. I think perhaps they wished to spare her that as well.”
“They obviously put a lot of thought into it.”
“Yes, my parents weren’t ones to take matters like this lightly.”
“Nor will I. I will take the utmost care when I talk to Joan.”
“Talk to me about what?” Joan asked, her brows furrowed as she searched a bookshelf near the door. “Mrs. Adams said there was a fantastic book that had different menus and recipes. Do you know which one she’s referring to?” Joan asked. “Found it!” She withdrew the book and glanced to Rowles, then her brother. “Wait…” she said, her head tipping like a sparrow.
Rowles could see it then, the way she read his look and shifted her eyes to her brother, who immediately looked away.Guilty, he thought as his friend avoided his sister’s scrutiny.
There was nothing for it. He wouldn’t lie to her or pretend they were talking about something else.
So much for waiting a day and having some peace.
No. Today he’d dive in and pray this revelation wasn’t as damning as it could potentially be.
“Joan, when you’re finished with Mrs. Adams, I’d like to take you on a tour and then…we can talk.”
Her sharp stare settled on him. “Why does that sound ominous?”
“It isn’t,” Rowles was quick to answer, and honestly, it wasn’t ominous, it wasn’t bad, it was knowledge. In truth, it changed nothing.
Joan nodded and took her leave, the wary expression never leaving her eyes.
Rowles watched her depart, his mind affirming that it changed nothing, her parentage changed nothing at all.
But while he was convinced he was making the right decision in telling her, just because it was right didn’t mean it was easy. Not at all.
