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Thirty-two
If I am not, may God place me there; if I am, may God so keep me.
—Joan of Arc
It was a lesson in self-control for Joan as she patiently worked with Mrs. Adams to organize the wedding breakfast, rather than rush through the planning to get to the bottom of whatever was being discussed in the library in her absence. Whatever it was, it truly didn’t change anything…for Rowles. But that made her still wonder if perhaps it changed something for her.
“And we will, of course, serve champagne,” Mrs. Adams added.
“Yes, thank you,” Joan replied with a determined tone. “I think this is going to be perfect. Thank you for all your assistance.”
“It’s my pleasure. The late duchess, God rest her soul, didn’t involve herself with many matters in the house. It’s a delight to have company and set our minds to tasks we haven’t had the pleasure to tend to for years.” Mrs. Adams clapped her hands once. “We will truly make every effort to assist you, my lady.”
“I believe it, and you, Mrs. Adams. Thank you.” Joan gave her a warm, heartfelt smile. How difficult it must have been to attend to a bachelor house with a duchess who needed constant care and watching.
Joan rose and quit the small sitting area beside the kitchens, then took the stairs to the main floor. She approached the library quietly, hoping to eavesdrop on any current conversation. Perhaps she might pick up a clue as to their earlier discussion. But the library was silent, and with a frown, she surveyed the room.
“My lady, the duke is in his study,” a footman explained as he bowed upon entering the library.
“Thank you,” Joan answered, following the footman’s lead down the hall and taking the opportunity to study her environs. The home was lovely, furnished sumptuously but also tastefully, grand yet not so grand it was cold. She approved of all she saw. She tried to imagine herself as the duchess, her heart bursting at the thought. As beautiful as the house was, she truly found the most joy in knowing with whom she would share the home.
Rowles.
As if thinking his name had also voiced it, he looked up the moment she stepped into his study. “Ah, Joan. Thank you.” He nodded to the footman, dismissing him. “Morgan and I are finishing up the signatures needed for the marriage settlement.”
“The wedding breakfast is all planned as well,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I must say, we are accomplishing much today.”
“Indeed we are!” Rowles agreed. “And with your brother’s permission, I’ll take you on that promised tour. Mrs. Adams will act as a chaperone, if that’s satisfactory?”
“It is indeed,” Morgan replied. “I’ll see you tonight, Sister.” He gave Joan a quick wave and took his leave.
Rowles sent for the housekeeper, giving Joan a precious few moments in privacy with him. Her body was at war with her mind over what to spend those precious moments doing. She wanted to kiss him, feel his arms around her, banded and strong, while her mind whispered that now was a good time to ferret out any secrets he wished to share. Torn, she took a step toward him, but didn’t know how to begin.
“First, I think it would be wise to show you to your rooms,” Rowles cut in before she could make up her mind. “And then I’d love to show you every inch of my home, hoping you’ll love it as much as I do.” Rising from his place behind his desk, he came to stand beside her. Wrapping his warm hand around hers, he pulled her in tightly and held her. With his chin resting upon her head, she could hear and feel his heart beating, and that soothed her soul.
“I love you,” he whispered softly into her hair, then kissed the top of her head. “More than anything.”
Joan melted at the sound of his voice. “I love you too,” she whispered into his chest, speaking the words directly to his heart. “But I confess, I’m a little afraid.”
He pulled back slightly, enough to read her expression. “Of?”
Joan glanced down, studying a button on his chest. “Of whatever had Morgan refusing to look at me.”
“Did you ever consider that it has more to do with his fear than yours?” Rowles asked, using a finger to lift her chin up so her eyes met his.
She blinked. “No.”
“Sometimes we react more to our own fears more than to anything else,” Rowles answered. “And all in good time. We will talk, but not now when I have limited time before my housekeeper walks through the door.” He softened his tone.
“I suppose that’s wise,” Joan conceded.
“I have my moments,” Rowles added sagely.
Joan swatted him playfully and took a step back as the housekeeper came into the study. “A tour?” she asked.
“Indeed.” Rowles shared a smile with Joan, one that calmed her fears a little. If he was at peace with whatever it was, shouldn’t she be as well?
He offered her his arm, and she placed her hand on his jacket as he led them from the study into the hall. The housekeeper tagged along behind.
