Page 50 of The Duke's Goddess

She swallowed.

That was harder for her to accept. She cherished her sisters and didn’t want to upset them. And surely, this would upset them, making herself ineligible to marry, therefore nulling her participation in the duke dare. Her scandal would sully their reputations as well. But sadly, this decision couldn’t be about them. This was the one time that Joan was acting recklessly and completely for herself. The mixture of emotions dousing her asthe aftermath of her decision started to settle was vexing. She thought she would have peace if she were to make the best decisions for herself.

James lightly held her upper arms and peered into her face. “Joan, think about the scandal. Think about your future. You will have no offers for marriage. Take my hand. I’m doing the honorable thing. Let me.”

“I cannot.” She gazed up at him for one last minute, memorizing his face. He seemed to be doing the same, scanning her face. Searching for answers that she couldn’t give him. He didn’t truly want her. If he did, he would have said that. It was the perfect opportunity to have changed his mind about marriage and love. But he had said nothing. It was patently clear that nothing had changed inside of his heart. A heart that she knew she loved. She hoped could love her. But apparently could not. He was nothing she had wanted, yet had turned into everything she needed. Even still, he would never feel the same about her.

When she looked away, she whispered, “Please go.”

And to her profound dismay, he did.

Chapter 18

“The greatest battles in life are fought with a burning passion within.”

—Joan of Arc

Two Days Later

JAMES SAT IN WHITE’S for the second evening in a row, drinking away…something. He didn’t reference it as sorrows, though some might.

Since the house party, andthe incident,he wasn’t able to shake a sense of ennui. Dread. Gossip was already starting to spread, and James hated that he could do nothing to ease Joan’s pain. For surely she was experiencing a deluge of depressing emotions.

“What are you drinking?” Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

James held up his glass. “Open your eyes, and you’ll see that it’s whiskey.”

“Ooooh, the duke is snarling tonight,” Sam plunked himself down in the seat beside James while Chris took the other side of him.

“I’m not snarling,” James growled.See? Not snarling.He patted himself on the back. “What are you two doing here?”

“It’s our club, isn’t it?” Sam volleyed.

“Care for a game of piquet?” Chris asked while tapping a deck of cards.

“That’s the absolute last thing I feel like doing tonight,” he snarled.Damn it.

“Fine.” And James thought Chris was going to sit back and stay quiet. Like he usually did. But he didn’t. He sat on the edge of his seat and narrowed his gaze at James. Then he reached over and grabbed James's collar, pulling him forward so that they were eye to eye. “But if you think that for one second I’m going to sit back and let you destroy your life, you’re wrong. I will not be a passive participant in this asinine behavior.”

James struggled to free himself, but Chris held him tight. “What the devil is wrong with you, Chris?”

“Me?” Chris, the quiet one, threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “You’re an absolute idiot, James. And I’ll not let you sink to my—to this level. You love her.”

“Who?” At this point it was ridiculous to play dumb, but James did it anyway.

“Don’t.” Chris shook him. “Don’t mess up your whole sodding life, you bastard.”

“Whoa—” Sam cut in.

“I’m not finished.” Chris glared at him. “This ass of a man better step up and do something to win her back, or we are going to be nursing his wounded heart—no, his broken heart—for the rest of our lives.”

That shut Sam up. For a minute. Then he looked at James and clamped his large palm on his shoulder. “Chris is right, James. You need to do something. We’ve seen how you are with Joan.” James felt Sam’s grip tightening, as if to force the truth into his thick skin. “She’s the one for you.”

James felt as though he was floundering. He felt something for Joan. Not that he would call it love. No. Love still didn’t exist. But she had brought a warmth into his life. Holding her on the dance floor. Laying next to her. Feeling her skin on his. Kissing her. Coming with her. He wanted more. More of her and none of anyone else. And that…well, that was new.

But he couldn’t admit it. She had already rejected him. And he knew enough about rejection to appreciate that the earlier one accepted it and moved on, the better one was. Just as he had learned from his own parents. The ones who were supposed to love him the most. They had rejected him. In a despondent, numbing way. And it took eighteen years for him to accept it. Once he had accepted it, he could finally move on. To hell with them. He didn’t need them. He was his own man and always would be. He didn’t belong to anybody.

And now Joan had rejected him too. And it didn’t matter. She didn’t matter.

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