Page 80 of As the Earl Likes
“I can do that.” Min cast her eyes toward the ceiling. “My mother will be furious.”
“Or not.” Jo’s social status notwithstanding, she was also the daughter of her former lover. But Jo wouldn’t share that with Min, nor would she reveal her mother’s inkling that the duchess may have borne an illegitimate child. “Your mother is likely relieved to be rid of me.”
“True,” Min replied. “When do you want me to tell her about you crying off?”
“The gossip isn’t yet making the rounds here in town?” Jo asked. Min shook her head. “As soon as it does, I will begin telling people—mostly the patrons of the Siren’s Call, as those are who I mainly see—that I am no longer betrothed. Then you can tell your mother.” Jo brushed a hand along her cheek. “I’ll find a time to tell everyone else—our friends, I mean—about the scheme.”
“They will understand,” Min said. “I do. Despite my initial anger, I really do.” She laughed, surprising Jo. “Here, I thought I was delivering unpleasant news, but you’ve been expecting this.”
Yes, but what Jo hadn’t expected was how much it hurt. Apparently, she was not yet over her “tendre.” She began to worry that it would take much longer than she thought.
Perhaps even forever. The thought of Sheff with another woman made her ache. It also made her angry—at him and at herself. She should not have expected anything different. Especially since this had been part of the plan all along.
Couldn’t plans change? Jo had veered from taking over the Siren’s Call. What if she also decided marriage wouldn’t be terrible? Even her mother had endorsed the idea for the sake of having a child. But Jo didn’t want to marry Sheff just because she was carrying—if she was carrying. She would marry him because she wanted to. Because she’d fallen in love with a man who made her laugh and feel special, a man who cared for others and wanted the same thing she did: the freedom to choose for himself.
Except she wasn’t going to marry him. A change in the plan would have to be amenable to both of them, and he didn’t want that.
“I’m glad you came,” Jo said, hoping they would remain friends even after she struck out as an independent spinster, though she would understand if they could not. The hardest part would be staying friends with the sister of the man she loved.
Sheff set the letter from Jo on the table in the library where he’d taken tea after riding along the beach. It was the first letter he’d received from her. And almost certainly the last.
He should have written to her about the party and the gossip that had spread, but he’d been too angry and upset. Because he hadn’t been with any woman, let alone two. That hideous Mrs. Lawler—the very same woman who’d caught Bane and Miss Barclay in that compromising position nearly two years ago—had said she’d seen Sheff with two women in the garden.
It was precisely the kind of scandal that would ensure Jo was able to cry off with little damage to her own reputation. Except it wasn’t true. Mrs. Lawler, that meddling busybody, had seen two women attempt to gain Sheff’s attention. Apparently, she hadn’t seen him rebuff them and return to the house.
Naturally, the gossip had reached London, and now his fake betrothal was over. In her letter, Jo had confirmed that she’d heard about his activities and had already made it known that they would not be marrying after all.
The plan had reached fruition, just as he’d intended.
Why, then, did he feel as though he had nothing to look forward to, that his life had just turned…gray?
The duke came into the library, his hair damp. He wasn’t wearing a coat or cravat, but since it was just the two of them in residence, they’d both neglected to fully dress some days. Why bother?
“Did you receive a letter?” Sheff’s father asked as he sat at the table and helped himself to a biscuit from the tea tray.
“From my betrothed. Rather, former betrothed.”
The duke sat up straight, his eyes rounding. “She’s cried off?”
“Do you blame her?”
“She heard the gossip, then,” his father said with a grimace. “You must write to her and tell her it isn’t true.”
“It’s too late.” The hollow feeling in Sheff’s chest spread to his belly and to his extremities. “She’s already made it known.”
“She can change her mind.”
“She won’t, nor should she. People will pity her if she marries me, and Jo doesn’t deserve that.” Just as she hadn’t deserved people giving her the cut direct just because she’d had the gall to become betrothed to someone above her station.
“Nonsense. She’ll be a countess. No one pities a countess.”
Sheff glowered at his father. The man could not be that obtuse. Sheff chose not to argue with him.
“What else was in her letter? Or was that it?”
There’d been more, but Sheff wasn’t going to share it. She’d written that she’d talked to her mother about not taking over the Siren’s Call, and that they’d hired someone to become a manager, perhaps in the autumn when her mother returned from Weston. Jo had said she would be free to pursue her independent life, and she’d thanked him for making it possible.
He was so damned happy for her. And utterly despondent for himself.
