Page 21 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

“Do you want another?” Robert asked and gestured to her glass, but she shook her head.

“I better not. As I told you, I am not used to drinking. My uncle took laudanum on an almost daily basis to cope with the pain in his leg. It does not mix well with alcohol as you might be aware, so he did not drink and I refrained as well.”

“What happened to his leg?” Robert asked, relieved at the change of topic.

“He was out riding on his estate and came upon a few of his tenants who were cutting down trees in the forest. They were stacking the logs into piles, until they could transport them. Uncle Horace asked if they could use an extra hand; he liked to learn more about the work of his tenants, when he could, and they agreed.

“One of the logs slipped and my uncle got stuck beneath it. It crushed his lower left leg. I was only eight at the time and still lived with my father, but I heard afterwards that it had become infected and they had feared for his life for several weeks because of it.” Jo sighed wistfully at the memory.

“Was he able to walk?” Robert asked tentatively.

“Slowly and with a cane. By the time I moved into his estate, the whole house had been rebuilt to accommodate him so that he never had to use the stairs.”

“Philomena suffers with using the stairs too, if they are too steep,” Robert told her. It was not his intention to change the subject but to let her know that he understood.

“What happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking? Was she born that way?”

Robert took a deep breath. He did not like talking about what happened to Philomena, but he had brought it up himself, and he would rather that Jo heard it from him than someone else.

“She fell ill when she was five. From polio. Xavier and I were away at school, Maggie and Rafe were sent away as my mother and stepfather feared they would contract the condition as well. Like your uncle, she lingered between life and death for weeks.” He gulped at the memory and had to collect himself before he spoke. “Thornston had to open our letters from home, because we were terrified that it would be bad news.”

“How awful,” Jo muttered, her expression pained and far away. “For him as well. I cannot imagine not knowing whether I had to tell my friends that their sister had died.”

Robert tried to remember but could not recall that Thornston had ever shown any fear. He had been his usual unflappable self when he was handed the letters. But Robert knew now that it was a way his friend used to hide his emotions.

“I have never thought of it,” Robert mused quietly.

He should probably thank Thornston, next time an opportunity for a deeper conversation arose. Even though it was rare.

“But she did recover, as you can see. Except her right leg is partially paralyzed,” Robert quickly told Jo to turn his own attention away from the painful subject.

He took a gulp of his whisky and found that it was almost empty. He could feel the content buzz of inebriation in his veins and knew he should be careful now. Robert leaned back in the high-backed chair as if he might anchor himself to it and prevent any foolish actions.

“So, 20,000 pounds?” he asked to change the subject yet again.

Jo looked up with a surprised expression on her face.

“Your cousin mentioned that you have 20,000 pounds,” he elaborated.

“Actually, it is 24,632 pounds now. The 20,000 was what I inherited at the age of one and twenty. I have been investing it, remember?” Jo sounded almost defiant as she said the last part. Daring him to contradict her.

“Impressive,” Robert muttered. “Perhaps I should let you invest my money as well.”

It obviously put Jo at ease and she smiled.

“Perhaps I will accept,” she said and sounded almost flirtatious.

Robert’s instinct was to flirt back but knew it would not be wise. Unless he could take her to bed, he had no business flirting with her.

He struggled to think of a neutral reply. One that was friendly, yet not suggestive. It did not help that he had been drinking; it slowed his mind, made him overeager to flirt, yet uncertain whether he had misjudged his tone. By the time he saw the almost horrified expression on her face, he realized it was too late. Jo’s eyes were wide, her lips pinched, and her cheeks pink. She stood abruptly and rushed toward the door.

“I… well, I will retire now. Goodnight, Robert.”

Jo left the room in a hurry without waiting for his reply. Robert cursed out loud.

10

“Icannot believe this house,” Beatrice whispered in awe as Jo showed her into the sitting room on the first floor that seemed to be the one Robert used the most and the one Jo preferred as well. It was the most lived-in of the rooms she had seen so far.