“What right,” Joan said, her voice cutting through the room like ice, “did you have to intervene in my marriage arrangements?”
Damian’s head snapped back as though she’d slapped him. “What right? Joan, you can’t be serious. ”
“I am entirely serious.” Joan kept her tone stern, authoritative, the voice she’d used when scolding them as children. “I am well past the typical marriage age. Most women my age have been married for years. Julian Hawthorne is an earl offering me his name and protection. It is an honor.”
Damian laughed, it was a disbelieving sound. “An honor? The man is a scam! ”
She looked directly into Damian’s eyes, saw the anguish and confusion there, and forced herself to remain cold.
“This is the first time I have ever asked anything of you, Damian. Are you truly going to say no?”
“Joan, please.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do this. There has to be another way.”
“I’ll marry him.”
Victoria’s voice, small and broken, came from behind them. Joan turned to see her sister standing, her face streaked with tears but her expression resolute.
“No, you will not,” Joan began.
But Victoria crossed the room and slowly, deliberately, sank to her knees before Joan. Her hands reached for Joan’s skirts, clutching the fabric with trembling fingers.
“This is my fault,” Victoria whispered. “All of it. I made such a fuss over Julian’s infidelity, I ran away like a coward instead of accepting my duty. I’ll marry him, Joan. I’ll do it. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for my mistakes.”
Joan felt tears burning behind her eyes, hot and desperate and threatening to spill over. She blinked them back furiously.
No. I cannot show weakness. Not now.
“You will stay here,” Joan said coldly, looking down at her sister’s bowed head. “You will help run the school. I’ll speak with Timothy about finding volunteers, and once the school is stable, you may return to London if you wish.”
But not until after the wedding, Joan thought. Not until I’m safely married to Julian and he has no reason to pursue you anymore.
Victoria’s grip on her skirts tightened. “Joan, please, I’m begging you.”
“Let go of me.”
“I can’t let you do this.”
Joan yanked her skirts free with enough force that Victoria lost her balance and fell sideways. Damian immediately moved to catch their sister, helping her up while shooting Joan a look of pure betrayal.
Joan hardened her heart against it. Against all of it.
“Stay away from me if you’re going to sob,” she said, her voice like winter frost. “I have no patience for that.”
She turned to Damian. “The wedding will be held three days from today. Do you understand?”
Damian held Victoria against his chest, his jaw clenched so tightly Joan could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “You’re making a terrible mistake.”
“That’s my decision to make.”
“Joan-”
“Do you understand?” Joan repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Or do I need to travel to London myself?”
The threat worked. Damian’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I understand.”
“Good.”
Joan turned and walked from the room, her spine straight and her head high. She climbed the stairs with measured steps, entered her chamber, and closed the door behind her.
