But then, none of that mattered, did it?
“Where have you been, Papa?” Verity asked, giving voice to Johanna’s inner turmoil in her innocent way. “Miss McKenna and I were just about to sing a silly song. Would you care to join us?”
“No silly songs today, poppet,” he said. “But I do understand Mrs. Cuthbert has made some cocoa biscuits just now. Why do you not run along and have a taste of them, see if they are as good as the ones Monsieur Favreau makes?”
“But Papa,” Verity protested. “I would rather sing with Miss McKenna than eat biscuits.”
“Off with you, poppet,” he told her, his voice firm, though tender. “There will be plenty more opportunities for you to sing your ditties with Miss McKenna.”
Verity cast a glance in Johanna’s direction.
No, there will not be, Johanna wanted to cry out.
But her heart was still breaking, and she could not seem to find the strength within her to say a single word. And so she smiled reassuringly at Felix’s daughter instead.
“I shall go,” Verity decided, “but only because Papa demands it. I am certain no one can compete with Monsieur’s biscuits.”
Felix was only halfway across the chamber from her now, drawing nearer. And she could feel her inner resolve weakening accordingly. There were the lips she had kissed, just this morning. There was the body that had been so strong and powerful beneath hers. His cat’s eyes were fathomless this morning.
How she wished she knew what he was thinking.
“Go on now, poppet,” he instructed Verity.
Verity curtseyed, and then she flounced from the room.
Felix watched her go before turning back to Johanna and closing the last of the distance between them. His gaze searched her face. “Good morning, Johanna. You are well?”
She knew what he was asking, and her cheeks went hot. “Quite well, Your Grace.”
“Verity is likely halfway to the kitchens,” he countered, his voice low. “You need not resort to formality with me now.”
“I am afraid I must,” she said. “What happened between us, it was wonderful, Felix, and I shall hold the memories in my heart forever. But what we need most—what you and Lady Verity need right now—is to be safe. You will not be safe for as long as I remain beneath your roof.”
“You belong here,” he argued, reaching for her hands.
She clutched him back, much to her shame, linking her fingers through his. Because she could not resist. One last touch. One last time…
“I do not belong anywhere,” she corrected him gently. “I never have.”
“Perhaps not before, but you belong here now.” He pulled her gently into his chest. “You cannot imagine I will let you go, Johanna.”
“You must,” she insisted. “The danger is far too great. If something were to happen to you or to Lady Verity, I could never forgive myself.”
“I understand how you feel, because I feel exactly the same.” His gaze was tender. “I want to protect you. Iwillprotect you.”
She wanted to look away, but she could not. This man had become her greatest weakness. Every part of her longed for him. Her body, her heart, her mind.
But it was not meant to be.
“This is not your battle to fight, Felix,” she told him. “I alone am to blame for the untenable position in which I now find myself. I must face this on my own.”
“You will face it at my side.” He withdrew his hand from hers and cupped her face. “As my wife. Marry me, Johanna.”
She stared, certain she had misheard him. Foolish, foolish heart to invent fictions. Stupid, wild imagination. Fleeting, nonsensical fancy. Or perhaps she had fallen asleep, and this was nothing but a dream.
She blinked, and the Duke of Winchelsea still stood before her, wearing the same earnest expression upon his handsome face. Looking as serious and somber as he ever had. He seemed to be awaiting an answer from her, which was entirely silly. But it was apparent that he was all too real, and she was not, in fact asleep. Still touching her face as gently as if she were fashioned from the finest porcelain.
She had to say something.
