Chapters (46)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Back Cover
“Thank you. I will be by later. I need to make some further arrangements,” Rowles said in a wooden voice, then took his leave. As he descended the stairs, he took a deep, cleansing breath. Soon he was back in his carriage with instructions for the driver to take him home. He needed to inform their solicitor and make arrangements for the burial. But most importantly, he needed to send word to Joan.
There would be no need to take a visit to Doctors’ Commons.
As of today, he was in mourning.
Twenty-eight
It is true I wished to escape; and so I wish still. Is not this lawful for all prisoners?
—Joan of Arc
The clock had struck nine in the morning when the butler arrived with a missive. It had been a difficult night for Joan, and she’d awoken uncommonly early, only to find her brother in a similar state. They’d adjourned to the library after breakfast. Joan took the linen paper from his silver tray, immediately recognizing Rowles’s seal. She’d been waiting, and she couldn’t open the missive quickly enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Dearest Joan,
I regret to inform you that my mother passed last night. It was a peaceful passing, but I am currently making arrangements for her funeral, which will take place in two days’ time. Hold my heart close; it’s in your hands. I will see you tomorrow.
All my affection,
Rowles
Joan placed her hand over her mouth as she read the missive again, her heart plummeting as she felt the sorrow in her beloved’s note.
“Is something amiss?” Morgan asked from his chair near a bookshelf. He set the novel he was reading aside and stood, his face furrowed in concern.
“His mother passed,” Joan answered, her hand falling limp at her side.
Morgan paused in his approach and gave a curt nod. “I see. Well, she’s at peace now. Heaven knows she hasn’t been at rest for nearly half a decade. I suppose it’s a blessing.”
“It’s still a loss, Morgan,” Joan chided gently. “And I’m sure Rowles is hurting.”
Morgan shook his head. “Yes, yes, you’re correct. I didn’t intend to be hard-hearted, merely logical.”
“I understand.” Joan quickly forgave him, her attention straying back to the missive.
“This will mean that he will not procure a special license today,” Morgan said softly.
“I know,” Joan replied. Her selfish heart had understood that first off. “I understand and we need to honor his mother.”
“The rules of mourning are not hard and fast, Joan. Give it a few weeks for the reading of the banns, and you shouldn’t raise too many questions with a wedding. Not to be a cad, but the whole of London knew his mother’s condition. They won’t expect him to spent the six months in mourning, not fully.”