Kenneth’s jaw dropped, but he quickly snapped out of his momentary daze, reminding himself of the reality. This was fake, an act for their benefit.
Still, when he greeted her, he could not resist the urge to bow to her and kiss the back of her gloved hand.
“Lady Joanna,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes as she rose from her curtsy.
“I am not late, am I? My mother and sisters delayed me with an array of questions about your family, and I grew rather flustered.”
“No, not at all. Come, let me introduce you to my mother. You received my notes?”
She nodded as he took her hand, the impulse to be near her and protect her stronger than he had anticipated. “I did, and I stayed up to study them until my candle burned out. Do not fret, I am a quick learner.”
His smile widened, her wit and spunk shining through even though he saw from the slight twitching in her eyes that she had to be nervous.
“Ah, that must be the young miracle worker,” the Dowager Duchess’s voice boomed suddenly as she walked out of the dining room. She rushed toward Joanna with a beaming smile and took her hand while Joanna bobbed a low curtsy.
“Mother, may I introduce Lady Joanna Blackmore. Joanna, this is my mother, Diana Stratford, the Dowager Duchess of Wells,” Kenneth said.
Joanna rose and beamed at his mother, the very picture of a graceful young lady. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. Kenneth has spoken so much about you that I was eager to meet you in person.”
Diana glanced at Kenneth. “Has he? I was not certain he spoke about me at all,” she said with a laugh, though Kenneth felt the barb in her statement.
“All the time. He told me you are a keen lover of the opera. As am I,” Joanna replied smoothly.
And just like that, his mother was charmed. She escorted Joanna to the dining room, chatting away about her favorite operas.
Joanna glanced over her shoulder and winked at Kenneth, who felt much better about the evening ahead.
The beef consomme’s aroma drifted in the air as the party finished the first course. It had gone better than Kenneth had expected, with Joanna easily conversing with his mother about a play they’d both enjoyed the previous Season. Joanna’s genuine interest in the written play had allowed her to impress his mother with details that the theater adaptation missed.
Indeed, his mother had spoken very little and instead listened to Joanna—an unusual change.
Kenneth felt a little suspicious.
Joanna’s calm, confident demeanor reassured him, despite the stress he was feeling. Alas, midway through the second course—his mother’s favorite hare with buttered vegetables—he noticed a shift in his mother.
She leaned forward, her napkin placed beside her half-eaten main course. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity, and she looked like a hunter whose eyes were fixed on his prey.
Kenneth gulped, prepared to intervene.
“Lady Joanna, I am eager to learn more about you. I already know you are a keen reader, as you knowA Midsummer Night’s Dreambetter than I do, but what about your accomplishments? Do you play an instrument? Dance? Sing?”
Joanna glanced at Kenneth briefly. “I do appreciate music and dancing, but I must confess, I’m not particularly skilled in those arts. I enjoy them as a spectator rather than a participant. And, unfortunately, singing is not in my repertoire either,” she replied humbly and then smiled broadly. “My mother says that I make the Chinese wallpaper peel off the walls when I sing, so she prefers it when I read poetry aloud to our guests. I also write my own poetry.”
Kenneth observed his mother’s subtle disapproval, a tightening of her lips that hinted at her dissatisfaction. She had always valued accomplishments such as playing the pianoforte and other instruments. But reading poetry was not an accomplishment she valued highly, and writing it was almost alarming.
“So, no musical talents? Do you dance?”
“I can dance, yes. I do not particularly enjoy crowds, but I am perfectly capable of dancing. The waltz is my favorite.”
Kenneth’s eyes widened with shock, for he knew his mother thought the waltz was scandalous, something he neglected to tell Joanna. Then again, many young ladies felt this way about the waltz. Thus, he hadn’t thought he needed to warn her.
His mother’s lips puckered momentarily as she picked up her napkin again and placed it on her lap. “The waltz… I see. I heard Lord Byron called it a rather vulgar?—”
“Lady Joanna is deeply involved in Our Lady of Mount Carmel’s Orphanage,” Kenneth interjected quickly. “Her dedication to charitable causes is truly admirable.”
“Our Lady of Mount Carmel’s Orphanage? Truly?” His mother’s countenance changed from judgmental to delighted in a second. “It was one of my eldest son’s passion projects. A noble pursuit, indeed.”
“Yes, I adore spending time with the children. They so need our love and attention. Kenneth told me that your eldest son and husband were both involved. What a lovely tradition to have.”