by Laura Martin
Louisa regarded him for almost a minute in silence, staring into his eyes, and Robert felt as though she’d studied his soul. Eventually she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Robert rose to his feet, strode the couple of paces to the door and thumped hard on the wood with his fist.
He waited until he could hear footsteps approaching, then thumped again.
The female warden unlocked the door and stood aside for him to come out.
‘Get me Symes,’ he commanded. ‘And give me the keys to unlock this poor girl’s manacles.’
The warden just stared at him.
‘I said give me your keys,’ he growled in a voice that brooked no argument.
Wordlessly the warden handed over a key, unthreading it from the bunch.
‘Go get Symes,’ he repeated. ‘I’m taking Miss Turnhill away from here.’
‘Very Arthurian,’ Louisa murmured as he unlocked the manacle from around her wrist.
He looked at her, puzzled.
‘My knight in shining armour.’ He saw the smile on her face and humour in her eyes and wondered how anyone could keep from utter despair after spending such a long time in the asylum.
‘What’s going on?’ Symes asked as he blustered in. ‘Lock her back up immediately.’
‘I’m taking Miss Turnhill with me,’ Robert said, ‘and we’re never coming back.’ It was a bit of a dramatic statement, but the whole scene seemed a little farcical to him.
‘You can’t do that,’ Symes said.
‘I’m her legal guardian now, I can choose to do whatever I like. And I choose to take Miss Turnhill away from this dreadful place and into my care.’
With that Robert took Louisa’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. She took a couple of steps forward and stumbled. Robert realised she wasn’t used to walking far and, adding to that the excitement of escape, he wasn’t surprised she was a little overcome. Wanting to make their exit as quickly as possible, he bent his head to Louisa’s ear and dropped his voice so only she could hear.
‘I’m going to carry you,’ he said.
‘You most certainly are not.’
Robert blinked twice in quick succession. Most young ladies wouldn’t give up the chance of being swept into a man’s arms whatever the circumstances.
‘I was dragged into this hellhole, but I will walk out on my own two feet.’
Chapter Two
Louisa stumbled, but only once. She righted herself, held her head high and walked out of Lewisham Asylum for the last time. They could threaten to poke out her eyes and hang her by the neck, but nothing would make her enter that vile place ever again.
‘Where to now?’ she asked, eyeing her saviour with a grin on her face.
He looked down at her with concern. Louisa supposed she probably did look a little mad, dressed in the grey sack of the madhouse, squinting into the sun and grinning like a lunatic. She didn’t care. She was free.
‘My home, perhaps?’ Robert suggested.
She pulled a face. ‘But there’s so much to do. Over a year of things to catch up on. I was thinking a stroll in the park.’
She watched as he tried to hide the horror on his face. She grinned again and waited as it dawned on him that she was teasing.
‘Your home would be lovely,’ she said quietly.
She’d always found it hard to be serious, her natural temperament was carefree and joyous. Even when her parents had died she’d tried to see the positive side to life. In the years she’d dodged her guardian’s unwanted advances she’d almost forgotten how to smile. Then he’d dumped her in the asylum and she’d vowed she would be true to herself, no matter what hardships followed.
Gently Robert helped her up into his carriage. He followed her inside and banged on the roof, signalling for the driver to depart. Louisa watched as the facade of the asylum faded into the distance, then felt her body start to shake. She couldn’t believe she was actually out of that place. She was free. She didn’t know what life held for her now, but surely nothing could be worse than the eight long years with her guardian or the one in the madhouse.
She couldn’t stop the shaking, she felt overwhelmed. She felt the tears start to pour from her eyes and run down her cheeks.
‘It’s all right,’ Robert said soothingly. ‘You’re safe now.’
He moved from his position on the opposite side of the carriage to sit next to her. Gently he took her in his arms and held her. Louisa felt herself stiffen. She wasn’t used to human contact, at least not of the friendly kind. No one had hugged her since her parents had died. Slowly she allowed herself to relax into his arms, soothed by the soft sound of his voice.
‘You’re safe now,’ he repeated over and over again, and for a few moments Louisa allowed herself to believe it.
She wondered what was driving this man. She’d had to trust him in the asylum, she’d have trusted anyone who’d given her the chance to escape, but now she was free she could always try to make her own way. She watched as the carriage slowed slightly and wondered if she would hurt herself too much if she jumped. Being alone in London was a scary thought, but at least she wouldn’t be locked in anywhere. For all she knew this man might be taking her somewhere worse than the asylum.
It was possible, but the rational part of Louisa knew to dismiss the thought. She might not know his motivations, but Louisa’s instincts were that he was a good man. Maybe she would stick with him for a little while, just until she could make plans to be on her own.
Self-consciously Louisa wiped the last few tears from her cheeks and sat upright. As she wriggled free from Robert’s arms she felt strangely bereft. She’d been on her own so long that just that little bit of human contact had been world changing.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Louisa asked. ‘Sell me into slavery? Banish me to work in a travelling fair?’
He was too easy to poke fun at, that was the problem. Robert Fleetwood was a serious man, too serious for a man of his age. She wondered if he’d been in the war. He had a scar running down his left temple that looked as though it had been inflicted by a sword. She supposed it could have been from a duel, but he looked like a soldier. He had that upright bearing, serious mien and a haunted, faraway look in his eyes that suggested he’d left a bit of his soul on the battlefield.
‘You joke a lot,’ he said seriously.
‘I find when you’re incarcerated as a lunatic it helps if you can enjoy the funnier things in life. It does get rather dull otherwise.’
Robert shook his head. ‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘You use it as your protection.’
Louisa felt stripped, naked. It was as though he’d looked inside her very being and found each and every one of her weaknesses. And he’d only known her for an hour.
‘I meant what I said back there, Louisa,’ he said seriously. ‘I’m not going to hurt you and I won’t let anyone else hurt you either.’
She allowed herself to hope, to dream. It was everything she’d ever wished for during her darkest hours at the asylum. A protector, a rescuer, someone who actually cared about her, but Louisa knew it was too good to be true. Life wasn’t the stuff of fairy tales, she’d found that out long ago. She might have dreamed about a protector, someone to rescue her, but she’d known she wouldn’t ever rely on anyone but herself again. Other people could hurt her, let her down. Even a knight in shining armour was too good to be true. No, Louisa had promised herself she would only ever depend on herself again, no matter how tempting the dream of someone to look after her had been.
‘Why are you helping me?’ she asked. It hadn’t mattered before, but now she was free she needed to know.
Robert sighed, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned. Louisa wondered what he looked like when he laughed. Handsome, she supposed, not that he
wasn’t handsome when he was serious, but a smile would change his face to make him irresistible to the ladies. Real ladies, not lunatic paupers like her.
‘Eight weeks ago Thomas Craven died,’ he said slowly.
Louisa didn’t know how to react. The man who’d made her existence a misery, ruined her entire life, was dead. She felt a strange bubble of rage building inside her. It was as though she’d been robbed. She’d wanted to confront him, stand in front of him and tell him what an awful, wicked excuse for a guardian he was. Now she would never be able to.
‘As his closest living relative I inherited his estate.’
Slowly realization dawned on Louisa. Robert hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was her guardian. She’d assumed it was a ruse to trick Symes into letting her go.
‘So you actually are my guardian?’
He nodded. ‘The day before my great-uncle died he wrote a letter and sent it to me. In it he confessed to some awful wrongdoing on his part.’
Louisa sat paralysed, unable to move. She felt stunned.
‘He gave me your name and asked me to put right the wrong he did you.’
‘Did he tell you what he did?’ she asked urgently. ‘Did he say he’d had me locked up when I was completely sane?’
Robert shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
Louisa felt the breath being sucked out of her. There was no proof, only her word, that she wasn’t insane. That was why Robert had studied her so intently back at the asylum. He was weighing her up, deciding whether to believe her at all.
‘So how did you find me?’
‘I visited my great-uncle’s estate and asked around. The servants were all very tight-lipped, but eventually someone talked. Said there was a big scandal and you were taken away to be locked up. My agent, Yates, has been scouring the country for you ever since.’
‘What happens now?’ Louisa asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
‘I don’t know,’ Robert said with a rueful grin. ‘I’ve never been a guardian before.’
‘I can give you a few pointers on how not to do it,’ Louisa suggested, feeling some of her spirit returning to her. ‘I’ve had plenty of experience.’
Robert looked at her tenderly and Louisa felt her heart start to pound in her chest. She clenched her fists so she wouldn’t reach up and stroke his cheek. It would be entirely inappropriate. He was her guardian, her saviour, and no doubt he was still wondering if she was quite right in the head. What she was feeling was natural, Louisa reasoned, it was gratitude for his chivalrous rescue of her from the asylum. She forced herself to look away from his serious blue eyes or she knew she’d do something she would regret later.
Self-consciously Louisa stared down at her grubby hands and skinny arms. Her dress was shapeless and filthy, her hair hadn’t been cut or styled for over a year and she probably stank like a sewer rat. There was no way a man like Robert would find her attractive. And even after a bath and a change of clothes she wasn’t anything like the ladies he’d be used to. She’d spent her adult years festering in a cell or secluded in the country whilst her peers learnt to waltz around ballrooms and flirt with gentlemen. She was not fit to even fantasise about a man like Robert.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Robert asked.
Louisa desperately tried not to blush.
‘I was wondering whether I smelt better or worse than a rotting pig,’ Louisa said with a sunny smile, her defences back up. She took a sniff. ‘Worse, I fear.’
Robert leant forward so his face was only inches from hers. Louisa had to remind herself to breathe. He inhaled deeply.
‘Now I’m no connoisseur of rotting pigs,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think you smell as bad as you think you do.’
It was the strangest compliment she’d ever received.
‘We’ll get you a bath when we get home,’ he said.
Louisa immediately pictured Robert lathering her back as she luxuriated in a tub full of bubbles. The idea made her feel hot all over and she squirmed slightly. This was the last thing she needed: an infatuation with her guardian.
She settled back into the seat of the carriage and tried to look anywhere except at Robert. It was hard when her eyes were being so rebellious. Every few seconds she found herself staring at his face, watching the tiny changes in his expression.
‘Where do you live?’ Louisa asked, trying to use banal conversation to distract herself.
‘Here.’
The carriage rolled to a stop and Louisa glanced out. She nearly had a heart attack. It was one of the grandest London town houses she’d ever seen.
‘You can’t live here,’ she squeaked.
He regarded her strangely. ‘I can assure you I’ve lived here for the last two years,’ Robert said, ‘but I’m always up for suggestions for more comfortable accommodation.’
‘I can highly recommend the Lewisham Asylum.’
He turned serious again and took her by the shoulder. ‘I want you to forget that place, Louisa. I will do everything I can to make you forget it.’
Louisa saw the care and sincerity in his eyes and already the asylum seemed a long way away.
Chapter Three
Robert glanced at the clock and tapped his fingers absent-mindedly on the arm of the chair. His years of service in the army had made him exceedingly punctual; he even turned up to dinner in his own house five minutes early.
Not that there was any rush, he thought, as he sipped from the glass of whisky in his hand. He’d planned for dinner this evening to be a very informal affair with just him and Louisa present. He didn’t want to scare her, and after eating slop from wooden bowls with her fingers for over a year he doubted Louisa would welcome company at her first civilised meal.
He glanced at the clock again, wondering if he should check on Louisa. He’d handed her over to his housekeeper, Mrs Kent, a couple of hours ago. The older woman had clucked over Louisa’s poor state and had whisked her upstairs to fuss over her.
A little bit of fussing would do Louisa some good, Robert thought. She’d been neglected for too long. He wondered if her experiences over the last few years had inflicted any permanent damage. Only someone with a very robust character would escape unscathed from a situation such as hers.
The door slowly swung open as Louisa stepped into the room.
Robert stood immediately, surprised by the difference a bath could make.
‘Good evening, Lord Fleetwood,’ Louisa said.
For a second Robert couldn’t find the right words. She looked completely different to the scrawny little ragamuffin he’d swept from the asylum and into his carriage earlier in the day. Granted she was still all skin and bones, but Mrs Kent had scrubbed Louisa’s skin until it was glowing, then must have turned her attention to Louisa’s hair. In place of the lank locks that had hung down Louisa’s back earlier in the day was a head of shining chestnut hair, secured into an elegant hairstyle.
The only thing that stopped Louisa looking like a young lady of the ton was the shapeless dress she’d had to borrow from Robert’s middle-aged and voluptuous housekeeper. It hung off her like a sack, but at least it was clean and not that awful grey garment she’d spent over a year wearing.
‘You look lovely,’ Robert said.
Louisa scrunched up her nose as if she didn’t believe him.
‘You do.’
And she did. Robert wasn’t in the habit of giving out compliments just for the sake of it.
‘It feels wonderful to be clean,’ Louisa said, fiddling with her hair self-consciously. ‘For the first time in longer than I can remember I smell of roses rather than cabbage.’
‘Shall we go in to dinner?’ Robert asked.
He held out his arm and waited for her to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow. She hesitated before stepping
forwards and Robert realised he had a long way to go before Louisa trusted him. She was scared of even the briefest human contact. He’d seen her flinch on a couple of occasions since he’d brought her home, as if she was expecting him to raise a hand to her. Slowly, he cautioned himself, if you’re gentle she’ll start to trust you eventually.
He made sure no part of his body brushed against hers as he escorted her into dinner. He watched her face as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated before sitting down himself. She was wary of every movement, but seemed to relax once he’d sat down.
‘We’ve got a lot to discover about each other,’ Robert said as the footman brought the first course to the table.
Louisa smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He supposed she was nervous of giving too much of herself away.
‘What you like to eat, for example.’
As she realised Robert wasn’t going to push her for more personal facts quite yet, Louisa relaxed.
‘I used to be rather fussy,’ she said, eyeing the bowl of soup in front of her. ‘My mama would despair at mealtimes.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t eat.’ After a mouthful of soup she added, ‘Except gruel. Serve that and I’m walking out.’
‘I’ll tell cook madam is not a fan of the gruel.’
‘Or porridge,’ Louisa added. ‘I do like this soup, though.’
Robert could tell she was holding back. She wanted to spoon the deliciously warm liquid into her mouth and not bother with any conversation, but even after a year locked away, her upbringing as a well-mannered young woman shone through.
‘What else do we have on the menu?’ Louisa asked, her eyes sparkling in anticipation.
Robert was glad—she needed to put some more flesh on her frame. A few weeks of good cooking and she’d be much healthier and able to face the world again.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve got no idea.’
Louisa frowned. ‘But it’s your house, isn’t it?’
He nodded.
‘Then how can you have no idea what’s for dinner.’