by Laura Martin
Louisa could feel the pain and guilt emanating from Robert. She wished she could take away all the hurt and regrets and make him realise what a wonderful, caring man he as.
‘Ana and I were...’ he trailed off, as if aware he shouldn’t be talking to Louisa about his lover ‘...intimate. The last night before we left Knapwell said he’d gather the men together for one last talk. He told me to go enjoy myself for once and let him speak to the men.’
Louisa could imagine Robert giving in to his friend’s insistence he spend one last evening with his lover.
‘I spent the evening alone with Ana, unaware of what was unfolding only half a mile away.’
Louisa felt sick. She knew what he was going to say. They’d been betrayed and his men, the brave and talented light infantry unit, had been slaughtered whilst he was oblivious.
‘I lay in bed whilst French troops crept up to the village. They knew exactly where the men would be, how many there were and what they were armed with.’
His voice had become flat and emotionless. Louisa supposed he had to distance himself from the memory or he’d go mad.
‘What happened?’ Louisa asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.
Robert chuckled, but it was a humourless sound.
‘Ana made a mistake,’ he said. ‘She pulled a knife on me whilst she thought I was sleeping. I opened my eyes to see the woman I loved, the woman who I thought had loved me, about to stab me through the heart.’
Louisa couldn’t even begin to imagine the betrayal and hurt he must have felt all in that instant.
‘What did you do?’ she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.
‘I wanted to kill her,’ Robert said simply. ‘I wonder sometimes if I hadn’t had my men to think about whether I might have.’ The anguish on his face told her there was so much more depth to his emotions than he was letting on. ‘I pushed her away from me, across the room. She fell and hurt herself against the wardrobe, dropped the knife. I picked it up, got it away from her. In that moment I could have killed her.’
‘But you didn’t.’
Robert shook his head. ‘It was a split-second decision. I could either kill her or go to my men. In the end saving my men was more important than meting out my own form of justice.’
‘So she was a spy?’ Louisa asked.
Robert grimaced. ‘They all were, all the so-called residents left in the village. We found out afterwards they’d slaughtered the inhabitants before we’d arrived and set themselves up as the few remaining villagers, the ones who hadn’t fled before Napoleon’s troops.’
‘Why?’ Louisa asked.
‘To stop us.’
Louisa realised then just how effective Robert’s unit must have been. It was a lot of trouble to go to for one group of soldiers, but if they were really that deadly she supposed a trap like the one they’d fallen into in St Mamede was the only way to stop them.
‘What happened to your men?’ Louisa asked, knowing this was what Robert felt guilty about.
‘I sprinted to where Knapwell had been speaking to the men, explaining our orders, where we were heading to next, but I was too late. The slaughter had already begun.’
‘But you didn’t all die,’ Louisa said. ‘You and Dunton got away at least.’
Robert nodded, looking as though he wished he hadn’t survived.
‘I told you my men were well trained. Those who were killed were the ones closest to the forest where the French troops attacked from. As soon as the true fighting began my men fell into formation and fought back as best they could.’
Even now Louisa could tell he was proud of his troops.
‘When I arrived about half were dead. We fought the French for our lives that evening, and eventually, even though they outnumbered us four to one, they retreated.’
Louisa gripped Robert’s hand even tighter, trying to convey sympathy and love all through that one simple touch.
‘And Knapwell?’ Louisa asked gently.
‘He’d been run through with a sword,’ Robert said. ‘He was still alive, but he didn’t last long.’
Robert’s face contorted with the pain of remembering his friend’s death.
‘Did he say anything to you before he died?’ Louisa asked.
Robert nodded. ‘He told me to live for the both of us.’
They both fell silent. Louisa felt shocked. She knew something awful had happened to Robert during the war, but she hadn’t imagined anything like this. What she couldn’t understand was why he seemed so ashamed and guilty. He was a hero. He hadn’t done a single thing wrong. Even she could tell that and she hadn’t been there.
‘And have you?’ she asked after a couple of minutes of silence.
He looked at her questioningly.
‘Have you lived for the both of you?’
Slowly Robert shook his head.
* * *
Robert sat completely still. He felt as though he was being swept out to sea and the only thing anchoring him to shore was Louisa’s hand. He gripped on to her as if his life depended on it. Never before had he told anyone exactly what had happened, not like he’d confided in Louisa. When he’d had to explain the loss of three-quarters of his men to the senior officers he’d talked in military terms. He’d described the trap they’d been caught in and how the fighting had developed. He hadn’t once mentioned Ana.
‘You do realise it’s not your fault?’ Louisa asked suddenly.
He looked at her for a few seconds, not saying anything.
‘None of it was your fault.’
Of course it was. The whole awful affair was his fault. If he hadn’t been deceived by the trap, if he hadn’t been seduced by Ana, if he’d realised what was going on, his men, his friends, would be alive.
‘None of it was your fault,’ Louisa repeated resolutely.
‘I was their commanding officer,’ Robert said. ‘I should have protected them.’
‘You can’t protect everyone. And you can’t foresee everything.’ She was speaking calmly, rationally, but Robert knew she was wrong. ‘You’ve told me everything that happened?’ Louisa asked.
He nodded. He had. Louisa was the first person he’d told this story to and he’d told her everything.
‘From outside the situation, as someone who is not emotionally involved, I can say with confidence there was no way you were responsible for Greg Knapwell’s death.’
‘If I’d been there...’ Robert trailed off.
‘Is it a prerequisite that the senior officer takes all briefings?’ Louisa asked.
Robert shook his head.
‘So sometimes the second-in-command can address the troops?’
He nodded.
‘So why should you have been there?’ she asked.
‘I should have realised it was a trap.’
Louisa shifted towards him and raised her hands up to touch each side of his face. She held his eyes as her fingers stroked the skin of his cheeks, grazing over closely shaved stubble.
‘Why should you?’ she asked softly. ‘You are only human, Robert. You may be a very intelligent and capable human, but you’re human all the same. You can’t expect to get everything right. You can’t expect to make perfect judgements about people’s characters all the time.’
He wondered if she was right. Her earnest eyes staring into his were persuasive as well as beautiful.
‘But this lack of judgement lost my men their lives.’
‘And it was your judgement, your leadership, that got them through so many other tough situations and difficult fights. Without you many would have died much sooner.’
Robert thought back to the skirmishes they’d been in. He supposed she had a point—soldiers could die at any time. It was a hazard of the job.
‘
You can’t go on blaming yourself for something that was not your fault,’ Louisa said, her thumb grazing his cheek rhythmically. ‘You led your men as best you could through difficult and dangerous times. Yes, many died, but in war that is not surprising.’
He found himself nodding. When did this young woman get so wise? he wondered. She’d spent half her life locked away from the world by a lecherous old man or shut in isolation in the asylum, but still she spoke with authority and conviction.
‘You have to forgive yourself,’ Louisa said quietly, ‘otherwise there was no point in coming home from the war.’
Forgive himself? Robert mused, he hadn’t ever even contemplated that. For so long he’d carried the guilt of what had happened in St Mamede everywhere he went. He’d continued to fight in the army after the incident, knowing he had to see the war to the end. He’d owed Knapwell that much. Then he’d come home and lived this half life, not a real existence, plagued by guilt. Guilt at surviving and guilt at being responsible for his friend’s death.
He couldn’t imagine what life would be like if he actually forgave himself, if he didn’t spend each and every day hating himself for the mistakes he’d made.
‘You’re a good man, Robert,’ Louisa said quietly. ‘You deserve happiness.’
Robert looked at Louisa intently. She was beautiful, this little waif he’d spirited from the asylum less than a week ago. She’d listened to his account of what had happened in Portugal and she still thought he was a good man. Maybe she was right. Maybe he needed to forgive himself just a little.
She dropped her hands from his face and immediately he missed the touch. His body cried out for him to kiss her, to lay her back on the sofa and make her his, but Robert knew that was a step too far. He might be able to forgive himself a little, but he knew he could never deserve a woman like Louisa. She was kind and caring and the most understanding woman he’d ever met. She deserved only the best.
So instead of kissing her, Robert sat back and closed his eyes, trying to control his desire, pushing the thought of Louisa’s soft lips and pliant body far from his mind.
Chapter Sixteen
Louisa had barely slept. All through the night Robert’s story kept running through her mind. She understood him so much better now, could grasp where the pain and anguish came from. He was a good man, that much was clear, and a brave man. A man who had led his troops successfully through peril time and time again, only to be tricked by a woman. She supposed she understood why he blamed himself—not that it was his fault at all, but Robert was the kind of man who took his responsibilities very seriously.
She entered the dining room and stopped short. Each morning since she’d arrived at Fleetwood House Robert had been up and ready for the day far earlier than she. When she came down for breakfast he had normally already finished his and was sitting drinking coffee and reading the paper. Today he was nowhere to be seen.
Louisa looked around for signs he had been and gone. There wasn’t a stray crumb or evidence of disturbance. She knew with certainty no one had been in to breakfast yet. Although where Robert was remained a mystery, she wasn’t surprised Mrs Crawshaw was nowhere to be seen. Louisa’s elderly companion had been a good choice. The woman could barely see anything, couldn’t hear what was being said unless it was directed solely at her and seemed to sleep half the day. She was a companion for propriety’s sake only, and hadn’t got in the way of Louisa enjoying Robert’s company one little bit.
A footman entered and Louisa spun round.
‘Shall I tell cook you’re ready for breakfast, miss?’
‘Has Lord Fleetwood gone somewhere?’ she asked.
The footman hid a grin; Robert’s punctuality was well known around the house.
‘No, miss. He only rose ten minutes ago.’ The footman leant in closer. ‘It’s the first time he’s slept in past seven for two years.’
Louisa didn’t know what to make of this piece of news.
‘I’ll bring breakfast up for you and his lordship,’ the footman said.
Louisa perched on the edge of a dining-room chair, every few seconds looking over her shoulder, wondering when Robert would make an entrance. She supposed his nightmares had probably got worse, after dragging up all the memories last night.
‘Good morning, Louisa,’ Robert said, coming in and taking his normal seat at the head of the table.
He looked refreshed, not like a man who had been tossing and turning all night.
‘Did you sleep?’ Louisa asked, looking for signs of exhaustion on his face.
‘Like a baby,’ he said with a frown. ‘No, better than a baby.’
Louisa looked at him questioningly. Robert never slept well.
‘And the nightmares?’ she asked.
‘Didn’t have a single one.’ His frown deepened and he looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. Then he shrugged and smiled at her and Louisa found herself smiling back. He looked younger than normal, more carefree. She liked this version of Robert.
‘What’s for breakfast?’ Robert asked, looking around just as the footman reentered with a tray.
‘Scrambled eggs, my lord,’ the footman said.
‘I’m ravenous.’
Louisa watched as Robert tucked into his plate of scrambled eggs. He was eating it with the same level of enjoyment as she had as she approached each meal.
‘This coffee is delicious,’ he commented, taking a break from his breakfast to drain the cup. The footman immediately stepped forwards and refilled it. ‘Is it new?’
‘Just the same coffee you’ve had for two years, my lord.’
Robert shrugged and turned back to his plate of eggs.
‘What do you fancy doing today?’ Robert asked.
Louisa tore her eyes away from the man who yesterday hadn’t even glanced at the food on his plate with any amount of interest.
‘Something outdoorsy,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a beautiful sunny day.’
Robert nodded with enthusiasm.
‘Maybe a trip to the park,’ she suggested. She’d enjoyed their first walk around the park just a week ago. She couldn’t believe it was only a week since they’d first met. Sometimes she felt as though she’d known Robert for a lifetime, especially now he’d opened up to her and shared such intimate details about his past.
‘Or how about I take you riding?,’ he suggested.
Louisa looked at him sceptically. ‘You do realise I haven’t been on a horse for nine years,’ she said, ‘and before that I wasn’t exactly an expert horsewoman.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
She nodded. She’d enjoyed the freedom, the knowledge that she could gallop off through the fields and be the only one for miles. She’d missed that once her parents had died. It was another bit of her former life Mr Craven had stripped from her.
‘Would you like to learn how to do it properly?’ he asked.
‘Will you be the one teaching me?’
‘Of course.’ He said it as if she were mad to think he’d let anyone else teach her.
‘Then I’d love to.’
Louisa watched him as he finished his scrambled eggs and savoured the second cup of coffee. He’d bared his soul to her last night, told her things he hadn’t ever told anyone else. She felt privileged, special, and she wondered why he had chosen her to tell it all to.
For the past week Louisa had known her feelings for Robert were growing into something more than gratitude. At first she’d just been thankful he’d rescued her from the asylum. Then had come the friendship. She hadn’t really had a friend before, not as an adult at least, but she enjoyed the feeling of someone looking out for her, caring for her.
Then as well as the friendship was desire, for Louisa couldn’t deny she was attracted to Robert. He was a good-lo
oking man and every time they were alone Louisa had the urge to press her body up against his and invite him to do very wicked things to her. It wasn’t the way a well-brought-up young lady was meant to behave, but she couldn’t seem to stop the wanton thoughts.
Her body had responded to his kisses instinctively, as if she’d been born to be kissed by Robert Fleetwood.
Louisa felt the heat rising through her body and realised these were dangerous thoughts for the breakfast table. She told herself to get back to the subject and figure out exactly what it was she felt for Robert Fleetwood.
Did she trust him? Louisa asked herself. She hadn’t trusted anyone since her parents had died. But Robert was a hard man to ignore. Every day he did something that made her feel more and more comfortable in his presence. And he was the one she turned to if she was afraid or unsure of something.
‘You have a visitor, Lord Fleetwood,’ Smith, the footman, said as he came in to collect the empty plates. ‘Mrs Knapwell. I’ve put her in the drawing room.’
Robert glanced at her, shrugged and stood to leave.
‘Shall I come with you?’ Louisa asked.
He nodded, some of the tension back in his shoulders already. Louisa hoped seeing Mrs Knapwell wasn’t enough to send him back into a guilty frame of mind.
‘I’m so sorry to call so early,’ Mrs Knapwell said as soon as they both entered the drawing room. ‘I know it’s extremely uncivilised of me.’
‘Not at all. You’re always welcome here no matter what time of day.’
‘I was meaning to mention it last night,’ she continued. ‘I wanted to ask if Miss Turnhill would like to accompany me to the Southwark Orphanage today.’
Louisa glanced at Robert. He shrugged as if leaving it up to her.
‘We’re having a bit of a gala,’ Mrs Knapwell explained. ‘It’s a fund-raising event, an open house really. The girls are putting on a little exhibition about their daily lives.’
Louisa couldn’t imagine that the general public would want to know the grim realities of the orphans’ daily lives.