by Ella Edon
There was nothing but silence on the other end. Louisa lifted her chin in an effort to be brave as she raised her hand to knock again.
At that moment, the door opened. Jerome was…not wearing a shirt.
Dark curls covered his chest, dipping towards an abdomen that was as chiseled as the Greek statues she’d seen last Season in a museum. He wore his trousers, but they were low on his hips, revealing a sharp V that made her tongue go dry. Louisa’s mind went blank. There were also faint lines on his chest, hidden within the hairs. Scars, she thought with alarm.
“Louisa?” he called, pulling her out of her daze. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his face. “Are you here to say what you wanted to earlier?”
She nodded. Her body was on fire, her limbs numb. Remembering how to speak was an impossible feat. “May I come inside?” she managed to rasp out.
He looked taken aback by her words. He nodded slowly, almost warily, before he stepped back and allowed her entry. Louisa felt a rush of warmth when she stepped past him. Jerome kept the door open and she said, “It’s fine.”
He seemed even more surprised by that, but he closed it nonetheless. Louisa swept her gaze throughout the room at the bedchamber she was meant to share with him before returning her attention to him.
“I must say, Louisa,” Jerome began. “I am quite surprised. Now I cannot help but wonder if you bring bad news.”
Louisa felt herself smile. “What sort of bad news could I possibly bring to you in the middle of the night?”
“You’re right,” he agreed with a laugh. “Is it because you cannot sleep? Do you want me to lay by your side tonight again?”
She took a step towards him. “Will you?”
“If that is what you need in order to have a good night’s rest, I will do so without hesitation.” He caught her look of intent and frowned. “Do you…want to sleep in here?”
She nodded, her lips tightening. There was no longer any doubting it. She wanted him in ways she’d never thought possible. Sexual ways. Ways she’d hated and had run away from all her life, because of the things she’d seen in the past. The how wasn’t what she questioned. Nor the why. Louisa only wanted to know when and the response that came to her mind was simple—now.
“Very well,” Jerome said. “Let me set up the pillows so that you do not have to—”
Louisa didn’t give him any more time to speak. She pounced on him, sliding her hand behind his neck with surprising ease as she went onto the tips of her toes and kissed him. She sensed his surprise, but she held on to him even as he jerked back.
Jerome pulled away, his hands on her hips when he did. It should have discouraged her, but it only brought more heat to the surface, filling her with more passionate desire. “Louisa, what are you—”
She didn’t want to answer his questions. She didn’t want to explain herself. All she knew was that she’d never been sexually aroused before and she was wholly unprepared for its fierceness. She laid a hand on his bare chest, kissing him again. This time, Jerome was prepared for it—and he didn’t fight it either.
Instead, he gave in to her touch. The shock melted from his limbs and he tightened his hold on her hips, pulling her groin against his. The press of her bust against him was enough to drive the flaming lust through the roof. He tasted as great as the last time, and felt just as perfect. As if they had been meant for each other, she fit easily into the hardness of his body, their tongues battling. When he took her bottom lip between his teeth, Louisa’s knees went weak.
His hand drifted up to the back of her neck, gripping her there lightly. Louisa’s chest expanded with unending pleasure when his other hand snaked around to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. She could feel the passion within the kiss, the fervor that consumed her just as badly. She slid her fingers through his hair, wishing this would never end.
They stumbled backwards, until she was pushed up against the door. The heat of his touch was enough to drive her insane, enough to make her pant with need when one large hand slipped down to her bottom. He gripped her lightly, pulling her into him even closer. She felt something hard against her groin, but she didn’t break the kiss. It was a feeling she’d never had before. She wanted more from his lips, more of his touch. The words were nearly on the tip of her tongue, but Jerome seemed to have read her mind because she felt another hand brushing at her bust
Her nipples strained against the layers, as if desperate to be touched. He broke away from her lips, pressing nibbling kisses along the side of her neck while he fondled her breast. Louisa was glad she was pressed up against the door. She would not have been able to stand on her own otherwise.
And then a hand tugged at the skirt of her dress, pulling it up. Louisa lifted her leg with the fabric on instinct, giving him easier access to what lay underneath. At this point, she wasn’t thinking, only letting her body take control. She felt his hand on her thigh, drifting upwards—
“Louisa—” Jerome stepped away from her so suddenly that it left Louisa breathless. He put his hand out, as if to ward her off, and ran his other hand through his hair. Watching it become mussed only heightened her longing.
“What is it?” she demanded to know.
“You have had too much to drink, haven’t you?” he asked. He was as breathless as she was.
Louisa eyes widened at his question. “Pardon me?”
“I did notice that you had indulged tonight, but I can taste it on your lips now. Perhaps it is best if we do not do this tonight.”
She could hardly believe her ears. “Are you rejecting me?”
“God, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” Jerome stalked away from her, obviously distressed. She’d never seen him so agitated before. Considering the situation, she certainly didn’t like it. “This cannot happen, Louisa. Not tonight. Not when I know you might only be influenced by your drinking tonight.”
“I see.” Her words were cold. Stiff as a board, Louisa made her way to the door.
Jerome tried to reach out to her, but she sidestepped his hand. “Louisa, I did not mean—”
“Do not worry. I will not bother you again.”
Not giving him the chance to say anything else, she left the room, letting the door slam behind her. She instantly began making her way toward her own bedchamber, letting the darkness swallow her up. All the embarrassment, the shock, the outrage. In all her overthinking, Louisa had not expected that to happen.
It was too much to bear, that shame. She made her way to her bedchamber and flung herself onto the bed. Louisa didn’t know whether to scream or to cry. So she merely curled into a ball and contemplated all the changes she’d gone through before reaching this point.
She regretted them all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Have you received word?”
“Yes, Mr. Cooper.” The man before Jerome’s desk was quite fidgety. Jerome would often see him around the manor with a chewed leaf stalk sticking out the side of his mouth. He seemed the type who needed to keep his body in constant motion, and so as he stood before Jerom, he fumbled with his fingers, scratching the side of his trousers at intervals.
Jerome was grateful for the nervous behavior. He tried to focus on it as he listened to what the man had to say, keeping his other thoughts at bay. Once again, Louisa was avoiding him. And once again, Jerome found it difficult to focus as a result.
“Then?” he probed, leaning back in his chair. He swiveled his quill pen around his fingers, another distraction. “What have you learned?”
“His Grace has become bedridden once again, Mr. Cooper,” the man said. “He has been this way for the past two days. However, upon arriving, I received a message that I must pass along to you.”
“I have an inkling of what it might be,” Jerome murmured, waving his hand. “Go ahead. Tell me.”
“His Grace reminds you, Mr. Cooper, that there is little time left. His physician only brings bad news whenever he visits and so he implores you to move spe
edily. That is all I have been told.”
“Very well. Thank you. You are dismissed.” The man managed to bow decently enough before he turned and made his way to the door. Before he could leave, Jerome called out to him again. “Fetch Samson,” he ordered.
The man bowed once more and left. Jerome let out a breath. His father’s reminders that he did not have much time left did not sit well with Jerome. He liked to ignore that, to believe that the duke’s tenacity would hold even through sickness. Thinking about his passing made him as uneasy as the way he was being pressured to produce an heir.
Louisa will hardly look in my direction. Once again, I have found a way to make her run. Having a child feels like a foolish hope, Father.
That was the least of Jerome’s worries right now. He did not intend to force Louisa to do anything she did not want to, nor did he intend to persuade or trick her. Like he should have done since the very start, Jerome planned on being completely honest with her and with his intentions. Even though he could not yet muster up the courage to confess his love for her, he would remain by her side in whatever way she needed until she realized it herself.
At least, that was what he had intended to do. Now, those plans seemed for naught.
The memory of last night was burned into the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe he had truly said those words to her. Surely, he could have found something more suitable? Not only had he chased her away, but he had made it seem as if he didn’t want her when it was quite the opposite. Even now Jerome couldn’t fathom where he had gotten the strength to pull away from her kiss.
It had been all he had expected it to be. Heated yet tender. Filled with quiet desperation and hopeful longing. Without an ounce of hesitation, either. Jerome had dreamed about such a kiss so many times before, that he half wondered if perhaps he had imagined the entire thing.
But in his dreams, Louisa did not have the taste of wine on her lips. Jerome could not have in good conscience continued. Even though it didn’t look that way, he couldn’t be certain that she wasn’t intoxicated. And if she was, he wouldn’t dare take advantage of her in that state, no matter that she had been the one who started it.
A knock came at the door, cutting into his thoughts. “Enter,” Jerome bellowed, sitting up.
Samson slipped into the room, bowing. “Mr. Cooper. What may I help you with?”
“Have my dinner, along with Louisa’s, prepared. Bring it to my study when you are finished.”
“As you wish, Mr. Cooper. Will you be dining in here?”
Jerome shook his head. “No, I will have it brought elsewhere instead. Have it done as quickly as possible.”
Samson bowed slightly then made his leave. The moment he was gone, Jerome got to his feet and made his way over to the sideboard. He poured himself a glass of brandy, knowing very well he would need the courage. An angry Louisa is not someone he should take lightly, he knew.
He sipped the brandy slowly, letting the heat spread throughout his body. In truth, he didn’t know if Louisa was angry. She had every reason to be. After he had rejected her in such a manner, he wouldn’t blame her if she slammed the door right in his face.
But he wouldn’t let this silence linger for any longer. She’d forgone her breakfast, had avoided him all day. Jerome would be damned if he allowed them to fall into that cycle all over again.
In short order, Samson returned to the study with two maids in two, bearing their dinner. Jerome nodded in approval as he left the study and began to make his way to Louisa’s bedchamber. His anxiety rose the closer he got, but nothing would stop him.
Hannah was the one who opened the door. She looked surprised at the sight of him and she glanced behind her before facing Jerome again. “Mr. Cooper,” she murmured.
“I take it Louisa is inside?” he asked.
Hannah hesitated. “Yes, Mr. Cooper. But she says she does not want any company tonight.”
“I am afraid she does not have a choice in the matter.” With only a swipe of his hand, Jerome pushed past Hannah and entered. He spotted Louisa instantly, sitting by her vanity table. Her back was turned to him as she slowly ran a brush through her golden hair.
Jerome raised his hand and the maids behind him hurried in to place the food. Once they were finished, the servants all left. Jerome did not take his eyes off her once.
“Louisa,” Jerome called, his voice gentle yet firm. “Come and eat.”
She said nothing. She continued her slow stokes until her strands shone. Jerome approached her from behind. He wished he could reach out and touch her, to hug her and tell her how sorry he was. But he understood that Louisa was not that sort of lady. She could not be wooed by sweet words under a romantic moon. She was as rational as she was passionate and he knew that if he wanted her forgiveness, he would have to be the same.
He went to sit on the hassock at the end of her bed and began, “My mother and I grew up poor. Once it became known that she would be bearing the child of the duke, she left the manor, leaving behind her post as a scullery maid. She knew that she would not have a place in his life, and she was right. So she tried to care for me herself, taking on whatever positions she could find.”
Louisa did not stop brushing her hair. If Jerome didn’t know any better, he would think she was not listening to him. Believing that she was, he continued.
“I do not remember much from when I was younger. Only hungry nights and long days. But when I was about four-and-ten, I remember my mother taking me to the alehouse where she had been hired to tend to the patrons and serve their drinks. She would always work late into the night, so she would often have me stay with her. I did so many nights, most of them a blur. This night in particular, I cannot forget.”
Her movements were slower now. She was clearly listening, even though she was far too stubborn to turn around.
Jerome went on, “There was a man who would frequent the alehouse often. He would harass my mother verbally, but she would always brush it off. She was a strong woman and knew how to choose her battles, but I didn’t know that back then. That night, he seemed especially pestering and I remembered wondering why she wouldn’t tell him to desist. She’d never hesitated to do that before, but now that I am older, I understand. Working in an alehouse meant there were certain things she would have to put up with for the sake of her wage.”
“As a child, I sat there and watched as he annoyed her. He was taken with her and would touch her whenever he got the chance. He would make comments about her, trying to persuade her into returning to his home with him. Sometimes she would laugh it off, other times she would ignore it completely. This night, she must have been upset about something because she snapped at him.”
The memory was so vivid that Jerome felt as if he was there again. Only this time, he was watching the scene unfold alongside a blond-haired maiden who refused to acknowledge him. “She would always tell me to sit where I was and keep out of trouble. Even then, I did not want her to worry about me any more than she already did, and so I did as I was told. I tried to ignore it, believing that he would stop after a while. But this time, he lashed out at her. I heard the slap from across the room, followed by her horrified scream. I didn’t even think before I went after him.”
Jerome chuckled darkly, remembering how his skinny limbs had pounded harmlessly into the burly man, hoping to draw blood. “The anger I had felt at that time was quite alarming considering how young I was. But when I saw that his slap had busted my mother’s lip open, that her cheek was already growing red, I didn’t think. I picked up a tankard and threw it at him. I’d hoped to knock him out, but it only got him wet with his ale—and infuriated him even more. Ignoring my mother’s screams, he’d picked me up and threw me across the alehouse.”
Jerome touched his chest, seeking out the silver scars that still adorned him to this day. “He didn’t stop there. My mother tried to fend him off, but she was weak compared to his anger. He was also quite inebriated and there weren’t many others present
. Those who were there would much rather keep to themselves than get involved. They did nothing as he made his way over to me and broke a chair over my body.”
Louisa stopped brushing her hair, her hand resting in her lap. Jerome wished he could see her face. “He broke my arm. I tried to fight back but I was hungry and weak. I was nothing compared to him and neither was my mother. Splinters sliced my chest open as well, which took weeks to heal. I still have the scars to this day.” He huffed a laugh, remembering ruefully what had happened next. “My mother was afraid that I would die from my injuries, so she went to the only person she thought would be able to help: my father. Fortunately, he helped me, providing his personal physician and having me stay at the manor during my recovery. It was difficult adjusting, especially knowing that I was my father’s only child and that was the only reason he cared to help me. But I never forgot that day.”