Trevor clapped his hand on Hawthorne’s shoulder. “I doubt she is who you think. By the way she was dressed that evening when I hit her, I can assure you she had probably made Seven Dials her home.”
“How utterly sad,” Hawthorne mumbled. “She does not have the appearance of one of those varmints. In fact, by the delicate way she moves and her tiny build, I would have assumed she was born of Quality.”
Trey chuckled. “Dominic, my good man, I know you are desperate to find a willing maid, but really, you need not look at my brother’s servants.” He motioned his hand toward the flower garden. “I’m quite certain you can find them anywhere.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. Trey would always think this way, even though he had a lovely wife at home. Thankfully, Judith kept Trey under her thumb—which was where Trey wanted to be anyhow. Unfortunately, Dominic Lawrence was still a confirmed bachelor.
“Gentlemen,” Trevor began, “I think we can forget this matter and begin our ride—”
“Is it true she lost her memory?” Hawthorne asked.
Silently, Trevor groaned. “Yes, it is. The girl has yet to remember anything. Not even the accident.”
“Amazing, don’t you agree?” Trey ran his fingers through his dark hair as he narrowed his gaze out the window. “I cannot fathom what it could possibly be for that girl not to remember anything.”
Trevor folded his arms. “Believe me, the girl cannot even remember her last name. My housekeeper had her help in the kitchen last evening, and Louisa messed up her duties terribly. I’m quite certain it was because she just could not remember her upbringing. The girl does not even know how to cook.”
Dominic grinned and tapped his finger on his bottom lip. “Gentlemen, we are forgetting one thing. Louisa is not a girl.”
Although Hawthorne ogled her like a sweetmeat, Trevor couldn’t stop gaping at the way the servant’s dress fit snug against her. Now that her hair had been wound into a bun, he could see more of her slender neck. He didn’t need to close his eyes to remember what she looked like standing in her nightdress with her hair long and flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Interest stirred inside him and he wished it hadn’t. In fact, it had been stirring inside him quite a bit lately…even at night in his dreams.
Blowing out an irritated breath, Trevor turned away from the window and walked toward the door. “Gentlemen, are you coming? I’m in the mood for a ride around the estate. I do not want to stand in front of a window all day ogling a servant girl.” When Hawthorne whipped an accusing scowl Trevor’s way, he retorted, “Forgive me. I mean woman.”
Finally, Trey and Hawthorne pulled away from the window and followed Trevor outside. As he headed toward the stables, Dominic ventured toward the flower garden. Trevor groaned. What was wrong with that man? He couldn’t be that desperate for a wench.
As Trevor approached Lord Hawthorne, Dominic had just introduced himself to Louisa, and raised her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. Inwardly, Trevor seethed. The rake. Was his friend seducing Trevor’s servant right here in front of everyone?
“And this is Lord Trey, His Grace’s younger brother,” Hawthorne finished introductions.
Louisa smiled and curtsied. Thankfully, Trey didn’t kiss the woman’s hand like Hawthorne did, or Trevor would have reprimanded his brother.
Trevor took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm his impatience. When Louisa’s gaze met his, her green eyes twinkled. Her eyes hadn’t done this when her attention had been on Hawthorne or Trey. Trevor wished she’d stop looking at him this way...and he wished his heart didn’t leap with excitement when she did.
He smiled. “Louisa, it does me good to see you out in the garden today.”
“Well, Your Grace, Mrs. Smythe thought I needed to be outside and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, so she turned me over to the good graces of Mrs. Fitzwilliam and the gardener.”
He tilted his head, studying her completion. “Mrs. Smythe is correct. You do need a bit more color to your face. I trust you are feeling better today?”
“Yes. Much better.”
Trey nudged him with his elbow. “Oh, Trevor, old boy, clearly you can see how well she looks. Her face is positively glowing.”
Her smile widened, making her amazing eyes glisten more.
“Splendid, now if you will excuse us Louisa—”
“Miss Louisa,” Hawthorne cut him off. “I must say, you do look a bit familiar to me. Have you ever been in Mayfair, by chance?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I cannot say, my lord. Even though I’m recovered from my accident, my memory still has yet to return.” She stepped closer and hesitantly laid her finger on Hawthorne’s gloved hand. “But please, tell me if you know who I am. I feel so lost without my memory.”
“I fear, I cannot say whether I know you or not. You just look familiar.”
Frowning, she dropped her hand and stepped back.
“Come now, Hawthorne,” Trevor spoke up. “You have upset the woman. Let us adjourn on our ride and let her be.”
“Forgive me, Louisa.” Hawthorne smiled. “I hope your day improves.”
“I’m certain it will, my lord.”
As the men walked away, Trevor found himself sneaking a peek back at her. Sadness lurked in her expression, but when her gaze met his, she smiled. He gave her a polite nod and turned away, once again wishing she wouldn’t react in this manner. Yet, he nearly encouraged her behavior. Why couldn’t he stop?
The men mounted their saddled horses and began their ride. At first it was quiet, which gave Trevor a moment’s peace. He’d always enjoyed riding, and it didn’t matter if he had company or not. It surprised him that his visitors weren’t talking like loose-lipped women. Glancing back, Trevor studied their expressions. His younger brother appeared deep in thought, and poor Hawthorne...that man couldn’t stop looking back toward the house. Could the man really have met Louisa somewhere in Mayfair? Yet if the young woman were indeed of noble birth, wouldn’t her family be looking for her by now? And that certainly didn’t explain the scars on her back.
“Trey?” Trevor finally broke the silence. “How is that lovely wife of yours?”
His younger brother grinned wide. “Perfect, as always. She loves being a wife and mother.”
Trevor nodded. “Judith is certainly a gem. The best thing that ever happened to you, if I might say.”
“I agree,” Hawthorne chimed in. “I have never seen you happier.”
Trey chuckled. “And with our long-lost brother, Tristan, home again, life is definitely good.”
“Indeed, it is,” Trevor agreed. “I just wish Tristan would not stay cooped inside the house with Mother so much. If he’s not there, he’s in wasting away in his London townhouse. He needs to get out and meet new people. And for sure, he needs to forget about Lady Hollingsworth.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Hawthorne’s voice grew loud. “Have you heard the startling news? Lord Hollingsworth died late last night. From what I have heard, the police do not know what to make of it.”
At the same time, Trevor and his brother pulled their horses to a stop. Hollingsworth was not a name either of them wanted to hear...especially the lord’s wife. She was the very reason Tristan had nearly lost his life.
Trevor scowled. “Dead, you say? Are you jesting, Hawthorne?”
Trey murmured a curse and shook his head.
Lord Hawthorne leaned forward on his horse and stroked the mane. “It was a shock, to be sure. Lady Hollingsworth found him passed out drunk in the stables that night. The man was not wearing a stitch of clothing. She was so disgusted with her husband, she left him there, but a few hours later the stable boy found his lordship dead.”
“What is this news going to do to Tristan?” Trey asked.
Trevor hardened his jaw, fearful to say anything at this moment. The Worthington family hated Lord Hollingsworth. All of them wished the man dead. But now… Indeed, what would this kind of news do to Tristan’s well being?
Trey urged his horse into a walk, which the others did as well. “I would like to think Tristan is over that, but sometimes...” He shrugged. “Sometimes he grows quiet and I wonder if he does not still think about her.”
“Well, I pray he does not get any wild ideas now that she’s a widow.” Trevor adjusted himself in the saddle. “That woman broke his heart once, I would hate for her to have the chance to do it again.”
The other two men nodded. Trevor pushed his steed faster. He’d definitely take the time to talk to Tristan now. His brother’s head injury from two years ago had brought trauma on the family and Tristan took a long time to recover. Finally he seemed normal again, and Trevor couldn’t let anything disrupt his brother’s life. Especially now.
An hour later, the men stopped by a pond to rest their horses. Dominic and Trey had been chatting back and forth during the ride, but seldom did Trevor join in. Now the two seemed remarkably quiet. Trevor prayed the two would remain this way until they left the estate.
“I cannot stop thinking about Louisa,” Hawthorne broke the silence.
Silently, Trevor groaned.
“You know,” Trey said. “Mother was telling me she thought Louisa might be Lord and Lady Danvers’ daughter.”
Trevor shook his head and moved away from the pond, closer to his brother. “Trey, would Louisa really be their daughter? I would think by now her family would be missing her. Am I correct? Besides that, I do not think they have a daughter.”
Trey shrugged.
“Actually,” Hawthorne said, “I recall a conversation I had with Viscount Wellesley a few years ago. He mentioned having a younger cousin who drowned when she was twelve years old.” He met Trevor’s eyes. “How old do you suppose Louisa is? If I remember correctly, the drowning happened six years ago…that would make his cousin nineteen.”
“She does not look that age.” Trevor shook his head.
Trey scratched his chin. “Yet, in a way she does. There is something in her eyes that speaks of a hard life.”
“Are you saying Louisa could be the Danvers’ daughter and never drowned?” Trevor asked.
“That’s what I’m saying.” Trey nodded.
“Then why has she not been with her family all these years?” Hawthorne wondered.
Trey shrugged. “Perhaps she lost her memory all those years ago instead of when you hit her with the carriage?”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Trevor rolled his eyes. “If that were the case, she would not have acted so distraught when realizing she did not have a memory.” He grumbled and turned to mount his horse. This was how gossip began, and he wouldn’t have anymore of it. “Gentlemen, I grow weary of this discussion. I’m heading back to the manor with or without you.”
* * * *
Louisa clipped a few more dead leaves before turning her gaze in the direction where the men had rode off. She didn’t expect them to return anytime soon, but still...it was nice to watch nonetheless. Lord Hawthorne seemed very friendly, but not at all familiar. He thought he knew her, but she doubted he did. Although handsome, he didn’t spark her memory at all. It surprised her to think he actually flirted with her, yet it was still Kensington who held her attention.
Trevor.
His brother had called him by his given name, a name she hadn’t heard until today. Now she couldn’t stop repeating it in her mind. What a glorious, masculine name. Dreamily, she sighed. If only she were a true lady, he might look at her as a woman. Instead, all he saw was a servant—or the vagabond he’d rescued.
When she caught herself not focusing, she snapped her attention back to the rose bush. Dawdling is not tolerated. Yet, the raspy voice from the dark recesses of her mind that disturbed her from time to time slowly diminished and peace settled over her. Although she received the impression she hadn’t been allowed leisure time in her past, she was given more freedom to do so now. Her work still had to be done, but at least her mind could create another world for her dreams.
Still, it didn’t stop her from wishing she were someone else. The vision she’d had about being at a ball as a young girl—or at least witnessing it—seemed so real. She’d love to have that kind of life, even if she were the personal maid for the lady of the house.
So lost in her dreams, she didn’t realize what she was doing until Mrs. Fitzwilliam gasped. Louisa jerked alert and glanced at the woman whose wide eyes were directed on the flower bush in front of Louisa. She swung her attention to what she’d been cutting. A sob gushed from her throat. All around her feet littered the beautiful flowers she’d cut to shreds.
“What have you done?” the other woman shrieked as she yanked the clippers out of Louisa’s hands.
She groaned. “Please, forgive me. I—I—I wasn’t watching. I didn’t pay attention—”
“Obviously.” Mrs. Fitzwilliam rolled her eyes. “I’m relieved you only destroyed one bush instead of the others in his lordship’s garden.”
“As am I.”
“What in heaven’s name were you thinking?”
“I was not thinking, which is clearly my problem. I daydream so often.”
“Daydream?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry. I shan’t do it again.”
Mrs. Fitzwilliam placed hands on her beefy hips. “Woolgathering should not be done while we are working. This is probably why you ruined his lordship’s meal last night.”
“Actually, it was because I confused the herbs.”
“If you are ever going to prove yourself to us and his lordship, you have to focus.”
Louisa nodded. “I understand. Again, please forgive me.”
The other woman handed the clippers back to Louisa and nodded at the next bush. “See if you can trim that without cutting every last flower.”
“Thank you.” She walked around the shredded rose bush to find another one. Against her legs rubbed something soft and furry. Startled, she jumped away and looked down, thinking she’d see a rodent. Instead, a gray kitten mewed and gaze up at her.
“Oh, look what I found.” She scooped the kitten in her arms. The animal purred and rubbed its face against her arm. She turned to the other woman. “I didn’t know his lordship had cats.”
Mrs. Fitzwilliam narrowed her gaze on the kitten. “They are all kept in the stable, to keep the mice away from the grain. This animal is probably one of those.”
Louisa petted the soft fur. “The kitten does not look as if he’s been fed properly.”
“Well then, perhaps he isn’t one that’s kept in the stables. I will have Murray take it away.”
“Oh, no.” Louisa stopped her. “Why can we not keep it?”
The other servant crinkled her nose. “Keep it? You cannot be serious. You are a servant, Louisa, not a child.”
How she wanted to snap at the obtuse woman for that comment. Of course Louisa wasn’t a child. Just because she wanted a kitten didn’t make her youthful. She continued to pet the animal, the soft fur soothing her temperament. “Adults have had pets before, have they not?”
“Yes, but you have no place to keep it, and Murray is not going to want another varmint in his stables. He cleans after horses all day; he’s not going to take care of a pet for you as well.”
Shrugging, Louisa turned her back on the other lady and slowly strolled along the stone path toward the lawn. Kittens were such helpless creatures, needing someone to take care of them. They were perfect for children.
Just then a stern voice boomed through the silence coming from over by the house. Mrs. Jacobs marched with the children toward the lawn. Louisa gasped. Marched? Both Adam and Amanda’s faces were drawn into frowns as their stiff bodies marched in time with Mrs. Jacob’s calls. Two-year olds don’t march.
“I shall r
eturn momentarily,” Louisa called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the twins. When she neared, they looked at her and slowed their pace. When their eyes rested on the kitten in her arms, they stopped and turned toward Louisa. She smiled. “Would you like to pet him?”
She crouched as they ran up to her. Grins lit up their cherubic faces, and the sun glinted off their golden hair, almost giving it a strawberry tint. Adorable children.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Inwardly, Louisa groaned. How did she forget about Mrs. Jacobs? She met the old nurse’s glare and smiled politely. “I’m letting the twins pet the kitten.”
“How dare you interrupt us? Could you not see we were marching?”
“Indeed, I did see it, but I thought you were playing a game.”
“A game?” Mrs. Jacobs shrieked. “Marching is not a game.”
Louisa shrugged. “Well, it should be if you ask me, since marching is not for children. So I thought the twins would enjoy petting a kitten instead.”
“Oh.” The older woman huffed. “You dare to go against my activities for the children?”
Louisa tilted her head. “Actually, that thought did not cross my mind, but now that it has, I must say how appalled I am that you are making these children march.”
Red blotches colored the woman’s face as she opened and closed her mouth as if trying to catch flies. “I am their nurse, not you.”
“That you are, but I would think you could find something better for them to do besides march. They are only two-years-old, for heaven’s sake. They are not in training for His Majesties’ Forces.”
Mrs. Jacobs lifted her chin in a challenge. “This is the age to start shaping them to walk like ladies and gentlemen.”
Louisa snorted a laugh. “Pray, Mrs. Jacobs, how many ladies have you seen marching down the street in Town? For that matter, how many gentleman? Although I have only been in this house a little over a week, I cannot say I have seen his lordship march at all.”
The twins giggled.
“Oh, this is utter...nonsense.” The nurse threw up her hands as she glanced around the yard. “Where is His Grace? He shall know of this at once.”
The Sweetest Touch Page 7