by Gayle Callen
He scowled.
“Or you don’t want people coming on you unawares when you can’t see them. You care very much what people think about you.”
He took a step closer to her and raised a hand, passing it slowly before her. She watched in surprise and curiosity. When he neared the heat of her candle, she almost called out a warning. But he leaned toward it and blew out the flame.
Because she was so startled, a small gasp escaped her. She knew she shouldn’t have betrayed herself, because a reaction must be what he wanted. Her eyes, unaccustomed to the dark, could not see him.
“Is the candle out?” he asked.
“Yes.” She whispered, as if things were too intimate in the dark with him.
In the tense silence, she remained still, knowing he was before her—or was he?
When he spoke, he was behind her, and she jumped.
“This is my world, Miss Shelby,” he murmured.
It was her turn to feel his breath, and it bathed her neck with a heat so very foreign. She didn’t know what he meant to do; he might as well have been a stranger—or one of the relatives of her last employer, who had always kept trying to come upon her alone.
But it was strangely thrilling to be sharing the darkness with Lord Wade.
“Right now you don’t know where I am,” he continued.
This time he was on her right side, a solid presence.
“Or what I’ll do. This is what I live with every day. You’ll have to pardon me if my behavior doesn’t suit your expectations.”
She lifted her chin. “Why aren’t you telling this to your family? They want to share your feelings. Instead you pretend that things haven’t changed, all in an attempt to keep them from being hurt. But it’s all right to make a stranger uncomfortable?”
“You’re not a stranger.”
He was in front of her again, closer this time. Though she wore but a nightdress and dressing gown, her skin buzzed with awareness, and surely the folds of the gown seemed to move, as if something brushed against it near her feet. Her breath was coming far too fast, but it wasn’t in fear.
She licked her lips. “I’m almost a stranger. We had only conversed a few times.”
“I still remember what you look like.”
She was startled, intrigued, flattered. “Of all the women who gathered around you everywhere you went, how could you remember me?”
“You have red hair, blue eyes, and the whitest skin that shows every blush.”
She was blushing now—she was hot with it. She kept expecting him to touch her; she admitted to herself that she wanted him to. The expectation was maddening, confusing.
He made a sound she could not place. “And there were always admirers gathered around you, too,” he said.
Her eyes were adjusting; faint moonlight shone through the tall windows, and she could see the outline of him dark before her, too close, as she’d known he was. A shadow man. She closed her eyes to be one with him in the darkness again.
Chapter 5
Simon knew she had not moved since he’d begun to tease her. He thought he could hear her heart pounding; he could definitely hear the sound of her breath, moving rapidly in and out of her lungs. He imagined her breasts rising and falling with it.
She couldn’t be wearing much. If he could see, he might be able to tell if her nipples were erect, if her lips were parted. Surely she was experiencing desire; she wasn’t afraid of him.
Or was she? Was he misunderstanding this whole confrontation? He knew he should be angry with her, with her assumptions that she understood him. Instead he was powerfully aroused. Did she not feel the same? It was agonizing not to be able to tell, not to read her expressions. He had never known until he was blind how much his sight really told him about a person’s thoughts.
“If you knew I had gentlemen around me,” she said, “then you were aware of me—as if you were an admirer, too.”
He knew she was trying to be bold, but her voice trembled. For a moment, she didn’t sound like a woman who knew how to lead on a man.
He told himself she was not new to this flirtation. He could kiss her, and he would not be the first.
But something held him back, and it wasn’t fear of rejection, or fear of looking foolish. Not with this woman who so bravely stood alone in the night with him.
Why did she allow this to happen? What did she hope to gain with a blind man?
But he played along with it, knowing it was dangerous, but just not to which one of them. “Every man was your admirer,” he said. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
He slowly reached forward, and his fingers touched her trembling stomach. For just a moment, he imagined he could feel the softness of it, covered so temptingly, so barely, in the silk of her nightclothes. No plain cotton for Louisa Shelby.
Then she backed up so suddenly that he could hear her hit the wall.
“I must go,” she whispered.
“But you can’t see.”
“My eyes have adjusted to the moonlight.”
“But some of the corridors have no windows.”
She didn’t ask him to escort her—just as he wouldn’t have asked in her place.
“There’s still a small fire in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll light your candle. Hand it to me.”
He put his palm out, and she set the heavy candleholder in it. There was no fumbling on her part. The moonlight really must be helping her.
Once again they were on unequal ground.
“Wait here,” he said.
She had been right earlier; he didn’t want her to watch him. When he brought the candle back out to her, she took it from him, said good night, and hurried away.
He was left alone with his frustration.
Louisa spent the next day far too aware of Lord Wade. She could hear his voice in the great hall, or the tap of his cane down a corridor leading to his study. She didn’t want him to know how he made her feel—or heaven forbid if his family should see her dilemma. She was embarrassed to be so attracted to him.
In the afternoon, as she changed clothing in preparation for the arrival of Lady Wade’s guests, Louisa could not forget his words, that every man was her admirer, and wasn’t it what she wanted. She wished she would have had the presence of mind to tell him that all women wanted to be admired. There was nothing wrong with that, other than a little vanity.
But when he’d said it, it sounded…sordid.
And then he’d touched her, and she’d known she had to run. All right, she hadn’t exactly run, and she was proud of that.
But not much else. She’d wanted him to touch her.
So much for being of help.
She took a deep breath. She had to get control of herself. She was attracted to the viscount, but she had to ignore those feelings. She was here to help. Her goal had expanded from being Lady Wade’s companion, to Miss Wade’s instructor, and now Lord Wade’s—what? Friend? It was obvious he was in turmoil, behaving one way in front of his family and another in front of her. Perhaps he had touched her to deliberately drive her away.
Did he want to be alone in the night? In only a couple days, she’d come across him that way twice now. Maybe he couldn’t sleep. Or…was he in despair?
She sucked in a breath, and worry enveloped her. Her father had kept his despair hidden from them all until it was too late. Wouldn’t grief be all the more powerful if one were never going to see again? Was Lord Wade hiding the same terrible secret her father had?
It seemed so difficult to believe. He wasn’t retreating from his family, as her father had done—although he was hiding behind a genial mask when he was with them. Wasn’t that a form of retreat?
Lord Wade was carrying on with his work; he had purpose, where her father somehow thought he’d lost his, and was ashamed. Family hadn’t been enough purpose for her father.
But Lord Wade was definitely ashamed of his blindness. He was a man who used to live to be among people at parties and dinners. And he’d given all of it up
. No conversing at dinner parties, no singing in the evenings, no card playing with his gentlemen friends. His old life was gone.
Louisa would have to keep an eye on him, putting aside her own foolish emotions and needs.
Feeling calm and full of purpose once again, she left her room and went to the drawing room to join Lady Wade before her guests arrived. She was having several women to tea, and Louisa would use this opportunity to watch Miss Wade’s behavior, and come up with the next step in her plan to help the girl.
Heaven knew she couldn’t imagine how she could help Lord Wade. But she could not let him give in to despair, even if it meant alerting his family to his dilemma.
Four ladies, middle aged and older, were being escorted into the drawing room by the butler when Louisa arrived. She took her place away from the main grouping of chairs and sofas. Miss Wade gave her a smile, but she looked nervous, pale, unlike her usual cheerful self.
The ladies chattered on about their neighbors, and their neighbors’ children, and who was betrothed to whom. But Louisa continued to watch Miss Wade, who seldom spoke unless asked a direct question. When a teacart was wheeled into the room, her eyes went wide as if it were a monster come to attack her.
But biting her lip, she dutifully began to serve her grandmother’s friends. It might have been better for all if Louisa had offered in her place.
Miss Wade spilled tea, dropped a cucumber sandwich on the floor, and in general made herself the object of pity. She was miserable in her lack of confidence.
She only brightened when the butler entered and intoned, “Mr. Paul Reyburn.”
Mr. Reyburn was not a man who dominated the room with his physical presence; he wasn’t excessively tall, nor could his looks rival Lord Wade’s. But his personality more than made up for it.
“Lady Wade,” he said laughingly, “if I would have known you were having a party, I would have come sooner.”
All the ladies laughed and tittered like hens around a rooster.
“My grandson is not present, as you can see,” Lady Wade said fondly. “But you are welcome to stay and visit with us.”
“What grandson?” Mr. Reyburn asked, moving about the room, bowing to each of the ladies in turn. “I only came for you, my lady.”
Then he saw Miss Wade, and he made an elaborate show of turning abruptly and presenting her with an exaggerated bow. “The lovely Miss Wade,” he said, smiling at her from beneath laughing eyes.
Though Miss Wade blushed, she waved off his display with amusement. “Mr. Reyburn, you’re having a boring afternoon and relieving it at our expense.”
“Hardly at your expense,” he said, putting his hand to his chest in horror. “Surely you cannot fault a man for wanting to be entertained by your loveliness.”
Louisa thought he reminded her of Lord Wade, brash and smiling and teasing. The style obviously suited Miss Wade, for she treated him almost as fondly as she treated her brother. Louisa would have to instill her with the confidence to treat everyone the same way.
“I thought I heard another male voice,” said Lord Wade from the doorway. “Perhaps I’m not outnumbered after all.”
He stood beside his valet, not touching him. Louisa felt a strange little shiver just looking at him, but she ignored it. He was wearing a charming grin, donned purposefully for his grandmother, Louisa suspected.
Mr. Reyburn turned to look at him. “Ah, this grandson, Lady Wade. He’s been so reclusive that I forgot about him.”
Lord Wade smoothly put a hand on Manvil’s shoulder—as if it was always right where he needed it—and entered the room. Louisa watched him greet the ladies as one by one they reminded him who they were. One deliberately raised her voice—Lady Wade winced—but Lord Wade took no noticeable offense.
When Lord Wade reached Mr. Reyburn, Mr. Reyburn said something in a low voice, and Lord Wade laughed.
Louisa’s whole day brightened at just the sound of his amusement.
Lord Wade said, “And have you met my grandmother’s companion, Miss Shelby?”
Louisa felt all eyes turn to her, and she rose smoothly to her feet.
“Miss Shelby,” Mr. Reyburn said, giving her a bow.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she answered, curtsying.
“I mean no disrespect, Miss Shelby,” Mr. Reyburn said, turning to the older ladies, “but Lady Wade, you are not old enough to need a companion.”
Everyone laughed, including Louisa, who said, “I have thought that myself.”
She felt Lord Wade’s concentration on her, but she kept reminding herself that he couldn’t see her. She would do her best to ignore the way her pulse fluttered, and her stomach contracted in memory of his bold touch. He was only trying to distract her from seeing him too closely.
“You young people enjoy your teasing,” Lady Wade said. “Gentlemen, go on and escort the young ladies for a turn in the garden. I’ll have refreshments sent to the terrace. We old ladies need time to discuss our physical complaints.”
Some of the women gasped at her frankness, but Miss Wade practically jumped to her feet.
“What a good idea, Grandmama. Come along, Simon.” She entwined her arm with her brother’s and expertly led him through the drawing room.
Mr. Reyburn held out his arm to Louisa, and although she took it, she said, “Lady Wade, are you certain you do not need me?”
“Go, Miss Shelby. It is a beautiful day.”
She and Mr. Reyburn followed Miss Wade and her brother to the terrace. It was an unusually warm spring day, and the sun felt good on her face.
“Miss Shelby,” Mr. Reyburn said, “if you don’t mind my saying, you seem familiar to me. Are you often in London?”
“Yes, I was raised there. And you seem familiar to me,” she said, as they caught up with the Wade siblings.
Lord Wade smiled. “Paul, how can you forget Miss Shelby? She was one of three sisters, and their father was a banker.”
So she was unforgettable? Louisa thought, feeling pleased and flattered.
“Ah, yes,” Mr. Reyburn said, looking at her with more interest. “Your sister married Lord Thurlow. I am a member of Parliament, in the House of Commons with him.” He glanced back at Lord Wade. “Although someday I’ll be there alone, because Lord Thurlow will have taken his father’s seat in the Lords. Simon should already be there.”
Lord Wade frowned good-naturedly. “Don’t scare the girl off, Paul. You know how women hate politics.”
Louisa arched a brow. “We hate politics? Such a shame I didn’t tell my father that, instead of talking with him about the Corn Laws late into the night. In your expert opinion, what do we females like to discuss, my lord?”
Miss Wade laughed and tried to drag her brother away. “No politics! You promised I would have a walk in the sunshine, away from complaints of gout and hearing loss.”
But Louisa could not miss the nervous look she cast between the men. She didn’t want them to discuss politics? Or Parliament itself? Was she worried that Lord Wade would think he had to forgo his seat there?
After Miss Wade guided her brother down the stone stairs of the terrace to the gravel path below, Lord Wade turned back as if looking at Louisa.
“Accept the truth, Miss Shelby. You women like to talk about hats. An endless discussion of them.”
“Hats?” she said incredulously.
Mr. Reyburn held up his arm again and she rested her hand on it. “Ignore him, Miss Shelby. He likes to think he knows the female mind.”
“Then he must be displaying an astounding ignorance of it for a particular reason.”
Mr. Reyburn smiled, looking uncertain of her wit, but she saw Lord Wade’s shoulders shake, as if he were trying not to laugh.
She was pleasantly satisfied.
As the path widened, the two couples were able to walk abreast, and Louisa enjoyed listening to the men talk. Mr. Reyburn asked Lord Wade his opinion about a factory he was considering purchasing, and Lord Wade spoke about the poor conditions for wome
n and children in such jobs, sounding perfectly ready to take his place in the House of Lords. He was not the featherhead he had sometimes seemed at so many of the parties she’d attended. But then she already knew how good he was at hiding part of himself.
Into a pleasant lull in the conversation, Louisa said, “You have a grasp of the practical that impresses me, Lord Wade. I never would have guessed.”
Mr. Reyburn laughed, Miss Wade caught her breath, and Lord Wade came to a stop, dragging his sister with him.
“Are you calling me shallow, Miss Shelby?” he inquired pleasantly.
She grinned, enjoying bantering with this particular man. “You are very good at projecting that when you want to, my lord.”
“She has you, Simon,” Mr. Reyburn said, leading the way back up to the terrace.
A display of cider and cakes had been left on a wrought-iron table. Louisa watched with a frown as Miss Wade made sure to pull out a chair for her brother and guide him into it. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing; perhaps he didn’t want to hurt his sister’s feelings.
To Louisa’s surprise, Miss Wade placed a slice of cake before him and proceeded to cut it into small pieces. Mr. Reyburn studiously ate his own cake, but Louisa was too intrigued to feign disinterest. Did Miss Wade think her brother would allow her to hand-feed him? If he could walk about an entire mansion unassisted, he could find the food on his plate with a fork. But would he?
Miss Wade was trying to do too much for him. She was trying to coax her brother back into the world, whether it was through his business dealings, or with food.
Didn’t Lord Wade realize that by her constant attention to him, Miss Wade was gladly letting go of her own life?
Miss Wade lifted her chin resolutely. “Simon, I placed a piece of cake in front of you. Shall I help you eat it?”
Lord Wade smiled politely, although Louisa watched his hands clench in his lap.
“No, thank you, Georgie. I’m not hungry.”
Her lips trembling, Miss Wade looked away, ignoring her own piece of cake. The ensuing silence was awkward.
Mr. Reyburn swallowed and took a sip of cider. “Simon, I rode over on that new gelding I told you about.”