by Gayle Callen
“Of course, my lady.”
“Good. Now why don’t you read this letter back to me, because my eyes are quite tired today, and I’ve lost my place.”
Louisa humored her, even though Lady Wade’s eyesight was sharp, and she saw too much.
The Chester sisters stayed for dinner, and Mr. Wade charmed them until their faces were red from laughing and blushing. Louisa watched one of the sisters glance repeatedly at Simon, who, though quieter than normal, still participated. Perhaps this was what Lady Wade meant by Louisa helping Simon. Was she supposed to make him see that women found him intriguing?
Or had Lady Wade had a third reason for hiring Louisa from the beginning—for Simon himself?
Now that Lady Wade knew the truth, surely she couldn’t believe such a union possible.
Louisa’s self-assurance was taking a beating, and she was disgusted with herself. She made an effort to converse normally during dinner. After dinner, feeling wide awake, she browsed the library for a book. She didn’t flee when Simon found her and closed the doors behind him, leaving them alone with each other.
He said nothing, just waited. Though she wanted to deny them, her feelings for him overwhelmed her. In just a day she’d missed being with him, missed enjoying his beauty and laughing at his humor. He rarely felt sorry for himself—as she was doing today. She’d missed how he’d made her feel aware of her body, aware of its response to him. Regardless of the motives for his kisses, she’d responded to them like a starving woman.
How was she supposed to forget that? How could she keep reminding herself that those same kisses surely meant nothing to him?
She cleared her throat. “May I help you, Simon?”
“At least you’re not ‘my lord’-ing me.”
He moved smoothly around the furniture and came toward her. She wanted to back away, but held her ground, though her heart pounded with both desire and sadness.
“And you’re speaking to me,” he continued.
She heard uncertainty in his voice, and her own tension eased.
“You thought I’d ignore you?”
“You did last night,” he said.
“I—I needed to be alone, I guess, to think about everything that had happened.”
“Did Keane hurt you?”
“It’s too late to rescue me, Simon.”
He grimaced, and she realized how that sounded.
“Keane said you rescued yourself,” Simon said.
“With help from your brother.”
“If Keane bothers you again—”
“I’ve always been bothered by men, Simon,” she said, trying for humor but hearing bitterness in her voice. “I thought it was because I was pretty, and because my company was pleasant.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You are, and it is.”
“Ah, but there’s more. Thank you for making me understand, before something worse happened.”
He stepped closer, and she took another step away but found herself in the corner, books pressing into her on two sides.
“I never wanted you to know, Louisa. I may have been trying to protect Georgie, but damn it all, I was protecting you, too. The way your voice sounded when I told you, the hurt—God, maybe it’s a good thing I couldn’t see what was in your eyes.”
She closed them now, feeling the tears escape and slide in silent paths down her cheeks.
“Louisa,” he said gruffly, reaching out a hand.
“I’m all right,” she whispered, wondering whom she was trying to convince.
She meant to only pat his hand, but when she touched him, he held on, sliding both his hands up her arms to cup her face.
She stiffened, trying to pull away, but when his thumbs brushed her wet cheeks she stopped fighting.
He inhaled and whispered her name again, leaning down to her. “I didn’t want you to feel this way. I would take away every bit of your pain if I could.”
His thumbs continued to stroke her cheeks, then to her shock, he leaned down and kissed her tears, kissed her eyelids. His gentleness was her undoing. She clutched his arms to keep from falling into him. She had no defense against him, no anger.
When he continued to kiss her face, she tipped her head and their mouths met. He froze for only a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to go this far.
But she wanted him to. She wanted his closeness, his comfort, things to use in her battle against the bleak loneliness that might fill the rest of her days. She moved her mouth against his, then suddenly he was kissing her back. Their lips parted and searched, their tongues met and mated with a rising need that made her feel frantic to be closer to him.
She slid her arms around his waist, then let her palms press up against the heat of his back. He felt solid and real and so wonderful. His mouth was an intimacy that still surprised her. This was her third kiss—why did it still feel so glorious?
Perhaps because she knew that there was more, that his hands and mouth could work magic on her skin. She pressed even harder against him, and this time he was the one who broke the kiss. He lifted his head, his breathing still unsteady, his lungs filling to press against the ache in her breasts. She wanted to be touched there, but didn’t dare ask such a thing.
“Louisa,” he murmured her name, eyes half closed. “I shouldn’t have—I never want you to think that I am using you as someone like Keane would.”
“I don’t.” She kissed his chin, tucked her head against his neck and just let herself hold him. “Don’t give me explanations or defenses for what we feel. Let me just enjoy it, and not think about tomorrow.”
Simon held Louisa close. Though he desired her, though their kiss still wreaked havoc on his control, there was a comfort and a peace in holding her that he never expected.
He couldn’t understand why she didn’t hate him, but he was grateful at the same time. He should back off, not confuse either one of them with this intimacy, but the feel of her in his arms was more powerful than even passion.
He didn’t understand himself and what he was experiencing—he certainly didn’t want to look too closely. He saw himself as outside accepted conventions, knew he would never be a husband or father.
But when he held Louisa, he was lying to himself. For these brief moments he could pretend that his eyes were only closed, not blind, pretend that there were possibilities in the world.
But he forced himself to remember his reality—he was a blind man, and he’d allowed Louisa to be hurt. She wanted his comfort, and instead all he could think about was her body, and forgetting himself in the heat and the softness of it.
He lifted his head away from hers. She stirred and moaned and burrowed even closer against him. He drew a deep breath, so easily seduced by the possibilities. But he’d only hurt her worse.
“Louisa.” He whispered her name, tried to draw away.
“I don’t understand how I feel.”
She spoke the words against his throat, and he shuddered.
“But when I’m with you,” she continued, “everything else just goes away.”
She took his hand and placed it on her breast. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the soft mound hidden beneath corset and gown.
He stood on the edge, teetering, imagining taking her when she was so willing.
But they would be using each other to forget—him to forget his disability, his feeling of forever being on the outside, and her to forget her pain and uncertainty and worry.
He moved his hand from her breast, slid it up to cup her face. “Louisa, you would regret this. You would consider yourself as having finally proved all the rumors right. And you would think that I had used you. I don’t want to be that memory for you.”
He felt her tremble, felt her mouth open as if to deny his words.
Then she sighed. “No, we would be using each other,” she whispered. “You are too good to me, Simon.”
He forced a chuckle. “I don’t feel very good. Go to bed, Louisa.”
�
��Alone.”
He closed his eyes and stepped away. “Yes, alone.”
When she’d gone, the room felt cold and empty and lonely, and for the first time, he questioned whether that was what he wanted for the rest of his life.
Chapter 18
The next morning, Louisa awoke feeling almost at peace, even…hopeful. She could not change what people had said about her in the past; she could only live her life proving that she was a good person doing her best. Dreading the future only brought heartache; she would take each day as it came.
And as for Simon’s family, she could not leave them, not in hurt and defeat. For now, she would remain and finish what she’d started, helping Georgie, helping Simon.
Simon.
Even thinking his name made her shiver. He could have taken advantage of her weakness last night, but he hadn’t. He was such a good man. She could not deny herself the rare pleasure of his company, even if it was only temporary.
But somewhere inside her grew a hope that she dared not contemplate or give a name. A hope that she meant more to him than he realized.
Louisa was helping Lady Wade cut flowers for the manor early that afternoon when she saw Simon being escorted past her by Manvil. They were headed for the lake, and Simon’s daily rowing. He probably knew these paths as well as the layout of the house, but without walls to follow, he could not navigate.
So what could he use that would guide him down a path?
When an idea came to her, she gave a gasp of surprise. Lady Wade, who’d been behind a rhododendron, peered around the foliage and gave Louisa a puzzled look from beneath her bonnet.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Louisa said, smiling. “I just had a wonderful idea to aid your grandson. Might I be excused?”
Lady Wade reached for the basket that Louisa was holding. “By all means. It doesn’t take two of us to cut flowers. I just didn’t want you to be alone today.”
Louisa smiled at her. “You are too good to me, Lady Wade.”
A stable groom offered Louisa as much rope as she wanted, and she took several stakes as well. Down by the pier, she waved absently in response to Manvil’s shouted greeting from the middle of the lake, then used a rock to pound her stake into the soft earth just off the pier. She tied the end of the rope to the stake, then walked back toward the terrace, leaving the rope to trail loosely behind her on the path. She explained her plan to every gardener she passed, so that no one would remove the rope. When she reached the terrace, she tied the end to the balustrade that lined the stairs.
Basking in satisfaction, she looked over her work. It felt good to have done something useful. Now if only Simon would think so, too.
She was waiting at the pier when Manvil and Simon left the boat. While Manvil bent to tie it up, Louisa called, “Lord Wade!”
He turned swiftly around. The sunlight shimmered through his blond hair, and she enjoyed the sight of his deepening dimples when he gave her a slow smile. She was suddenly very warm, and she knew she blushed when Manvil glanced at her.
“I have a surprise for you,” Louisa said as Manvil escorted him down the pier and onto level ground.
Manvil gave an innocent smile. “I should be going.”
Louisa and Simon spoke at the same time.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”
“You can’t believe that—”
Manvil rolled his eyes. “I have real work to do, my lord.”
Simon shook his head, grinning. “Then go do it. Louisa will see me back to the house.”
“But I won’t need to,” Louisa said, feeling quite proud of herself.
Manvil hesitated.
“You want me to leave with Manvil?” Simon said doubtfully.
She blushed. “No, but I’ve done something that will help you walk about outside unassisted—well, actually, the end result will help. This is just preliminary.”
Though Manvil obviously saw the rope tied to the stake, he said, “I imagine we’re going to station all the servants at various points in the garden to call to you, my lord.”
Louisa stared in shock at the forward valet.
But Simon only laughed. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Louisa.”
She took his elbow and guided him to the stake. “Bend down and feel what’s at your feet, my lord.”
He leaned over, and she couldn’t help but watch the way his damp shirt hugged the muscles in his back, the way his trousers outlined—
She looked quickly at Manvil, but thank goodness he was watching his master instead of her.
“I feel a stake and a rope,” Simon said. “It is a rather loose rope. Do you mean me to follow it?”
“Yes, for now. The ropes will serve as a guide for the servants to build a railing.”
“A railing,” he echoed doubtfully.
“A railing could follow a path and lead you to the lake. Another one could lead you to the stables. You wouldn’t have to be confined to the house.”
Simon looked thoughtful. “You are good to think of me, Louisa, but surely that would be too much trouble—”
Manvil interrupted. “Trouble to put up some pieces of wood? It’s not terribly difficult work. I think it’s a brilliant idea, and I’ll talk to the head gardener about it.”
“I already mentioned it to him,” Louisa said. “Once I have your approval, I only have to lay out some paths, and they’ll build whatever I want—whatever you want, my lord.”
Manvil looked between them. “I have some ideas for paths. I’ll go consult.”
He left them, and Louisa watched Simon. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Was he upset that she hadn’t spoken to him first? She wanted to take his arm, to lean into him, to have him confide in her. Instead, she repeated his name softly.
He glanced her way. “It is an idea with merit, Louisa. I appreciate that you want to help.”
“So you will let the staff build this for you?”
He grinned. “I will think about it.”
“Then I will have to convince you,” she said firmly.
He took a step closer to her. “And how will you do that?”
“I will show you all the places you could go unassisted about this large estate.”
“Go with you, you mean?”
His voice had deepened, roughened, and it made her think of intimacies they could share.
“Not with me,” she quickly said, trying not to let him hear how flustered she was. “I’ll leave you clues.”
“Clues,” he repeated dubiously.
She lifted her chin. “Be patient, Simon. You’ll see.”
An hour later at the archery field, Louisa stood back, watching Georgie take aim with her bow. The sky was overcast, and occasional drops of rain had begun to fall, but Georgie had stubbornly wanted to finish her lesson. She was becoming quite skilled at the sport.
She released the arrow, and it hit the target only inches from the center. “Soon,” she mumbled.
“Soon what?” Louisa asked.
Georgie glanced at her, wearing a cool smile. “Soon I’ll be able to challenge Leo.”
Louisa laughed. “That’s your goal? Not self-improvement, or the satisfaction of knowing you’ve succeeded in challenging yourself?”
“Those things are nice, but I really want to defeat Leo.”
“I have another way you can show up your brother,” Louisa said slyly.
Georgie released another arrow and glanced at her with interest. “How?”
“At the village assembly this weekend. Dancing and socializing are some of Leo’s talents. To defeat him at those things would really bother him. Now before you say you don’t want to attend—”
“I’m attending.”
“—I think you should—oh.”
Louisa studied Georgie. She didn’t seem nervous or uncertain, just determined. A little too grimly determined.
As bigger raindrops began to fall, Georgie gathered together her equipment, and the two women quickly walked back toward the house.
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br /> “I’ve come to the realization,” Georgie said, “that if I would have continued avoiding Society functions, I would have ended up as my mother’s permanent companion.”
“And that’s your only motivation?” Louisa asked dubiously.
“No, of course not.” Georgie grinned. “But it’s important.”
“Simon has many homes, any one of which he’d be happy to let you live in.”
“Simon doesn’t want to be in his own household—that’s one reason he’s still with Grandmama.”
Louisa frowned. “Georgie—”
“No, I can already see I haven’t explained properly. The family seat of the viscountcy is in Derbyshire. Even if Simon weren’t blind, he would never go there. It’s a lonely bachelor household, and he has always liked having people in his life, even if he won’t admit it. That’s why he’s living with Grandmama. I need my own life, my own home. So I’ll go to the assembly.”
The rain began in earnest, and they ran the last few yards through the garden and up the terrace stairs. Only when they were safely inside, looking back out the window at the rain, did Louisa glance at her pupil with a new respect.
“I’m proud of you, Georgie,” she said softly.
“Don’t be.” Georgie wasn’t smiling. “It’s still very hard for me to attend these events. I am more competent now, I know. But I don’t feel the same as everyone else.”
“You don’t know how they feel.” Louisa rested her shoulder against the window frame so that she could face her pupil. “At the beginning, it’s hard for everyone.”
“But I’m no longer at the beginning, am I?” She gave a sad shake of her head and smiled. “I don’t feel…comfortable having men look at me. Oh, I feel prettier now in my new stylish clothes, thanks to you.”
“Georgie—”
“Louisa, I know you want to help, but in this I don’t think you can. But I’ll make it all work, don’t worry.”
The next morning, Manvil handed Simon a folded piece of paper that had been left under the door.
“I believe it is from Miss Shelby,” Manvil said. “She sprayed perfume on it.”
“She did not,” Simon shot back, but found himself smelling the paper.