by Wolf, Bree
For that was the truth of it, was it not? He cared for her. Her pain was now his, and he found that he could not bear it.
“You wouldn’t!” she hissed, and he felt her straightening. Her shoulders drew back, and the muscles in her arms tensed. “You wouldn’t!”
Phineas cast her a mischievous grin, knowing from countless experiences how much it infuriated her. “Try me,” he dared her, leaning closer, watching her watch him, seeing her trying to gauge if he truly meant what he said.
A muscle in her jaw twitched, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. Anger stood in her eyes, scorching hot. Her chest rose and fell with a long, deep breath and then her chin flew up and she jerked backwards, freeing herself from his grasp. “I knew you could not be trusted,” she hissed, accusation vibrating in her voice. “I always knew. You do not know the meaning of honor and trust. You’re a blackguard! A scoundrel! A miscreant! And I loathe the day our paths crossed!”
Phineas swallowed hard at her accusing words, realizing with no small amount of shock how deeply they wounded him. He had thought himself immune to a few simple words, knowing that they were simply spoken in anger. But he was not. Still, he needed to stay focused and say what needed to be said. “Is that so?” he dared her, giving her another wicked grin, another teasing gleam coming to his eyes. “I was not the one to drag my sister to a masquerade and then leave her there alone!” Staring down at her, he moved closer. “I was not the one to think only of myself!” Another step, and he felt her skirts brush against his legs. “I am not the one hiding in my chambers while my sister suffers alone!”
Her jaw trembled, and tears glistened in her eyes. Still, her chin remained raised and no matter how much he crowded her, she did not retreat. “You’re right,” she spat to his utter surprise, loathing and disgust thickening her voice; surprisingly, they were not directed at him, though. “I did all those things. I failed my sister. I am failing her now.” Tears streamed down her face, and yet, she held his gaze, admitting to her faults with her head held high. “There? Are you happy now? It was my fault. I made the mistake, not her, and yet, she is the one paying for it. I don’t even know what happened to her because she refuses to talk to me. Of course, she does. It is my fault after all.” The tone in her voice grew shrill, a hint of panic and despair sneaking into her eyes. “I wanted one night,” she exclaimed with a shake of her head, her eyes strangely distant as though she could not believe how one small decision had led to something so horrible. “One night of freedom. One night of not thinking about this. One night of not feeling small and insignificant and inferior to everyone around me.” Her gaze snapped back to him, her jaw clenched. “I wanted one night without thinking of you. One night without remembering the words you said.” She shook her head, fresh tears spilling over. “I never meant for this to happen. I did not even want her to come with me. But she insisted, and I…” She closed her eyes, once again looking defeated. “I let her come. I should’ve argued harder. I should’ve stayed home. I should not have risked her.” She blinked, and her eyes rose to meet his. “All this pain,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears, “and only because I’m too dumb to read.”
Phineas stilled, staring at her, as the words slowly sank in. He blinked at her as they circled around in his mind, free of logic and sense and reason. “Pardon?”
Seeing his reaction, Louisa froze, her eyes going wide and her jaw dropping. “B-But y-you know,” she stammered, shaking her head in disbelief. “Y-You know.”
Still doubting his ears, Phineas slowly shook his head. “How could I know? How could I—?” Breaking off, he tried to sort through the mess in his head, rubbing his hands over his face. Still, when he dropped them once more, Louisa still looked as shocked and terrified as a moment earlier. “You cannot read?” It was a simple question, and yet, it seemed utterly wrong. How was this possible? She was such a strong and intelligent woman. Always had her quick wit impressed him. For heaven’s sake, he teased her the way he did because he enjoyed the sharp twists and turns of her mind, the way she responded, quick and unimpressed. How was this possible?
As he stepped toward her, Louisa flinched and all but fled from the windows. In a few quick steps, she had reached the door, her hand settling on the handle, when she suddenly paused. With her eyes wide and her mouth open, she looked over her shoulder back at him, her body trembling. Then she turned, her back suddenly pressed against the door, and stared at him. “Leave.”
It was a desperate plea, and Phineas understood in that moment that she could not bear his presence. For some reason, she had believed that he knew and realizing now that he did not had shocked her, had pulled out the ground from under her. Her instinct was to flee from him, to seek safety elsewhere, sanctuary, a place where she felt calm and reassured. However, that place was here.
This was her bedchamber, and he was the intruder.
“I’ll leave,” Phineas told her, certain that if he were to push her even a little farther, she might break. As he walked closer, she moved from the door, seemingly desperate to maintain a certain distance between them. “I shall leave…for now. The last word on this issue has not yet been spoken.” He held her gaze for a long moment, needing her to hear him. Then he stepped to the door and opened it. “Please know that if you need anything—”
“Leave,” she interrupted, still backing away, her delicate frame trembling, shaking like a leaf tossed about by a strong wind.
Phineas nodded, then stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, listening to his own heartbeat, strangely faint, and yet, utterly unrestrained, wild even. He felt torn, a part of him urging him back inside, remembering the desperation in her eyes, the exhaustion and the pain. She needed him. She needed…someone. Yet, he had promised not to say a word, had he not? Of course, he had not meant what he had said. Never would he betray her confidence. Still, was he simply to leave?
A faint rustling of skirts drifted to his ears, and Phineas snapped to attention. His eyes flew sideways, and he caught a faint flutter of pale-yellow skirts vanish around the corner. Instantly, his heart tensed. Had someone been there? Could someone have overheard what they had spoken about? Did anyone in her family know?
Following down the corridor, Phineas headed back downstairs. Slowly, he approached the wide French doors leading out onto the terrace. Excited voices drifted inside on a warm summer’s breeze, a stark contrast to the chill that still lingered in his bones.
Phineas was far from able to pretend in this moment. The thought of forcing a smile onto his face and a joyful tone into his voice was too much to bear. And so, he stood back, hiding behind the curtains, no more than peeking around the corner at the happy family seated outside. Anne and Tobias were still there, laughing as Lady Christina and Lady Harriet were still chasing after the rabbit. His gaze swept over their faces, and he wondered if any of them now knew the truth.
Yellow skirts?
Indeed, none of the sisters nor Anne wore yellow. It had been none of them. Then who? Who had been outside Louisa’s door? And what had she heard? The thought sent a cold chill through Phineas, for he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Louisa had never shared her secret with anyone. Why then had she thought he knew? It did not make any sense. None at all.
“I shall speak to her again,” he whispered quietly to himself before turning around and walking away, “but not today.”
Louisa needed time, and honestly so did he. Perhaps in a few days, he would seek her out again and then perhaps she would have calmed down, and they would be able to talk.
As he left the Whickertons’ townhouse without even a word of farewell, a small voice whispered in his head, reminding him that he and Louisa had never been able to talk. Never had she spoken to him. Always had she kept herself at a distance, offering him no more than harsh words, insults and accusations.
Of course, he had baited her, teased her, riled her. A small smile tickled his lips at the me
mory of their many heated arguments. Always had Phineas enjoyed them, realizing in this moment how much he missed her.
The woman she had been.
The woman she was deep down.
Now, that woman lay buried under guilt and shame and despair. Would she ever rise again? Phineas could only hope so, for he would miss her dearly if she did not. Still, knowing Louisa as he did—no matter what she had said—Phineas was certain that her fate was now tied to her sister’s. Only if Leonora found a way to overcome what had happened the night of the masquerade would Louisa recover. Was there a way for him to help them?
Phineas heaved a deep sigh. What could he possibly do? He of all people? Indeed, Louisa would never let him. She had almost thrown him out of the house. “Then I shall claw my way back in,” Phineas muttered, casting one last glance over his shoulder at the tall, imposing townhouse before his feet carried him around the corner.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dare to Trust
Louisa could barely keep herself on her feet. Her limbs, every inch of her, was trembling so badly, she felt certain she would trip if she were to take another step. Her heart hammered in her chest almost painfully as though it wished to break through her rib cage and escape, find a place to hide somewhere warm and safe and soothing. Thoughts whirled in her head, and when Louisa closed her eyes, waves of dizziness washed over her.
Her hands moved without thought. They clenched and unclenched. Her fingers tugged on her hair, brushing a curl behind her ear, which instantly swung forward again, refusing to stay where she had directed it. Her hands flew over her face, covering her eyes, before they lowered and brushed over her skirts. Still, every movement seemed without purpose. There was no reason for it. It was simply a distraction, something to focus on because if she did not, her thoughts unerringly returned to the shocked look upon Phineas’ face. “He did not know,” she whispered to the empty room, shock of her own freezing her limbs, a cold that was painful and devastating. “He did not know.”
How was this possible? Louisa had been so certain he had known after what he had said about her. Had he truly simply guessed? Had he simply wanted to be hurtful and said whatever had popped into his mind in that moment? Why had he said what he had in the first place? Why had he spoken of her with such disregard and then continued to seek her out?
Sinking into the armchair by the window, Louisa hung her head, her mind and heart hopelessly overwhelmed. Nothing made sense. What was she to do now?
For a long time, Louisa simply sat there, her eyes staring out at the blue sky, watching feathery, white clouds drift lazily westward with the soft summer’s breeze. Then joyful laughter drew her attention, and she shifted her gaze down to the terrace. Still, seated in her chair, she could not see the people she knew were down there. A moment later, though, Chris and Harry charged into her field of vision as they hurried down into the gardens, chasing after a fluffy, white ball of fur. Back and forth, up and down, they went, laughter bubbling from their lips. Then someone else joined them, her golden hair shining in the bright afternoon sun, a perfect match to her lovely yellow skirts. It was Sarah, unable to stay away, her gaze moving over to the house beyond the hedge, the house she had once called home.
It seemed that misery was everywhere. Where had all the joy gone? Never had Louisa felt so crushed and hopeless. Always, despite everything, had she looked at life with a happy heart. Now, however, everything was different.
A soft knock sounded at her door, jarring her from her thoughts. “It’s me, dearest,” called Grandma Edie’s voice through the closed door. “May I come in?”
Brushing the last remnants of tears from her eyes, Louisa cleared her throat, praying that her grandmother would not see with one glance what lived in her heart. “Of course,” she called, once more running her hands over her skirts, trying to smooth them.
Leaning heavily upon her walking stick, Grandma Edie hobbled into the room, giving the door a swift push to see it fall closed behind her. Her pale eyes were watchful as always as she slowly moved closer, then sank into the armchair opposite Louisa’s. “You look like hell, Sweetheart,” her grandmother chuckled, a soothing warmth in her eyes. “Will you tell me what happened?”
Louisa stilled, detecting an odd note in her grandmother’s voice. Indeed, she seemed most curious, barely able to hide her interest in Louisa’s answer. “You knew he would come to see me,” she said rather accusingly. “You knew he had been here all this time, didn’t you?”
Her grandmother chortled, “Of course, I did. After all, I’m the one who sent him to you.”
Louisa felt her jaw drop. “Why would you do that? Have you no sense for propriety? What would have happened if—”
“Oh, balderdash!” Grandma Edie exclaimed, rolling her eyes most dramatically. “There are more important things in life than propriety. Far more important things.” Setting her walking stick aside, she folded her hands. “He is one to ruffle your feathers, is he not?”
Louisa dropped her gaze, not wishing her grandmother to know just how much Phineas ruffled her feathers. “He is a most infuriating man,” she finally said before lifting her gaze once more. “But you do know that, do you not? You know how much he upsets me. As my grandmother, should you not seek to keep such people away from me?”
Grandma Edie laughed, “Oh, Sweetheart, you do not need me for that. You are strong and brave and perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Still, even the strongest among us need someone to lean on occasionally.”
Louisa gaped at her grandmother. “And you thought that someone could be him? What a ridiculous notion!”
“Why?” her grandmother inquired, her pale eyes flaring with challenge. “I admit, he has a quite unusual way about him.” Again, she chuckled, and Louisa could not help but think that her grandmother liked Phineas’ rather ungentlemanly side very much. “Still, beyond all else, he is a most loyal and devoted man, would you not agree?” Her brows rose, daring Louisa to contradict her.
Almost squirming in her seat, Louisa felt the sudden urge to drop her gaze. “Do you truly think so?” she asked, aware that she was stalling for time.
Seeing through her ruse, Grandma Edie grinned at her. “I certainly do,” she assured her. “Why else would I have sent him after you the night of the masquerade?”
The question felt like an arrow shot through Louisa’s heart, and from one second to the next, her body was once more flooded by emotions she feared she could no longer bear. Tears shot to her eyes, and her hands began to tremble.
Watching her, her grandmother inhaled a deep breath, her eyes clouding, a shadow falling over her face. “Something happened,” she said, and it was not a question.
Gritting her teeth, Louisa nodded. “Why didn’t you stop us? Why didn’t you stop me?” Her hands clenched together, her fingernails digging into her flesh.
Leaning forward, her grandmother reached out a weathered hand and gently placed it upon Louisa’s clenched ones. “I know you’re hurting,” she said gently, an echo of Louisa’s pain visible in her pale eyes. “Still, you need to make your own decisions, the good and the bad. It is a life lesson, sometimes harshly taught, but always invaluable.”
Louisa closed her eyes, and fresh tears squeezed out, running down her cheeks and dripping down onto her hands. As much as she wanted to scream and argue, Louisa knew that her grandmother was right. Indeed, the night of the masquerade had been a valuable life lesson. Unfortunately, it had been Leonora who had paid the price.
How Grandma Edie knew everything she did, Louisa did not know. Still, strangely, it had always been thus. “You’re angry with him,” her grandmother whispered, her thin fingers closing more tightly around Louisa’s hands. “Why?”
Slowly, Louisa’s eyes opened, and she lifted them to look upon her grandmother, surprised that for once it seemed she did not know. “I was a fool,” Louisa whispered, cursing herself for blurting out her secret. After all, Phineas had not known, and now she of all people had been the one
to tell him. “I said something, told him something, something no one knows, something I never wanted anyone to know.”
Grandma Edie nodded, but did not ask what it was. “What are you afraid of, Child?”
Louisa’s mouth opened and closed. Once. Twice. The words were there, but she was afraid to utter them. They were terrifying, soul-crushing and deeply unsettling because for the past two years Louisa had hated Phineas Hawke with a burning passion. She had told herself day after day that he was a loathsome creature, not worth her time, that she would be better off not knowing him. She still told herself all these things, but somehow something had changed.
She no longer believed them.
“What if…?” Louisa stammered, uncertain how to put into words what worried her so. Deep down, she knew, and yet, it took enormous courage to admit it to herself. “What if…what I told him will make him…walk away,” she blinked, feeling a lone tear collect in the corner of her right eye, “and never come back?”
Indeed, the thought of Phineas not seeking her out anymore brought an odd tightening to her chest. Where once she would have rejoiced, Louisa now knew that somehow, he had found a way to make her care for him. It was a shocking revelation, and if she had been standing, she would have no doubt rocked back on her feet.
Watching her granddaughter intensely, Grandma Edie then shook her head, an amused glimmer in her eyes, and began to laugh. “Oh, my sweet child, you could dump a bucket of mud over his head at the next ball, and he would still remain firmly by your side.” Once again, she patted Louisa’s hand. “Do you not know that?”