by Wolf, Bree
Although Phineas’ hands were warm, Louisa felt her own fingers grow chilled. “What do you mean?” she asked, hearing the warning in her voice loud and clear. She could only hope Phineas heard it as well.
For a long moment, his dark gaze remained locked on hers, and she could see that he did understand her. “I apologize for not consulting you beforehand,” Phineas told her, no hint of teasing in his voice now. He shook his head and scoffed, “In retrospect, of course, I should have. Still, all I can say is that it did not occur to me at the time. I’m sorry.”
Louisa’s teeth gritted together as she stared at him. “Sorry for what?” He didn’t…! He couldn’t have…! Thoughts ran rampant through her head, jerking her this way and that, not allowing her to finish any one of them. Confusion settled in, mingling with disappointment and regret. “Sorry for what?” she pressed when Phineas looked utterly contrite.
Behind him, Lord Pemberton linked his hands behind his back, his chin rising slightly, the look in his dark gray eyes one of disapproval. Still, he did not speak, but remained as still as an ice sculpture.
“What you told me,” Phineas finally said, the look in his dark eyes telling her full well that he knew that his next words would infuriate her, “made me think of an old friend. I wondered, replaying old conversations and events in my mind, and in the end, I decided to simply speak to him. I did what I did because I want to help you. Perhaps I did not go about it the right way, but I urge you to believe me that I never meant you any harm.” The look in his eyes was almost pleading, and a part of Louisa wanted to forgive him more than anything. Still, old emotions welled up, rose to the surface and buried everything tender and forgiving under a layer of shame.
As much as Louisa had expected her old anger to return, it did not. Instead, it was something cold that crept through her body, robbing her of every bit of strength she had left. Her muscles grew weak, and her arms all but dropped to her sides, hanging limply. She felt Leonora’s hands fall from hers as a cold—one much colder than that of the icy wind around them—drifted into her bones. “You didn’t,” she mumbled, her voice no more but a faint whisper. Her feet stumbled backwards as she shook her head, staring at Phineas, dumbfounded. “You didn’t. I trusted you.” Shaking her head, Louisa continued to stare at him as her feet moved her backwards, increasing the distance between them. “I never should have. I was wrong to think that you—”
Suddenly becoming aware that they were not alone, that they indeed had an audience, Louisa clamped her lips shut. She glared at Phineas one last time, her eyes blurring with tears, and in that moment, she hated him for attacking her in such a way in front of others. Then she spun on her heel and rushed off, cursing her own weak heart for daring to believe that he could genuinely care for her.
Oh, how wrong she had been!
Chapter Thirty-Four
Fight or Flight
The shock and disappointment on her face felt like a dagger to his heart, and Phineas knew that he had acted most unwisely. In truth, the only reason he had not spoken to her beforehand was that he had not been certain.
After she had spoken to him about learning to read, about the difficulties she had faced, her words had echoed in his mind, tickling old memories, drawing him back to his days at Eton. It had been years since he had thought about those times, about the people he had met there, about those he had not seen since.
Still, after a while, his memories had become clearer and he had remembered an old friend, sitting at his desk, trying hard to make out words on the page. Phineas once again remembered his jaw set in determination, his eyes all but staring as though he simply needed to look hard enough to understand. He remembered frustration, but also an iron will to continue and not be deterred by the obstacles in his path.
He had finally remembered Drake Shaw, Marquess of Pemberton.
Long years had passed since they had last seen each other. Never had they been much alike. Where Phineas had always been one to seek the company of his friends, to spend time with others and share in their laughter and cheerfulness, Pemberton had always been one to keep to himself, rarely saying a word, his dark gray eyes always observant.
Cursing under his breath, Phineas called a quick apology over his shoulder to his friend as well as Lady Leonora. Then he immediately set off in pursuit of Louisa, knowing he could not let her think that he had betrayed her, that she could not trust him. Never would he have shared her secret with a person who would think ill of her. Indeed, Pemberton was one of only a few people Phineas knew to be beyond reproach.
Long strides carried him after her as she rushed back into the house. Phineas all but burst through the door only a few steps behind. “Louisa, wait!” he hissed under his breath, unwilling to draw too much attention.
Still, she kept going, barely glancing over her shoulder as she handed her coat to a footman. The look in her green eyes told him that she was not thinking clearly, that she did not choose her way with thought. She was merely putting one step in front of the other, trying to get away from him and the shame he had caused her.
Phineas’ heart burned with regret as he followed her down the corridor and around the next corner. He was about to call out to her once more when she suddenly turned right and stumbled through open doors into a large drawing room.
A fire roared in the grate, its flames dancing cheerfully as it cast a warm light about the room. Evergreen garlands were hung everywhere, decorated with red ribbons and golden stars, and in the corner near the pianoforte, Phineas once more glanced a sprig of mistletoe.
Unfortunately, the room was far from deserted.
As her eyes fell on the assembled guests, Louisa pulled to a sudden halt and Phineas barely managed to still his own feet in time.
Many eyes turned in their direction, and Louisa drew in a deep breath as she faced them without flinching. Still, her hands balled into fists before she hid them behind her back, her whole body tense.
Phineas wanted nothing more but to get her out of there and find a quiet corner to explain and apologize. However, before he could speak a single word, Lady Hartmore bustled in behind him.
She stood tall with sharp eyes and a pointed nose that was raised in a haughty way. She held what looked like a letter in her hands, and a bit of a disconcerting smile came to her face when her gaze fell on Louisa. “Oh, my dearest Louisa, there you are,” the lady exclaimed, a hint of deepest joy in her voice. Still, Phineas could not help but think that there was something dishonest about her. “I’ve received a letter from my eldest.”
Lady Hartmore swept over to Louisa, looped her arm through hers and pulled her farther into the room. Then her eyes swept over the assembled guests, their attention caught by the sudden developments, and said for all to hear, “She married an earl a few years back, captured his heart in a single season.” She beamed at everyone, clearly enjoying being the center of attention before she turned to Louisa. “I know, you used to be the dearest of friends and so I thought you would very much enjoy reading her letter.” Smiling at Louisa in that odd, calculated way, the lady held out the letter to her. “Would you mind reading to us all?”
Louisa’s face went frighteningly pale, and Phineas could feel his own heart come to a halt. He was torn about what to do as he watched Louisa slowly reach out her hand to take the proffered letter. Was he to interfere? Certainly, it would cause a scene. What did Louisa want him to do? Still, she would not look at him, and the thought that she no longer saw him as an ally, a confidant, a friend to whom she could turn pained him greatly.
“Of course,” Louisa replied in a croak, her hands trembling as she unfolded the parchment. “It is my pleasure, Lady Hartmore.” A distant, almost unseeing look lingered in Louisa’s eyes, and Phineas wondered if she might think herself lost in a dream…or rather a nightmare.
As far as she had told him, Louisa had always been one to think quickly, to conjure explanations and excuses with the naturalness that had never raised any suspicions. Why did she not use
such an excuse now? Why was she unfolding the letter? Did she honestly intend to read it?
Phineas felt as though he were about to explode. He felt like a caged tiger, the need to pace once more shooting down his legs. At the same time, he wished to plant his fist in Lady Hartmore’s face, the notion surprising him for he had never experienced the desire to harm a woman. Still, the devious look in the lady’s eyes made him wonder if she might have uttered this request for a specific reason. Could it be that she knew Louisa could not read?
Had Miss Mortensen shared Louisa’s secret with her mother?
Louisa swallowed hard as her eyes fell onto the parchment. Then she began to read. “D-Dearest M-Mother.” Her voice was unsteady, and Phineas was certain that not only he could hear how she carefully sounded out the words.
Frowns appeared on many faces as people turned to one another, exchanging confused glances. Still, no one said a word.
Not one.
And Louisa kept reading. Word for word. Slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. “I am w-well as is my h-hus-b-band. We w-would both like to see you and F-Father a-g-gain soon and were won-d-dering if…”
Phineas felt an almost desperate desire to rush to her side and snatch the parchment from her hands. Still, the moment his gaze moved away from the guests surrounding her to Louisa herself, all his anger vanished.
As though he had never seen her before, Phineas stared at her. He stared at the determined set of her jaw, at the strength glowing in her eyes, at the iron will that made her read on and on, ignoring the hushed whispers that now rose from the assembled guests.
And Phineas felt proud. Utterly and overwhelmingly proud.
A moment ago, she had seemed so vulnerable and near collapse, shaken by the mere thought that another knew her secret. And now, here, she stood, holding her head high as she faced her greatest fear, refusing to be intimidated any longer.
And so, Phineas simply stood there and watched and listened, a proud smile upon his face as Louisa read.
When she had all but reached the end, voices began echoing from down the corridor, and Phineas knew that her youngest sisters were heading their way. Their voices suddenly stilled, though, when they stepped over the threshold, their eyes drawn to Louisa, standing amidst a small crowd, reading.
Christina’s eyes grew round, and she grasped Harriet’s arm. Her younger sister, too, looked around the room, shocked. She recovered quickly, though, casting a warm and reassuring smile at her sister as well as her friend, who had entered with them.
Indeed, it was Miss Mortensen, and she grew utterly pale. She stared at the spectacle until Louisa finally lowered the letter. Then she suddenly rushed forward and grasped Lady Hartmore’s arm, pulling her aside. “Mother, what is this?” she demanded in a hushed voice. “Did you do this?”
Phineas stared as the mother hissed a few words, then shook off her daughter, a displeased frown upon her face, and stepped forward to retrieve her letter. “Thank you, Lady Louisa. That was most…informative.”
Louisa smiled at her, no hint of embarrassment upon her face. “It was my pleasure.” Then she nodded to the assembled guests, turned around and left the room, not even glancing in Phineas’ direction.
Phineas, however, had another matter on his mind in that moment. Instead of hurrying after Louisa once more, he walked down the corridor after Miss Mortensen, who had slunk out of the room the moment her mother had turned away from her.
With his gaze fixed upon the young woman, Phineas moved onward, keeping his distance until they reached a more deserted part of the house. Then he quickened his steps until he reached her, grasped her arm and pulled her aside. “Did you do this?” he demanded as he pushed her through a door into what looked like the conservatory.
Most walls were made of glass, allowing a magnificent view of the surrounding grounds, glistening as snowflakes slowly descended upon them. Bits of green still peeked out from under the soft layer of snow, whispering of what lay hidden underneath the white blanket.
As she turned around, Phineas could see the tears glistened in the young woman’s eyes. “I had no idea she would do this,” Miss Mortensen sobbed. “When she arrived at Whickerton Grove, she was most curious about my time there. I did not mean to tell her, but she has a way…a way of finding out everything. She promised me she would keep it to herself.” She wrung her hands, her eyes pleading. “Please, believe me. The Whickerton sisters are like a second family to me. I would never betray them.”
Phineas felt his anger subside at the sight of her honest turmoil. “What about that note?” he asked, remembering the night they had been almost found in a compromising situation. “Did you send it? Because we both know Louisa did not.”
“No, I didn’t. Of course, I didn’t.” She shook her head frantically, her mouth opening and closing, words tumbling from her lips, assuring him that she knew nothing.
“But then who—?” Phineas broke off when the young woman’s face suddenly turned dangerously pale. “What?”
All but staring through him, Miss Mortensen whispered, “It was Mother.” She blinked, and her blue eyes settled on him. “She and Father were the ones to come upon me that night, and the way she looked at me, the way she looked around the room, I…” She shook her head in disbelief. “It was Mother.”
As though on cue, footsteps once more echoed closer, and Phineas felt reminded of that night months ago. His blood ran cold as he gazed around for another way out. However, before he could move, the door behind them was flung open and a group of guests filed in, led by none other but Lady Hartmore, a triumphant smile flashing over her haughty face before she quickly feigned confusion. “What is this? Sarah? Lord Barrington?” She looked from her daughter to him, clearly expecting him to do the honorable thing.
Phineas inhaled a deep breath, fighting the urge to yet again hit the lady square in the face. If she thought she had cornered him, she was very mistaken!
Chapter Thirty-Five
A Bit of a Bind
Louisa knew not how she felt, nor did she know where she was going. Her eyes blinked, and she looked around, finding herself in the entrance hall, in that moment unable to recall how exactly she had found her way here.
Inhaling a deep breath, Louisa tried to calm down. Her blood pulsed wildly in her veins as the aftermath of what had just happened sank in. Indeed, after being so fearful for years and years on end, she had just now revealed her most shameful secret to the whole world.
And she had done so with pride in her heart, had she not?
A smile teased the corners of Louisa’s mouth upward, and she felt a bit of the trembling that still lingered in her muscles subside. Yes, now, they all knew that she could not read…well.
And, no, the world had not ended.
Certainly, there would be those who would now whisper behind her back and snigger whenever she walked past. But why should Louisa care? In fact, she did not. Even in the very moment when she had read from Lady Hartmore’s letter, she had not cared. The revelation had been shocking, yes, but ultimately Louisa knew she had never placed much stock in what other people thought. In truth, what had always held her back had been what she herself had thought.
And somehow, that had changed.
Unbidden, Phineas’ face appeared before her eyes, that teasing gleam in his dark gaze and an equally teasing smile upon his lips. She could already hear him comment in his usual way about what she had done, about what others would now say. She could see him laugh and smirk and tease her, and it made her smile.
It made her miss him.
Still, the thought of him brought back a most unpleasant feeling. Why had he betrayed her secret? Why had he told his friend without asking her permission first?
“Pardon me?”
Startled out of her reverie, Louisa turned to find herself looking at a young woman about her own age. Brown curls danced down her temples, and her wide eyes shone in a startling blue. “I’m sorry to bother you, Lady Louisa,” the young woman said, her voic
e no more than a whisper as she glanced over her shoulder as though looking to see if anyone was nearby. “I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”
Confused, Louisa nodded. “Certainly…”
A tinge of red came to the young woman’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m Lady Agnes, Lord Whitmore’s daughter.”
Louisa smiled at her, wondering what this could possibly be about. Indeed, the look upon Lady Agnes’s face did not speak of malice. It seemed unlikely that she had sought Louisa out to laugh in her face or poke fun at her in some way. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What can I do for you?”
Lady Agnes pressed her lips together, her hands trembling as her fingers played with the hem of her sleeve. “I…I heard you read Lady Hartmore’s letter,” she said carefully, her wide eyes watchful as though she was expecting Louisa to burst into flames.
“And?” Louisa prompted when the young woman remained quiet.
Lady Agnes swallowed hard, looking all but ready to faint. Fortunately, she did not. She opened her mouth and said, “I…I was wondering if you could help me. You see…” Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she once more spoke with an audible voice. “I, too, find…reading to be a challenge I…cannot quite seem…to master.” Her eyes dropped from Louisa’s face for a long moment before she once more dared to raise her gaze.
Thunderstruck, Louisa stared at Lady Agnes. Whatever she had expected, it had not been this. Of course, there was no reason to assume that she was the only one who had had trouble with the written word. Still, Louisa had always strangely assumed that no one else faced the same problem.
“I’m sorry,” Lady Agnes stammered, slowly backing away. “I did not mean to bother you.”