There was so much she would need to undo in order to help him find himself, but if anyone could do it, it was Louisa.
She squeezed his wrist, and slowly a smile came to his face. It wasn’t one of those coveted laughs, but she would take it.
Until he said, “Perhaps when I’ve more time.”
He kissed her again and left her sitting there on the bed, still naked and still sore from his lovemaking.
* * *
Give me a chance.
The words haunted him as he stood in the foyer of Ashbourne House a half hour later.
Like most things about Louisa, she refused to stay carefully removed from his person as he preferred most people do. Instead, she rammed right into his heart like a runaway carriage.
He’d made love to her.
The notion still perplexed him, and if he hadn’t been there himself, he would have denied it. But he had done it. He’d made love to her. Louisa, his wife. God, what had he been thinking?
But this morning, the old Louisa had awoken in his bed. The one with the playful banter and the quick wit, the one whose smile melted the ice around his heart.
Give me a chance.
God, he wanted to. That was the worst part of it. But still, something unanswered lingered in his mind, something that held him back. He wished he could say it was his own insecurities, but it wasn’t.
It was about Louisa.
Louisa had a secret he still did not understand, and for some reason, it gave him pause. Did it matter? Should it matter? So when she’d asked him to give her a chance, he’d wanted to say yes immediately, but he couldn’t. His own caution made him pause.
He stood in the vestibule of Ashbourne House, the chirp of birds from just outside the windows that flanked the massive doors disrupting his thoughts as he tried to focus on the matter at hand. There would be a vote on the agricultural bill soon, and he and Dax were no closer to formulating a plan to secure the needed votes.
The butler had only just moments before slipped off to announce his arrival and footsteps on the stairs had him turning.
“Sebastian.” Eliza stepped carefully down to the floor, a smile splitting her face. “Dax didn’t say you were coming today.”
Seeing Eliza stirred something within him, and that needling finger of curiosity began poking him squarely in the chest.
He swallowed. “Eliza.” He gave a polite bow. “Dax and I only decided we should have a meeting after yesterday’s session.”
Eliza’s brow furrowed. “It’s the agricultural bill, isn’t it?”
Sebastian was not privileged to know how most societal marriages went, but he had witnessed his own parents’ marriage, and that one was not so inclined to such intimacies as one knowing the other’s professional concerns. And yet it didn’t surprise him that Eliza knew. Was he then supposed to tell Louisa of his affairs? He was surprised to find he wouldn’t mind divulging such facts.
“I’m afraid it is.”
Eliza folded her hands in front of her. “He’s not been sleeping, Sebastian, and I blame this bill.”
Sebastian couldn’t help a smile. “Your husband is determined to make this work. Improving the roads in this country will greatly reduce the cost of shipping goods to market without relying on the proximity of canals. The added benefit of—”
He stopped as Eliza’s smile melted into one of doting warmth.
He coughed, suddenly embarrassed, as Eliza said, “You’ve been working very hard on this as well, haven’t you?”
“It’s what is best for commerce.”
“It’s what is best for the farmers.” Eliza shook her head. “You’re so determined to remain aloof, Sebastian. Wouldn’t it be easier to just admit you care?”
“No.” The word slipped free before he had meant it to, and Eliza gave a gentle laugh.
“Come. I’m sure Carver will find His Grace momentarily. Join me in the drawing room while we wait.”
He allowed Eliza to usher him into the room immediately off the vestibule. He blinked upon entering as the drapes in the room were thrown wide, and as the house faced south, it was flooded with sunshine at this hour. Positioned just in front of the windows was a macramé of odd tables that had obviously been pulled from other parts of the house. Strewn across the tables were Eliza’s watercolors.
Sebastian had come to know of Eliza’s watercolors in the past year after frequenting Ashbourne Manor where Eliza had an entire room dedicated to their production. What had started as a way for her to create picture books to help children develop skills in reading and color recognition had turned into something more. He had heard whispers from society matrons wishing to have their own copies of Eliza’s work and Dax urging her to require payment for them.
Again, he was struck by the difference between Eliza and Dax’s marriage and that of his parents. Somewhere in the mix slipped the image of Louisa, and he swallowed, unable to swim in the turmoil that was his emotions at present.
“You seem to be quite busy.” He peered down at a particularly intricate rendition of a turtle coming through the reeds of a lakeshore.
“Lady Danforth requested a complete set of books for the school in her village.”
Sebastian turned a questioning eye to Eliza. “And have you agreed with Dax’s idea to require a suitable fee for your work?”
She tried to purse her lips, but it was ruined by her smile. “I may have seen the wisdom of his suggestion.”
“Lady Eliza Kane, embracing the wiles of capitalism.”
She laughed as she scooped up a palette of watercolors from a single chair pushed to the side so she could sit.
She studied the watercolors as she responded. “It’s hardly an adventure into capitalism. I’m only asking that those who wish for a set of the books pay for the cost of producing them.”
“And you are not seeking compensation for your time?”
Eliza’s look was sharp. “Hardly. I think it’s more important that children receive the tools they need to learn to lead a happy and productive life.”
At the mention of happiness, Sebastian’s mood soured. The image of Louisa wrapped in blankets in his bed surged through his mind, and he wished he didn’t want to know.
Except he did.
“Eliza, I wonder if I might impose a question upon you.”
Her smile was swift as she looked up. “As your sister-in-law, a question is no matter.”
He realized he didn’t know what question to ask. How did he sum up the burning curiosity within him?
Give me a chance.
He kept his gaze focused on the watercolors as if to give the impression that he cared very little for the answer.
“I’m rather curious about your childhood. Were there events that occurred which would have reason to cause painful memories?”
Eliza sampled a spot of color on a piece of paper next to her that seemed to be just for that purpose as its surface was a veritable rainbow.
“Painful memories?” Her voice was careful. “Why ever would you ask such a question?”
At the prodding, Sebastian found his sense of loyalty to Louisa roaring up as it had that day Dax had questioned him at the club.
Except was the need for loyalty the same when it came to Louisa’s own beloved sister?
Sebastian gave up the pretense of disinterest and took a seat opposite Eliza, leaning forward on his elbows.
“As you know, I endeavor to be respectful no matter what the gossips of the ton have to say about me. A matter has come to light about which I do not know how I should tread. Your sister and I were accosted by a matronly pair of women at our wedding breakfast, and one of the women suggested they had not seen Louisa in some time. Louisa’s reaction to this pronouncement was startling. She became suddenly withdrawn. I should wish to know if there is a topic I should skirt when in her presence.”
Eliza’s face had remained unchanged until he’d nearly finished, but as soon as he told her the whole of it, her expression closed.
Sebastian’s heart slowed, and his left hand began to tap a staccato against his knee. He willed himself to relax, but a seriousness had entered Eliza’s voice he did not often hear.
“I assume you speak of Martha and Maude? They are sisters who resemble each other a great deal.”
Sebastian gave a quick nod, gesturing for Eliza to continue.
“They are cousins of our mother, somewhat distant on our grandmother’s side, but they tend to turn up at things like this. The last time they saw Louisa was at our mother’s funeral.”
Sebastian’s chest tightened at the word funeral. He knew only too well how the loss of a parent could ripple its damaging way through the rest of one’s life.
“How old was Louisa?”
“She was only four at the time, nearly five. We had hopes that she was too young to remember much of what happened. You say she acted strangely when the sisters mentioned our mother’s funeral?”
Sebastian’s nanny had often described being chilled as if having someone walk over her grave. It was a phrase that held just enough possibility and fright to be enticing to a young child, and it was a suggestion that had stuck with him. It was how he would have described Louisa’s reaction that morning.
“She did. It was as if she were being confronted with painful memories.”
Eliza nodded. “Perhaps she remembers more than she lets on. Viv and I had always wondered. Louisa is rather a cheery soul, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps too cheery?”
He could picture her warm smile and wide eyes as if Louisa stood in front of him. It was such a startling contrast to how he felt about himself that he couldn’t ever stop the image from forming. He marveled at such happiness at the same time he feared it.
“Louisa tends to see the best in all things.”
Eliza gave a soft, knowing smile, and he wondered what he’d said to cause such an expression.
“Well, it’s not for me to tell you family secrets, Sebastian, but I think it’s best that you know something. You must swear not to use this against Louisa. I know you wouldn’t, but as her sister, I’m fiercely protective and must ask anyway.”
He felt a pulse of…something, knowing Louisa had someone to protect her, someone strong like Eliza, but even as he thought it he realized he was there to protect her now. The thought sent both fear and pleasure racing through him.
He swallowed. “I would never do anything to hurt Louisa.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” Eliza shook her head and studied her folded hands for a moment. “Sebastian, our mother died of influenza. There was an outbreak in our village, and even though my mother ordered everyone to stay at the house, the disease still came. It took several of the servants. I’m not even sure how many as Father was always protective and shielded us from such things. My sister Viv got sick, but she was a strong child.” She laughed softly, a faraway look entering her eye. “She still is strong.” She shook her head as if to return to the present matter. “Louisa, well…” Eliza peered past him as if searching for the words. “Father had us all sequestered in the nursery, hoping to keep us from the sickness in the house. He didn’t want us to see our mother die, you see. It was a hard choice for him to make, and while I wish I could have said goodbye to her, I don’t think I would have been brave enough. She was very sick, and Father was so shaken. He just wanted us to remember how our mother had been, not how she died. Do you understand?”
Sebastian had spent a great deal of time with his father, unlike some sons in society. His father had enjoyed stalking in the hills that surrounded their country seat, and Sebastian had begun shadowing him as soon as he was old enough. That was the father he chose to remember. Not the one who had killed himself over his lover.
“Yes, I can,” he said now, and Eliza nodded as if letting him know she believed him.
“Not Louisa. Louisa snuck into our mother’s room. Sebastian, she stayed with our mother while she died. She was the only one who did.”
A coldness swept over him, rattling him in a way he thought nothing could ever do again. He’d felt this emptiness before, but now it was greater, heart-stopping and fatal.
He stared at Eliza. “She was there when your mother died.”
Eliza’s features had tightened with memory, and she studied him in earnest now. “She was. She’d crawled into bed with her. They found her in our mother’s arms. Because of Louisa, our mother didn’t die alone.”
He was suddenly bombarded with a million questions he wished to ask but because they all came at once, he couldn’t get a single one out.
He was prevented from saying anything more when Dax stumbled in behind him.
“This bill is going to be the death of me. Have you seen the latest? That Bradburg chap has really been making the rounds.”
Sebastian stood automatically at his friend’s entrance and was grateful some sort of correspondence he carried with him had distracted him from seeing the tableau Sebastian and Eliza must have made. Sebastian didn’t have any more room for questions just then. He was flooded with too many answers.
He was nearly to the door, following his rambling friend who had already disappeared into the corridor, when he turned back to Eliza.
“You think Louisa is too cheery?”
Eliza had picked up her watercolors again as if nothing had happened when Sebastian’s entire world had just changed.
She seemed to consider her words before replying. “It’s almost as if she’s trying to make up for something.”
Chapter 12
She was sitting on the floor when he found her that evening.
She wasn’t sure what the room had been used for by previous duchesses, but she had a mind to take it over for herself. It was a small room compared to the others, and it faced south, catching most of the light throughout the day. There was a small fireplace opposite her and a generous window seat in an alcove to her left. It looked over the street, but in the distance she could see the tops of the trees in the park, and it had a lovely, calming effect.
She wasn’t sure if she’d ever sat in a window seat. There really hadn’t been time, what with tending to Jo and then seeing to Viv’s wishes when they were older. Now, sitting in the silence of the house in the early evening, it was the first time it occurred to her that perhaps she would have time to herself now, and she hadn’t an inkling as to what to do with it.
She would need to attend to her duchess duties, of course, and it wasn’t as if she’d divorced herself from her sisters by marrying. She would always be there should they need her. But there had been something about her wedding to Sebastian that had marked a space in time. She still had her sisters and Sebastian to tend to, and God willing, there would be children someday. But suddenly she found herself with time on her hands and not a single idea of what she might do for herself.
She’d never paid attention to herself really, and now the feeling was foreign and somewhat terrifying. How was she to fill the long hours between her social duties? Sebastian had his work and often left early to attend Parliament sessions or meet with his solicitors. What was she to do in this big empty house once she was finished reviving it?
She pressed her hands to her stomach, wondering if a babe already grew inside it. Surely one night of lovemaking was not enough to produce a babe so soon, but it had been passionate lovemaking. Did that make a difference?
She wasn’t sure what she would do, but she knew she’d do it in this room with its tall windows and beautiful, intricate swirls of plasterwork on the ceiling, the small fireplace that begged for one to sit in front of, and the window seat, her very own window seat.
“Are you all right?”
Sebastian’s voice startled her from her reverie, and she looked up from her place on the floor.
His face gave her cause for concern as he studied her with furrowed brow.
“You’re sitting on the floor in an entirely empty room. Forgive me if I question it.”
The room was entirely empty. She had sent what little furniture that had been in it out to be repaired and reupholstered. The drapes had come down that morning for mending and cleaning, and even the cushions on the loveseat had been removed for a thorough beating. The room was just a shell waiting for her to fill it.
“It’s quite all right. I assure you.” She patted the floor next to her. “Would you care to join me? I was just imagining what this room might have been.”
He seemed to consider her words as if her soundness were still in question, but finally he moved into the room and settled on the floor beside her. Without removing his jacket. In fact, he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt once seated as if to ensure he were properly attired.
She, on the other hand, was mottled with dust and grime, having spent the day helping the workers clear the room and seeing to the mending of the drapes, which were thoroughly covered with dust.
She blew an errant strand of hair out of her face.
“So, Your Grace, by chance, do you know what this room was last used for?”
The sun had begun to set at some point, and she wondered just how late into the evening it was. She’d gotten quite lost in her work and was likely only still moving thanks to the attentions of Williams who had brought her tea and sandwiches along the day to keep her efforts up.
“I don’t believe this room has ever been used.”
His shoulder touched hers where they lounged back against the wall. Together they peered up at the empty space, their gazes traveling from one corner to the other. At this hour, the room was awash in an orange light that lulled one toward sleep with the pleasant feeling of a successful day. She wanted to be in this room to see all of its phases of light for surely they must be magnificent.
“Never been used? That can’t be. This room is simply marvelous in the light.”
The Duke and the Lady Page 15