Villiers clapped a sympathetic hand on Jacob’s shoulder in passing, and offered Louisa a bow. “My lady,” he said. “A delight.”
“Leave,” she said with icy finality.
Finally, they were all gone. Jacob wiped the last few drops of wine from his chin. His head spun and he knew the moment he tried to rise, he would lose his balance, so he stayed where he was, narrowing his eyes on his unwelcome guest.
“What in the name of all that is holy do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
He gestured around with a slightly clumsy hand. “What do you think, my dear? I’m having a party.”
“You are destroying this house and yourself. Half your staff have left. Loyal retainers, Jacob.” She flung her gloves onto a table before making a face and picking them back up. “I’ve stood by and watched as you’ve done your best to ruin yourself, but enough is enough.”
“You sound like my brother.”
“Perhaps one of us should. For God’ssake, Jacob.” She began pacing, skirts rustling around her ankles, and he attempted to see the drawing room through her eyes. One of the sofas was upturned; glasses were abandoned on the floor where they had been left. Candle stubs were left on every available surface, and the light was now a little dim. He was probably out of candles and would have to send for some more.
“Oh, look at you.” Louisa stopped before him. “This is pathetic. Do you think I lost myself when the man I loved allowed me to marry another?”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes you do. This is all because you care. Too much.” When his eyelids barely flickered, she snorted. “Oh, go stick your head in a bucket. Then maybe we can talk.” She took hold of his wrist and dragged him out of his chair with surprising strength. “Outside, now.”
“Why are you here?” he asked as he made his unsteady way to the front door. “You weren’t invited.”
“As if that means anything to me,” she said impatiently. “You know I’ve never been one for convention.”
He wrinkled his brow in ponderous confusion. “Did you come here alone?”
“Considering no one knows I’m here, it hardly matters, does it?” She led him into the courtyard to where a pump sat. She pointed underneath it. “Head.”
“Now then, Louisa.” He attempted a charming smile, though his face was a little numb. “We should talk about this.”
“Now, Jacob.”
He eyed the pump. The evening was cool, though the day had been extremely warm, and he knew the water would be cold. He swayed on his feet. “I could refuse.”
Muttering curses under her breath, she took a handful of hair and dragged his head down. Before he could protest or regain his balance, she doused his head with water. It was shockingly cold, so icy it immediately made his bones ache.
“There,” Louisa said as he staggered back. “Now we can talk.”
He shook his head like a dog. An element of sobriety fell back into place and he frowned at Louisa with fresh understanding. “What has happened? Why are you here?”
“Therewe go.” She eyed him for a long moment. “Annabelle has run away from home.”
The words rang dully in his ears and he heard the sound of his breath as he dragged it in. “Impossible.”
“If that were true, I would not be here. She sent me this letter.” There was a note of hysterical amusement in Louisa’s voice as she drew a slip of paper from her reticule. “Asking me to pretend I’m concealing her if her brother comes asking. Ridiculous girl. Thinking I would not object to this plan of hers.”
He ran a clumsy hand over his face, struggling to make sense of everything Louisa was saying. Annabelle had noreasonto run away from home. “Why?”
“ThatidiotHenry thought it would be a good idea to force her into matrimony, but she refuses to marry.” Her laugh was slightly wild. “But do you know who she would have married, Jacob, if you had just asked her? That girl is head over heels for you.”
“But—”
“And if you mention anything about your family or your name or this ridiculous notion in your head that no one can love you, or that you destroy everything in your life, I will duck your head back under there.” She whirled and stormed back to the house. “We leave in half an hour, so get your valet to pack for you—if you still possess one. In fact, never mind.Iwill ask your valet to pack.” She paused at the doorway and glared at him. “And if you refuse, Jacob Barrington, so help me they will never find your body.”
* * *
Jacob had never been so hungover in his life. The rattling, swaying motion of the carriage was doing nothing good to his stomach, and after travelling through the final hours of night, the sun was beginning to rise, sending sharp shafts of pain directly through his eyeballs.
