Her heart hurt. Had he not known that she could have handled this on her own?
Then again, he had disapproved of her method of reverse-blackmail, and so he had rendered it utterly unnecessary.
That high-handed, objectionablefool.
“Did he say anything when he brought this around?” she asked, her voice tight.
“He asked to see you.”
“He did?” She looked sharply up at him from where she was kneeling on the floor. “Then why did you not wake me?”
As always. Avery looked utterly untouched by the irritation in her voice. “I judged it best, my lady. The gentleman seemed somewhat inebriated, and as you had retired some hours beforehand, I thought not to wake you.”
“Drunk?” Louisa’s brows knitted. “Henry?”
“So it seemed, my lady.”
“Surely not.”
“I can only say what I observed.”
She touched her throat as she thought. What had become of him in the short time since they parted? She had never known him to drink more than a glass, and he often refused even that.
Yet Avery was not to be doubted, and he had seen far more of drunken gentlemen than even she had, no doubt. After all, he had presided over Bolton’s house.
“He left a note, my lady,” Avery said, seeming to her as though he relented. “I have it here. Would you like to read it?”
“Yes, at once.” She snatched the paper from his hands and unfolded it eagerly. The handwriting was somewhat sloppier than she was used to from him, although it still had his distinctively assured letters. “Tomorrow I leave for the country,” she mumbled as she read, and she shook her head, trying to clear it. Although it was not overtly a declaration, it was as close to. And his intentions, no doubt, were honourable. In true Henry fashion, he had sacrificed himself for her sake.
If she didn’t love him so much, she would hate him.
“Avery,” she began, and paused as she heard voices from the front hall. “Is that Mr Knight?”
“If it is, would you like to see him?”
As little as half an hour ago, she would have said there was nothing she wanted more. She had the information that would compel him to retract his claim over her money. It was a battle of wills and resources, and she had won.
But now there was nothing more she wanted than to see Henry. If nothing else, to bring him down a peg or two. Then kiss him.
“He truly has a knack for discovering me at my worst moments,” Louisa muttered. “Very well. Show him to the libraryand tell him I’ll be with him shortly. And while I’m occupied with him, have the carriage brought around. I must lose no time.”
Avery inclined his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Alone in the room again, she sank into a chair and gave herself a few seconds to close her eyes and just breathe. She had told herself that she could not marry him, that she would never marry anyone ever again, that their past hurts—her barrenness—were obstacles too great to overcome. Yet despite it all, he had prevailed. Without her so much as noticing, he had banished her hurt, soothing it with the evidence of his love.
He had broken every vow for her.
She loved him.
She could not deny it any more: freedom was no longer enough when she must do it alone.
If he would have her once he learnt the truth, then she would give it all up for a chance at happiness. Heaven knew it had been long enough in the making.
Just as soon as she disposed of Knight.
She rose, brushing down her dress, and walked through the house to the library. Mr Knight was already there, pacing, and when she entered the room, he turned on his heel, his face flushed with anger and his coat creased.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
