“Not today. I rarely come here during the day at all.” He put a hand to her back, guiding her forward. Goodness, he was strong. And his hands felt . . . safe. Comforting. Gentle, even.
Best to stop those thoughts in their tracks.
“Come inside with me for a moment as I gather my things. We will find someone to see to your horse.”
“And why would I not simply ride it back?”
“Because it is not safe. I shall hire a coach.”
“That seems rather silly, considering we both have mounts to take us.”
“It is not silly to keep my wife safe.”
“Are you used to giving orders?”
He stopped, turning to face her. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” His hands went to his hips as his breathing struggled. “And to find you here with a man of ill intent has been rather upsetting. So please allow me to get you home safely.”
She slowed her steps, gently kicking her slippered feet against some pebbles lying on the ground.
They slipped into the building where he set his attire to rights, mopping his brow with a small towel that he tossed into a basket on the edge of the room before donning his topper. He had been off ever since receiving the news of his brother-in-law’s death. It was hard to believe it was only this morning Lord Drake had passed, what with all that had occurred since then: following the duke through town, figuring out he was a secret pugilist, almost being accosted by a shady individual, watching Robert with intent fascination as he flicked said man across the alleyway as one might a crumb from their finger . . . Just remembering it made Louisa’s heart pick up speed.
What a strange day this had been.
And what a strange man her husband was.
Chapter thirteen
Robert knelt on thefloor in front of Louisa, examining her hand. The mantle held a small fire to give them extra light since evening had fully descended by the time they arrived home. His mother had not yet returned, and Robert hoped that meant Jessica had finally snapped to her senses and decided to mourn her loss.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, moving her thumb.
She winced. “Yes. But I can move it.” She wiggled the appendage to prove her claim.
He shook his head. “You are lucky you did not break it. When punching someone, you must never tuck your thumb into your palm.”
“Forgive me for being inept at pugilism. I had not intended to have need of it.”
He felt a soft chuckle tickle his chest, but kept his face calm. Feeling a strange pull, he looked up to find his wife watching him, her eyes soft and tender. “Why do you do that?” Her voice was almost a whisper.
“Do what?”
Her eyes dipped from his face. “Withhold your smiles.”
He paused. It was a reaction borne from many years of practice. Now, he rarely had to try to withhold them. They simply didn’t come. At least, not easily. And not without his permission. He appreciated having the ability to control what people saw and what they didn’t. It kept him safe. But with Louisa, apparently, his defenses crumbled.
Seeming to notice his hesitancy, she continued. “Do you wish to talk about what happened at your sister’s today?”
His eyes fell to her hand, so small and delicate in his own. Why was he still holding it? “There isn’t much to say, I’m afraid.”
“It seemed to upset you.”
He swallowed, but before he could respond, she continued. “We did agree to be friends, did we not?”
“I suppose,” he said, a bit reluctantly. “But I do not wish to burden you.”
She twisted her hand in his grasp, tightening her grip. “We are married, Robert.”
A warmth spread through his chest. A familiarity rang through her words that made him want to take off his mask for once. If he wished for her to mourn him one day, he needed to give her something of himself. But could he trust her? To not mock what was within or rebuff his heart?
