“I want to apologize.”
His eyes snapped to the door, waiting a good thirty seconds before he finally walked over and opened it, gesturing for her to enter.
Louisa’s hands were clasped together, her neck tight before giving a nod and walking into his room. “Thank you.” She shut the door behind her before turning to him.
Robert drank her in, her eyes roaming his space as he stared. How did he still find her beautiful even as his anger burned? And then it settled on him.
She was in his room.
“Why are you here, Louisa?”
She kicked her foot on the floor before meeting his eyes. “I already told you. I wish to apologize.”
A noble idea, but they needed more. An apology would only get them so far. “I fear an apology will not solve our problems.”
“I know.” She pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “I wanted to explain myself as well.”
Well, that was a welcome surprise. “Very well. Shall we sit?”
She looked around the room again, likely noticing a decided lack of chairs to sit in. “Where?”
“I fear the only place to sit is on my bed.” He held his hand out, gesturing for her to make herself comfortable.
She nodded, going to his bed and patting the space beside her. He didn’t need convincing. Why not be comfortable if they had a long discussion before them? As soon as he sat, he began unlacing his boots.
“You may begin,” he said, keeping his eyes on his laces. While glad she was here to further explain herself, his frustration had yet to abate.
“Would you like the reason or the explanation first?”
He shrugged, slipping off the first boot. He sighed as he released his foot from its fitted confines. “Whichever you wish to give.”
“Very well.” She fussed with a pin in her hair before letting her hand fall to her lap. “I believe I will start with the explanation first. It may make my reason for the argument seem less . . . cruel.”
He undid his other boot, slipping it off with another sigh of relief. “I’m listening.” Then he slipped out of his jacket.
“Goodness, how much are you planning to undress?”
He turned and gave her a knowing look. “You have seen me without my jacket before. And I am tired and wish to prepare myself for bed. Please, continue.” He laid his jacket out on the bed behind him to keep it unencumbered by wrinkles.
“Very well.” She kicked off her slippers, tucking her legs up on his mattress. He could not deny that he enjoyed the look of her in his room, sitting on his bed in the soft glow of the sconces. “In truth, I suppose I am a bit romantically stunted.”
“Romantically stunted?” A mirthless laugh slipped out as he crossed his legs in front of him, running a hand through his hair.
Louisa nodded. “It happened after my father died.”
Propping his elbows on his knees, he gave her his full attention. “Any particular reason? I understand that death can be difficult, but to make youstuntedas you say—”
“It was unexpected.” Her amber-kissed eyes trailed up to his face. “My father and I were very close. But to watch my mother mourn him . . . I believe it broke that part of me.” She ran her finger over the blanket. “Mother hasn’t been the same since, and I promised myself that would never be my fate. If I can avoid such heartbreak, then I would prefer it.”
Understanding dawned on him, and he nodded as the words slipped past his lips. “Like Jessica.”
Her eyes came to his as she picked at the blanket. “Yes. Precisely.”
His stomach sank with dread, like a lead weight falling into the depths of the ocean. Would it ever find purchase and stop its descent? For if what she said was true, then whatever hope he had of winning her affections were slim to nonexistent. All that work taking down his walls, and all for naught. “I see.”
“I picked the fight with you earlier because after you tried to kiss me, I—well, it scared me.”
He gave his head a resigned shake as he rubbed a hand over his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and hoping he could blot out his stupidity at assuming she desired his kiss in the first place. “It scared me, too. But apparently not for the same reason.”
