His heart beat dully in his chest. What had all that work been for? He tore down his walls and let her in—tried to be a man worthy of her love—and all for naught. If anything, he was seeing what Louisa meant about love. It could grieve you to your very bones.
Unable to focus on anything that required an ounce of concentration, he decided to get some air. Perhaps a walk would give him the ability to sort through his thoughts and emotions.
As he walked down the hall to the front door, he was surprised to see a trunk tucked against the wall.
“What?” He spun toward the stairs as Louisa was descending, looking at her feet. “Louisa? What is this?” Robert jerked a thumb toward the chest.
She spared him a quick glance before looking back at her feet. “It is not fair that you leave. You have business to attend to, and this is my choice.” She made it to the black and white marbled floor. “I will go to Henry’s estate in Tunbridge and visit Violet, my mother, and little Colin.”
“Just like that?” The words whispered past his lips. Perhaps it wasn’t work tethering him here after all. It may have been his mind’s way of keeping her near him. For now that she was leaving, he felt ill.
Louisa nodded. “It will be . . . good. The space will allow time to—”
“To forget?”
Her brown, dewy eyes jerked up. She raised her chin. “To think.”
“When do you think you will be back?”
Louisa took a deep breath, looking toward the door as Brooks lifted her trunk and carried it outside. “I do not know. A month? Perhaps more.”
“More?” Desperation caused him to take a step closer. He stopped himself. “Do you think that is necessary?”
“I am unsure what is necessary. I will keep you updated. And if you need something, I will come back. Assuming we keep to our separate quarters.”
Bright light filtered in from the door. It was such a contrast to the overall mood of the moment and Robert found he would much rather it be gray and raining.
“That will not be necessary.” His finger began pattering against his leg. He could not meet her eyes.
Brooks stood by the door, holding it open. “The carriage is ready, Your Grace.”
Louisa gave him a weak smile before turning back to Robert. She reached a hand out, taking his pattering fingers in a firm grasp. “I really am sorry,” she whispered. Her lower lip quivered, on the brink of tears.
“I will be here when you are ready.” He pulled his fingers away, and she hesitated for a brief moment before turning and following Brooks out to the carriage.
Yes, Robert would be here when she was ready, but for Louisa, that would mean she had successfully buried any feelings she had incurred over the last couple of months—her armor reinforced and ready to withstand anything. No matter what . . . Robert would lose.
Louisa had been gone a week and Robert had never realized how sad and lonely an existence he had been living before he married. He even missed Prince and his little feet pattering down the halls, getting into whatever mischief the pup could find. Robert was so lonely that he now found himself sitting with his sister Jessica in her rose-colored room, sipping tea. She was to join their mother at Glennview in a month’s time, once she had finished settling matters here in town.
“How is it you also have a room coordinated by name and color?” He stared into his cup, wishing it contained something a bit stronger.
She shrugged, taking a biscuit from the tray. “I always loved the Lavender Room in Stonemoore, so I wanted the same feeling here.”
“You loved that room?” He brought his cup down onto its saucer with a faint clink.
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
He scoffed. “It was not my favorite. And I hope you do not mind, but I asked Louisa to redecorate it.”
“Oh? Did she not like it either?”
“No. She and I actually have similar tastes. And lavender was not among our first choices.”
“How very nice for you that you have anything in common with your spouse.”
Was that bitterness he detected in her tone? If so, she had nothing to be jealous of. Yes, he loved his wife, but she was doing everything in her power to convince herself that she did not, and would not, ever love him back.
“Louisa left.”
