Wood swallowed and gave a faint nod. “Very well.”
Robert rang the bell on his desk. “Brooks will show you out. It is a bit of a maze to get back from here, and I would rather you not get lost.”
“One last thing.”
Robert placed the papers down. “Yes?”
“I would like your word that you will care for her.”
“Of course. She will not starve on my watch.”
“No.” Wood’s fingers turned white at the tips as he pressed them against the desk. “I want you to actually care for her. Notice her moods. Ask if she is doing well. See she is comfortable here. My sister hides things and I would hate for her to be living in misery and no one even knows . . . or cares.”
“This is not a love match—”
“I know,” Wood cut in, snapping his head up. “Trust me, I know. And for whatever reason, my sister seems fine with that. But for myself, and for my departed father’s wishes, I am asking these things of you. It may seem impertinent, but I have to makethat clear.” Wood stuck his hand out. “Give me your word or this deal is off.”
Robert stared at the proffered hand. What Wood was asking for wasn’t much. Mostly making sure Miss Morgan was comfortable in her life and circumstances, which Robert had already planned on doing. He reached forward, taking Wood’s hand. “You have my word.”
Chapter three
Louisa sat on herbed, knees pulled to her chest as she gazed at the stars through her bedroom window. She could make out several smaller constellations through the square opening, but nothing like she would see if she ventured outside. Her thoughts turned wistful as she considered it. How long had it been since those deep silences shrouded the house, driving her out of doors just to hear something? She would lay in the grass, arms above her head as she listened to the light breeze rustling the leaves of the trees above her. She had even dozed off a time or two, waking up to birdsong and the early morning sunrise that would kiss the sky with varying hues of pink. And there, in the quiet of night or early morning, Louisa had been able to cry where no one would see. She could be away from the closed door of her mother’s room, silent from a distance, but as one neared, soft sobs would permeate the breadth of the door that separated them.
Now, after all these years, Louisa often wondered why she had not opened the door and crawled in with her mother, joining herinstead of leaving the door between them, each alone in their misery. The truth, she supposed, was she did not enjoy others seeing that part of her.
Did she dare go outside now? It could be the last time before such actions could be questioned by her soon-to-be husband.
Husband.
Louisa turned the word over in her mind, attempting to come to grips with it. For so many years, she had put the idea off, not wanting to end with the same fate as her mother—a shell of the woman she once was. But a marriage to the duke would be nothing like the marriage her parents had shared. The duke would offer Louisa a home, a secure future, and a comfortable life. And with his prickly demeanor, she was safe from forming any true attachment to him.
Louisa gave the window one last yearning glance before laying her head down on her pillow for the night. Tomorrow she and her mother were to go to Stonemoore, the duke’s residence just outside of town, to go over ideas for the ceremony—and she could not very well show up with bags beneath her eyes from little to no sleep. But when her head hit the pillow, her mind began to wander, keeping her awake. Perhaps going outside would offer her a much-needed distraction after all. And so, in the dead of night, she slipped from her bed, softly padding down the stairs and outside onto the chill, green grass where the brisk night air welcomed her.
And the stars whispered her name.
The next morning, Louisa barely saw herself in the looking glass, focused as she was on Violet’s erratic pacing behind her. She hadindeed fallen asleep in the grass last night, and was checking her hair to be sure no twigs or leaves protruded, giving herself away.
“This cannot be happening. You have simply gone mad.” Violet put a gentle hand to her chignon. “You do not wish to marry. And yet, some man you have barely spoken to shows up at your brother’s house and you say yes!” With that last statement, Violet spun toward her, meeting her eye in the looking glass.
Louisa let her shoulders sag, turning to face her directly. “I have thought this through, Violet. I do not take it lightly.”
“I do not understand how that can be so.” Violet shook her head, refusing to see reason.
Louisa stood, walking to Violet and taking her hands in her grasp. She smiled. “You and Henry set such a good example of marriage. How can I not want that for myself?”A blatant lie.
Violet rolled her eyes. “Now I know you are only attempting to placate me. Henry and I married for love. This is much different. You do not even know this man!”
“Fine,” Louisa finally conceded. “I do not care for him romantically. And I doubt I ever shall.” She grasped Violet’s hands more firmly. “And that is precisely why I have accepted him.”
Violet’s brow puckered, and she sighed, so deep and long that Louisa almost sighed herself at the dramatics of it. Violet closed her eyes, then snapped them back open. “Please, explain yourself.”
Louisa shrugged, dropping Violet’s hands. “I want a practical marriage. Something that makes logical sense. The duke has offered that to me.”
“But you can simply stay with Henry and Colin and me. There is no need to run off and marry a near stranger.”
Louisa walked over to the bed and patted the spot beside her, and Violet obligingly followed. When she sat and gave Louisa her attention, Louisa continued.
“You and Henry have begun your own family. I do not want to intrude.” She held her hand up before Violet could protest. “You may say I am not intruding, but I feel as if I am.”
