“It looks like it doesn’t much matter. You are miserable without him, so why not be happy while you can be?”
“And so the cycle continues.” Louisa sighed, pushing back from the counter. “I suppose I should get some sleep. And so should you.” She pointed a finger at him.
“If you give me reason to stop fretting over you, I might be able to.” His words made worry niggle at her, but then he smiled. “I am teasing. Now, off to bed with you.”
And so she made her way back to her room, where a cold, empty bed awaited her.
Chapter twenty-nine
Robert bellied up toa table at White’s, unable to stand the silence of his home anymore. He came in the hopes of being distracted, but the crowd of men only made him realize he didn’t want just any company.
He wanted Louisa’s.
For the sake of appearances, Robert decided to stay long enough for one drink before retreating to his tomb. The one where dead memories of love clung to the walls.
He worried that nowhere would ever feel whole again.
The server placed a finger of brandy in front of him, then bowed and left him alone. Though alone was not the word Robert would have used. Yes, no one deigned to come near him, likely from the frustrated scowl he wore, but the room was filled with men’s voices and booming laughs. He wasn’t sure which was worse—the aching quiet of his home . . . or this.
He wiped a drop of brandy from his lip, and thoughts of his last night with Louisa surfaced again. That memory had played in his mind nearly every hour of every day since she had left. Thelast moment of happiness he had before everything was stripped away. Had it been worth tearing his walls down? He had never felt so exposed to the feelings of life, not since his childhood—before he had erected those very walls that had protected him.
A boisterous laugh burst forth near the bar. Robert glanced over, and there stood Lord Griffith, laughing and enjoying a glass of port with a group of men. Robert was glad for his lucid state, for if this was his third glass instead of his first, he would have been tempted to take the man by the front of his shirt and toss him across the room. As a gentleman, Griffith knew better than to have meetings with Jessica. And if he was willing to do that, what other things was the man doing under the blanket of secrecy?
Just then, Robert saw Griffith slide money across the counter to Lord Lambert, tipping his face down to hide his mouth as he spoke.
It wasn’t strange to place bets amongst gentlemen, but the quizzical brow of Lord Lambert had Robert intrigued.
Perhaps it would be better to cut his losses and go home. But now, every room there reminded him of Louisa. His sleeping quarters where they shared a door. The Lavender Room where they discussed, planned, and oversaw the renovations. The kitchen where he had followed her like a puppy after first deciding to change their relationship. And, of course, his library, where they had kissed and fallen asleep together until the early whispering light of morning.
Perhaps he should have been the one to leave after all.
The next morning, Robert made a conscious decision to keep Louisa from his thoughts. He could not make the choice for her,and he needed to let go of the illusion of control—something both he and Louisa struggled to realize.
They could not control everything in life.
Striding to the dining room, he made every effort to continue with that premise in the front of his thoughts. But when he sat, and Brooks handed him the paper, he didn’t have to try and forget his problems with Louisa—for there on the front page was an article titledPeers turned Pugilists.
His nerves flared to high alert, blood coursing through his ears and heart pounding in his chest. How was this possible? They had been so careful to keep things secret.
A voice whispered into his thoughts.Was it his fault?Did he and Louisa make it too obvious in their attempts to make it home the other day? It wasn’t as if it could have been helped, but no matter what he thought, he still doubted that their questions and presence could have been enough to uncover their secret. But then how else?
He scanned the contents of the article where the author listed names of peers they speculated were involved. Including his own.
Robert gently laid the paper down, closing his eyes. He had lost Louisa, and now the one other thing in his life that brought him a sense of individuality was crushed before his very eyes. They were not even supposed to have matches within city limits, so a summons from Prinny was likely in order. He would have to sit there and receive a tongue lashing as to how a peer,a dukeno less, should behave. Not to mention the attention this would draw to himself. If he so much as walked out his front door, reporters and busybodies would be huddled about, waiting to barrage him with questions and gossip.
Nothing sounded worse. But if Louisa were here, then it would be more bearable. She would straighten her shoulders, look them dead in the eye, and laugh it off, not giving it a secondthought. She would protect him from the unwanted attention—hold his hand when his fingers could not be still.
She would be his walls for him.
Robert needed to speak with someone, and before he could question the wisdom of it, his feet were moving toward the servants’ entrance. He was hoping to avoid as many eyes as possible.
As his carriage rambled along the rear drive, he caught sight of a crowd outside the main gate of his sister’s townhouse. His insides lurched. While he had avoided the nosey nellies this time, he would eventually be confronted with the whole mess. Likely sooner than later.
And sooner it was.
As Robert’s carriage approached Jessica’s townhouse, he was frustrated to see three men pacing outside the door on the street. Luckily, Gulliver was good at his job and passed by the house, taking a turn at the corner and heading down the back alley where he could enter more discreetly, even going as far as escorting Robert inside in case someone should appear unexpectedly.
They slipped through the servants’ entrance, but instead of the quiet Robert expected, he heard voices. One which was distinctly male.
