Bray and Harrison said their good-byes to Mrs. Colthrust, Miss Gwen, and the count and headed for the entrance. While they waited for the attendant to get their cloaks, Bray said, “I’m afraid I used you as a decoy, Harrison.”
Harrison frowned. “I suppose I’m not opposed to that, but how so?”
“I am not going to White’s with you tonight, but I do need you to leave the party with me and go to the club or somewhere after we part.”
“Because?”
“I didn’t want to make Mrs. Colthrust suspicious by leaving alone immediately after finding out that Miss Prim is not here.”
“Ah.” Harrison nodded. “And Miss Prim is home alone, I gather.”
“With sisters and servants, I suppose she is never alone, and before you ask, yes, that is where I’m headed. I hope you don’t mind.”
Bray had no way of knowing if Miss Prim herself or one of the servants would come to the door, but at this point, he didn’t care. He hoped he was right in thinking that Louisa wouldn’t go to bed until she knew Gwen was home from the parties.
He wanted to see Louisa and make sure she was all right.
“Well, I do feel used,” Harrison said with a teasing smirk. “And take my word for it, it’s not so easy to jump from a bedroom window now as it was when we were younger.”
“I appreciate the concern, but I don’t plan to be jumping from any windows.”
But he wasn’t sure Louisa didn’t feel like pushing him out of one.
Chapter 22
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be wooed, and were not made to woo.
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream,act 2, scene 1
Louisa lay curled on the settee in the drawing room, her head propped on a pillow and the lamp on the table beside her burning low.
Feeling wretched by the time she’d returned home from the park, Louisa quickly said good-bye to the duke with hardly a glance in his direction. She immediately shut herself in her bedroom but soon realized that if she were alone, she would end up crying her eyes out and everyone in the house would know it, so she hurried down the stairs and stayed busy with the younger girls until she put them to bed.
Later, when it was time to dress for the evening’s parties, she had no choice but to plead a headache from too much sun. She simply wasn’t up to going out and pretending to enjoy herself.
Louisa needed time to be alone and ponder not only all the emotions stirred inside her from talking with the duke about Nathan and the night he died, but also her womanly desires for the duke. She hadn’t been able to shake them. Every time he kissed her, she wanted him to kiss her again. It seemed so unfair that he had ended up being the man of her dreams. He didn’t love her and she doubted he was capable of loving any woman. But she knew now that she wanted him to love her.
She’d believed him when he said that if she asked him to, he would marry her and fulfill his vow to her brother. And when she was in his arms kissing him, she was thinking she would very much like to be his wife so she could love him with all the feelings she had inside her—but could she really do that to him?
And would it be fair to her sisters? She’d watched him cringe every time one of the girls screamed, and seen how annoyed he was when Sybil cried. He’d looked as if he were about ready to chew nails into powder from their incessant talking when they were in the park. She could allow him to continue being their guardian, but could she subject him to living with her sisters on a daily basis and making a home with them?
She would not live without them, no matter how much she loved the duke.
In time, she would forget about his stimulating kisses, caresses, and embraces. She would keep telling herself she didn’t love him, couldn’t love a man like the Duke of Drakestone.
But she did.
Louisa had changed into her nightrail earlier in the evening, thinking she would go to bed. And she had for a few minutes, before she was up and donning her robe again. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. All afternoon, all she’d wanted to do was be by herself and cry, and yet when the house went quiet and she was alone in the safety of her room, the tears wouldn’t flow.
Her body was tired and weary, but her mind was as active as ever. She decided she wouldn’t try to sleep again until after Gwen and Mrs. Colthrust returned home. Maybe then she would finally be able to rid herself of the miserable feelings. Thankfully, Mrs. Colthrust hadn’t given her any trouble about wanting to stay home.
Only a little warmth emanated from the fireplace, but Louisa didn’t care that the drawing room was chilled. She snuggled deeper into her robe and tucked her long hair around her neck. Louisa had insisted that Mrs. Woolwythe and the other maids go to bed so she could be alone, but they wouldn’t until all the fires had been banked and all lamps but the one Louisa was using had been extinguished.
She lay in the semidarkness, wondering how different her life would have been had her parents lived, if Nathan were still alive. She would probably be married by now, maybe with a babe of her own. She wouldn’t be responsible for her sisters. Tears of sorrow for the loss of her parents and Nathan as well as her own lot in life puddled in her eyes, and just as she was thinking they would spill down her cheeks so she could release her pent-up emotion and weep in earnest, she heard a noise that sounded like a light knock. She sat up and strained her ears to listen. It would be horrible if Bonnie, Sybil, or Lillian came running in and caught her crying like a baby.
The knocking came again.
