by Yasmine Nash
“My, you don’t look well, Miss Kellynch,” Mariella said in that too-sweet voice.
“A headache,” Louisa said absently. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll retire to my room and rest awhile. I shall be sure to inform His Grace of your visit,” she added.
Mariella waved this away. “No need,” she said cheerily. “I shall return another time. My best wishes for your health.” And with that, Mariella spun around, leaving Louisa to ponder their conversation.
She actually had developed a headache. A nap would be just what she needed to help clear her head and think rationally about everything. There was no reason to believe a word Mariella had said, except—
Surely Mariella wasn’t lying about her former relationship with Jon, No woman would play about with her reputation like that unless she truly expected a man to make her an offer. But why hadn’t Jon ever mentioned a past history with Mariella? Unless that was why he had insisted on introducing Louisa to the Pettyfers in Devonshire. So he would have an excuse to resume his acquaintance with his former love.
Her head spun. Louisa would rest, but first, she would change out of these stained clothes. When she was pulling the gown from her head, she felt a crackle of paper in one of the pockets. Reaching her hand inside, she pulled out several crumpled papers. The ink had run as though it had been through the wash more than once, but the writing was still legible.
She tried to place how they had wound up in her pocket, then she remembered the receipts she had snatched from Jon’s trunk the day before she left Devonshire. She’d stuffed them in the pocket of her gown just before Mrs. Cassidy had caught her in the room, and then she’d been so busy running away to London and helping Mildred, she’d forgotten all about them.
Curious, Louisa smoothed the papers out on her bed so she could read them. Some of the papers were useless receipts, just as she’d suspected, probably from a steward or butler. But there was one paper in the bundle that looked newer, and unlike the others, it was in Jon’s handwriting.
Written across the paper was a list of properties, each with several numbers beside it. There was Jon’s manor in Devonshire, the cottage where Mildred would soon be moving, the London home, plus half a dozen other cottages, manors, and lodges Louisa didn’t even recognize, but which she assumed also belonged to the duke. And there, at the bottom of the list with a large circle around it, was Haverton.
So for some reason, Jon had been creating a ledger of all his properties? Surely his steward had all that information somewhere, so this must have been some sort of passing thought on his part. To what purpose? So he could remind himself of how rich he was?
The numbers next to each property were bothering Louisa, but after a few minutes, she thought she had puzzled them out. The numbers added up to the value of each estate. And Haverton was the only location on the list circled. It could mean anything, of course, but it unsettled her, nonetheless.
Nap forgotten, Louisa jumped up and crept toward Jon’s bedroom. She had a guess as to what the list meant, but she wanted to find out for sure. The duke was still out and with any luck, would be gone for several more hours. Hopefully, enough time to find anything that might prove her suspicions wrong.
* * *
Jon had difficulty paying attention during his meeting with the lawyer that morning. The poor man had had to repeat himself so many times that he’d grown hoarse by the end of the discussion. It was just hard to focus when Jon’s argument with Louisa from last night kept replaying in his mind.
The fact that they kept arguing about the same topics must mean they weren’t as well suited for each other as he had thought. Jon wondered if his sister had seen similar warning signs during her courtship with Timothy and just ignored them.
With all these troubling thoughts whirling in his head, it was a relief when he was finally finished with business for the day. With any luck, the last strings in Timothy’s legal and financial struggles would finally be tied up within the week. That alone was cause for celebration. Even if there was little else to celebrate in his life at the moment.
The Park Lane residence was silent when Jon returned just after noon. The servants were probably out shopping and Louisa—perhaps she was spending the day with Jacob Pettyfer, Jon thought bitterly. He’d head up to change and then see if he could convince his friend Brian Woodford to keep him company. Jon didn’t much feel like being alone at the moment.
But when he went upstairs, he found something completely unexpected. Jon halted at the doorway to his bedroom, trying to understand the scene before him. Louisa was seated at his writing desk and there were papers scattered all around the desktop and on the floor.
As Jon came further into the room, he recognized them as part of the correspondence he’d been sharing with his lawyer and banker. The correspondence which had been securely tucked away in his desk drawer this morning. The realization that she had been snooping through his personal belongings struck him like a blow.
“What in the hell is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
Louisa looked up at him, and Jon noticed the tears on her face for the first time. Her eyes were swollen, as though she’d been crying for a while. For a moment, he forgot his anger, wanting nothing more than to rush forward and wipe the wetness from her cheeks.
“I should ask you the same thing,” she said icily. She waved a paper in the air. “Haverton, Jonathan? Of all your holdings, you had to sell off Haverton?”
He winced. Damn. She must have found the sale agreement he’d had drawn up. He had meant to tell her. Eventually. But they hadn’t exactly been on the best terms recently. He had known she wouldn’t take the news well, and here was evidence of that. Still, he hadn’t expected her to be quite this upset. It was only a house, after all.
“You know I had to rearrange my assets to cover Timothy’s debts.”
Louisa laughed coldly. “Of course. And it’s not as though you have half a dozen other holdings at your disposal to choose from; No, you decided to select the place that means more to me than anything in the world and sell it off to the highest bidder.” The paper shook in her hands. “Of everything I expected to find, it wasn’t this, Jon”
His heart clenched at the hurt on her face. “I didn’t want to, Louisa, but I don’t have any choice in the matter.”
Louisa scoffed. “Are you really going to lie right to my face? I know you’ve been just waiting for an excuse to sell Haverton off. Tell me, Jon, how long ago did you make up your mind? It must have felt so gratifying when Timothy’s mishap gave you the perfect excuse to offload Haverton. Too bad you weren’t able to get rid of me so easily.”
“What are you talking about?” Jon asked, truly mystified.
“I found this,” Louisa said, pulling a crumpled paper from her pocket, “in your room in Longfield. Before you even knew about Timothy’s debts.”
Jon took the paper from her hand and winced when he realized what it was. He had to admit, this looked incriminating, but he had forgotten he’d even written this. The thought to sell off Haverton had popped into his mind late one night soon after receiving his attorney’s letter about the entail, before he’d even met Louisa.
Louisa. Who had just admitted she’d found this in his room in Longfield. Although “found” probably wasn’t the best word. “Stolen” more like.
“And how long have you been spying on me?” he demanded. “Or have you been false this whole time?” The guilty look on Louisa’s face told Jon everything he needed to know. Somehow, Mariella had been right, after all. Louisa had been playing him for a fool for weeks—possibly even as long as he’d known her—and he’d fallen for it. Damn it.
He must have spoken at least some of these thoughts aloud unknowingly, because Louisa’s expression changed from guilt to something Jon couldn’t read. “What does Mariella Pettyfer have to do with any of this?” she demanded.
“She warned me,” Jon said wonderingly. “I don’t know how, but she knew you were hidin
g something from me. I just wish I had heeded her warnings sooner.” Then his heart might not be breaking in two right now from Louisa’s betrayal.
Louisa sneered. “I should have known. Of course you believe her; she’s your former lover, after all, right?” Louisa must have read the truth in his face because her voice trembled a little as she went on. “Well, I won’t get in the way of you or Mariella any longer. You’ve never wanted me in your life, so I won’t trouble you with my presence a moment more.”
She strode from the room. Jon just let her go. She was right. He had had enough. How many times would they go in circles, arguing and lying and mistrusting each other? Enough. It was finally over. With a sudden burst of fury, Jon gathered up the papers from his desk and threw them all in the fireplace, taking pleasure in watching each page go up in flames.
Chapter 14
Louisa wasn’t sure what her next step would be, but she knew she couldn’t stand another moment in that house with Jon. She hurriedly packed up a few necessities, then ran outside to saddle up Peppercorn. She had half a thought that Jon might try to prevent her from leaving, but he hadn’t appeared when she ran out the front door. So nothing would be stopping her from doing whatever she pleased.
There was a drawstring purse full of coins around her neck. Determining to rent a room for as long as the coins would last, Louisa directed Peppercorn toward a nearby inn she had passed several times during her stay in London. To her relief, she encountered no difficulties in reserving the room there; perhaps the innkeepers around here were used to seeing unaccompanied, distraught young ladies wandering about.
With her lodgings settled, at least for now, Louisa huddled alone at a table in the common area, letting the raucous sounds from her fellow patrons roll over her. When the barmaid, unasked, placed a mug of beer in front of Louisa, she pushed it away from herself with a grimace. Too many memories were associated with that particular drink.
Now that the rush of adrenaline was beginning to die down, Louisa couldn’t stop the memories from a few hours before from taking over her thoughts. The feeling of betrayal when she had found the letter, hidden practically in plain sight. She should have known better than to trust the man. She had known better, and yet she’d let her emotions stand in the way of her mission.
Ever since coming to London, Louisa had been so distracted by Jon that she had completely forgotten to be on the lookout for any information that could help her with the entail. And now, she had lost both Haverton and Jon as her punishment. She wallowed in the feeling of betrayal, poking at it like someone else might poke at a loose tooth.
Louisa flagged down the barmaid to ask for a glass of wine. If she was going to indulge in regrets, then she might as well do it right.
* * *
Jon strode fiercely back and forth in his bedroom, eyes avoiding the mess of correspondence Louisa had left behind her. Even angry as he was, he’d had to restrain himself from following her when he’d heard the front door slam. Right now, he needed to be in motion or else it felt as though he might explode.
His thoughts were a whir. He had let his guard down, and for what? To allow Louisa Kellynch to trample all over his heart? Jon had been right all along, although that thought gave him little solace. Louisa was too young and flighty. He should have known she was insincere from the first moment he saw her smiling at Jacob Pettyfer. The signs had been there all along, he had seen them, but lately, he’d convinced himself to ignore them. Her impetuousness, her improper behaviors: they all should have signaled to him not to become entangled with her.
Jon had almost come close to making the same mistake his sister had made. Mildred had fallen for an impetuous person, and she had ended up in a near-constant cycle of misery as a result. But Jon’s mistake would have been even worse. Because deep down, Jon thought Timothy actually loved Mildred; Louisa had just been using him.
Well, from now on Jon would keep his head about him and not let himself get carried away by his emotions anymore. Logic and honor would resume their rightful places in his life.
Thank goodness things had ended before he’d gotten around to proposing. Since Louisa was the one who had stormed out, he would suffer no compunction or guilt, and she could not reasonably accuse him of leading her on.
Yes. Everything had worked out for the best…and maybe if Jon kept telling himself that, he would start to believe it.
* * *
That first night, Louisa had drunk the better part of a bottle of wine on an empty stomach, then cried herself to sleep on the cold mattress in her rented room.
Three days had passed since she’d come to the inn. Three days of absolute independence, where Louisa was free to do whatever she wanted, when she wanted it. It was what she had dreamed of since she’d first learned about the duke taking guardianship of her. She finally had her freedom.
And she was miserable.
Not even riding Peppercorn was enough to cheer her up. It was hard to get past the gaping sense of loneliness which clawed at her at all hours, even invading her dreams while she slept. Louisa had lived alone for eight months in Haverton after her parents had died, and she’d survived just fine. The problem was Jon had come along and reminded her what it felt like to be surrounded by someone you loved. What it felt like to have a family.
She seemed to break down into tears these days at the slightest provocation, and today was no exception. Louisa tried to tell herself that her tears were disappointment at the failure of her plan and not due to her broken heart. She almost succeeded in convincing herself of that lie. After all, Haverton was lost, sold off like a sack of grain, and she’d never have the chance to walk its halls again; never even had the chance to say goodbye. She was devastated.
Yet the memories that kept popping up in her mind were not of her old home, but of Jon looking vulnerable as he told her about his parents; Jon playing Speculation just for her; Jon leaning over to wipe frosting from her face.
There was no denying it. She missed the duke. No, not just missed him. She loved him. Even her anger and betrayal faded under this realization. And she couldn’t bear that he was walking around in this world believing she had never cared for him.
* * *
Mildred and Timothy would finally be leaving London at the end of the week. With this situation nearly settled and his other business in London complete, Jon should have been planning his return to Devonshire. Because of the distractions over the past few weeks, he had been neglecting his estate—a matter which his steward had been reminding him of in every letter.
This morning was rare in that Jon had no demands on his time. No ward to worry about. No business to attend to, no meetings or appointments with friends. Even the housekeeper was out. Just him, to spend his time as he pleased. It was everything he’d wanted since he’d received that fateful letter from his attorney all those months ago. His time was finally his own again.
To celebrate, Jon would take advantage of the silence. In fact, it had been ages since he’d had a chance to just sit and read the paper. This was the perfect time to do so, with the sun streaming in brightly through the drawing room windows. Jon picked a comfortable leather armchair, sat down, and opened the newspaper. Minutes passed before he realized his mind had wandered off. He shook the paper out and re-focused his gaze, but it was no good. His eyes kept reading the same words over and over without taking anything in.
The problem was the London home was so quiet without anyone in it. Even the hustle and bustle from the streets outside seemed muted somehow. Louisa had filled this space with light and sound. Jon hadn’t realized until now how much he had adapted to her humming in the halls and her chatter over meals until he was without them. And this was the crux of what was still holding Jon in London, although he hated to admit it. He still had feelings for Louisa.
A knock on the door jolted him from these uncomfortable reminiscences. Then the sound of a woman’s footsteps walking toward the drawing room. Was it possible she had returned?
&nbs
p; Jon half rose from his seat, unsure what he’d do if he saw Louisa right now. All he knew was his heart had started pounding in his chest.
Mariella Pettyfer entered the room. Jon sank back into his seat, swallowing the foolish disappointment he felt at the sight of her.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, Jon,” Mariella said, cocking her head to one side.
“Have you?” Jon asked coldly. He could honestly say Mariella Pettyfer hadn’t crossed his mind once since his argument with Louisa.
“We had something special, don’t you think?” she asked, coming closer and trailing a finger down his arm. “Why did we ever end things between us?”
He looked at Mariella in disbelief, his eyebrows raised. Their tryst had ended years ago, and he had been under the impression that she was just as eager as he had been to finally see it conclude. Why else had their families engaged so little over the past years until just recently?
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” she said, chuckling at the look on his face. “No, I want something much more…primal…from you.”
She leaned in to kiss him, but Jon turned his face aside. He had no desire to kiss Mariella Pettyfer ever again and he told her so.
Their relationship when they were younger had been a mistake. Just as now, Mariella had been the instigator then as well, Jon realized. But now he was wise enough not to wish to repeat those same mistakes.
The look on the woman’s face at being shunned was one of deep offense. As though he was a plaything and Mariella was entitled to Jon’s body whenever she liked. That alone was enough to remove any lingering guilt he might have felt at hurting Mariella’s feelings.
“I can see when I’m not wanted,” Mariella said stiffly, rising from her perch near Jon “But when you’re all alone in your cold manor at night, you’ll regret this, Jon,” she said before she strode from the room and onto the street outside. She did not say goodbye.
