by Ella Edon
He stood slowly, making his approach obvious. Louisa didn’t face him. “I am telling this to you because I want to explain why I acted the way I did last night. When I smelled the wine on your lips, I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of you. I kept thinking about that night, how my mother had suffered, and I did not want to make you feel any less comfortable than you already are. If you were to wake the next morning forgetting what we had done, I would not be able to live with myself. Worse if you had remembered and regretted it.”
She said nothing. Jerome frowned. He went all the way up the vanity, alarm rushing through him when he saw her shoulders shaking. “Louisa?”
Jerome sank by her side, but she turned her head away from him. She raised a hand to her nose, sniffling. The sound ripped through his chest.
“I did not tell you that story to make you cry,” he said apologetically. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to hold her against him. Resisting the urge was a difficult feat.
She lowered her hand, sniffled once more, and then faced him. She’d done well hiding her tears, but Jerome was not to be fooled. “It is quite a sad story,” she said, her voice level. “I am sorry you had to endure that.”
“Do you understand?” he asked. “It did not do its job if you do not understand.”
“I understand that you are a warmhearted man, despite how you acted when we first met.”
“Why do those words fill me with dread?”
He’d said the words in jest, feeling a little uneasy at her dry tone. “It should not,” she said. “I simply…do not know what to say.”
Her eyes fell at that, brows furrowing. He wondered if she was fighting the tears back again. Jerome shook his head. “You do not need to say anything. What you need to do is eat. I know you have not had anything since the beginning of the day.”
“Are you spying on me?” she asked.
“I am making sure you are well,” he corrected. He rose, tilting his head to the food. “It will grow colder if we linger too much.”
Jerome made his way over to the trays and uncovered them. In the corner of his eye, he saw Louisa stand and approach slowly.
Because he knew she did not know what to say, he filled the silence. “I trust you have been sleeping well?”
“Will you continue to ask me that every time you see me?” she muttered.
“I will until I receive a decent response,” he stated simply. He sat, gesturing for her to join him.
She did so tentatively. “It is better than before.”
“Then I take it you do not need me to lie by your side tonight, as well?”
As impossible as it seemed, she grew even stiffer. She didn’t respond. Jerome winced. “I am afraid my joke has not settled well.”
“Perhaps it is a sign for you to stop,” she mumbled.
Jerome paused in the process of lifting his spoon to his mouth. She did not touch anything, only staring at the food before her. Hurt flashed through him when he noticed how aloof she was being, even after all he’d said. Even after how she’d reacted.
“Louisa, do you not care for me at all?” he asked without warning.
Louisa’s eyes snapped up to his, widening. She opened her mouth and then closed it, clearly at a loss for words. Jerome didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t fill the silence this time. He needed a response.
But Louisa would not say anything. She stared at him, some unnamed emotion shining in those blue irises. That was all the response he needed.
“I see.” Jerome scraped his chair back as he got to his feet. “I did not realize how much I have bothered you tonight. You must forgive me.”
He hoped she would say something then, that she would call out to him. Even if she didn’t know what to say, he needed to only hear his name to know that he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. But she remained quiet, not taking her eyes off him.
Jerome clenched his jaw tightly as he respectfully tilted his head to her in farewell then made his way to the door. Her silence followed in his wake, all the way out into the hallway. When the door was closed, Jerome sighed, resting against it.
So, it is as I feared. It was the wine that made her act that way.
She didn’t truly want him. She didn’t care for him. She’d only been aroused and had pounced on him without thinking. Had he given into his need, he would have surely woken up to her regret the next day. Jerome was happy he’d been smart enough to step away from the very start.
But right now he felt like an idiot. He’d fooled himself into thinking that Louisa was beginning to care for him, that he needed to give her some time to sort through all that was on her mind. He didn’t understand her pain, but Jerome knew it blocked her path to happiness and he had been more than willing to clear it if he could.
But her response just now was all he needed to know. Louisa was not falling for him, and for a man who knew he was foolishly in love, he could sense the heartache in his future.
The next morning, Jerome prepared to leave as soon as dawn broke. There was a man he knew he had to meet with, which he had been putting off for some time now. It was so he could remain with Louisa, but now, Jerome wanted to get out of the manor. He couldn’t be anywhere near her right now.
“Are you certain, Mr. Cooper?”
Jerome nodded as he mounted his stallion. His coachman stood worriedly by his side, wringing his hands. “I assure you, I will not fly off the horse on my way to the countryside.”
“That is not why I am concerned, Mr. Cooper. It might be dangerous traveling alone like this. Especially if night falls when you are returning.”
“Don’t worry. I have quite the knack for staying out of trouble.” He stroked the horse’s neck, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt. “I know you are unused to seeing me travel on my own, but I will return safely.”
The coachman did not seem convinced. He glanced anxiously at the waiting carriage just a short distance away. “Why, may I ask, have you changed your mind so suddenly?”
“It is a great way of clearing your mind, do you not think?” Jerome looked up at the sky, watching large fluffy clowds drift before his eyes. “It is getting late already. I should have left before dawn was over.”
“Very well, Mr. Cooper.” The coachman stepped back rather reluctantly. Jerome decided to feel honored by his worry. “Please travel safely.”
All Jerome did in response was lift a hand to his temple in a half-hearted salute before he galloped away. The pounding of the hooves against the driveway was enough to calm him, but as he set out down the road and headed in the direction of his destination, that serenity dissipated. In its place came a strong troublesome feeling instead.
Has Louisa awoken yet?
Jerome could picture her tossing in bed, snoring softly. He hoped she had slept well last night, that nothing had troubled her throughout the night. Even though he was eager to distance himself from her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would be all right without him.
Of course she will be. It is clear she does not care for my presence at all.
That realization still rubbed him raw. Jerome didn’t want to think about it. Not about his confession about his past, not about his apology, not about the way she had wiped her tears and then faced him with a stoic expression. It only made him want to cling to the hope that she cared for him, at least a little bit, but she’d also made it clear last night that that wasn’t the case. She didn’t care for him in the slightest and it was time Jerome learned to keep his distance—even if she was his wife.
Within an hour, the London hub fell away behind him and the dusty road ahead already began to clear his mind. Wind whipped through his hair, billowing through his clothes. He knew it might be best not to tire the horse so quickly considering the trip ahead of him, but the steed he rode was a strong one. He should be able to handle Jerome’s need to forget everything through this liberating ride.
Jerome arrived at Belfour Manor by the time the sun was high in the sky. Its rays bore h
eavily on Jerome, bringing dots of sweat to his brow. Footmen rushed to the fore the moment he arrived on the land and carted Jerome’s tired horse away while he was led to the front door by the butler. The Marquess of Morefield was waiting for him in his study with a broad grin and two glasses of brandy already prepared.
Jerome instantly relaxed. The marquess was an amiable man who didn’t care about status as much as other noblemen. Which was why doing business with him had always been so easy and comfortable. It had been some time since they had last seen each other, so they spent the first half hour catching up on everything that had been going on. Current events, business trends, personal life. Try as he might, Jerome could not steer the conversation away from his recent nuptials, but the marquess seemed to have picked up on his reluctance to speak about his wife and so he didn’t delve too deeply.
The next few hours were spent working through the details of a future trade relationship with an overseas spice and tea supplier—a venture that Jerome was hoping to grow into. With the marquess’s aid, he was sure to grow his current business to a force to be reckoned with, even more so than it already was.
By the time their meeting was over, Jerome felt confident, refreshed, and ready to take on anything that came his way. It had been a while since he’d last felt this sort of fervor, driven by his need to be the best in everything he did. He clung to the drunken feeling it gave him. But it didn’t last forever, and before he knew it, as he was leaving the manor, his mind went back to Louisa—and he was so lost in those thoughts that he didn’t notice the people following him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The nightmare that night came with a sudden force Louisa was unprepared for. She didn’t know until then that she’d grown used to it. Despite the horror, despite the fear and the desperate cry for help that was always lodged in the back of her throat, Louisa was prepared. Even though she would chase it away with laudanum on her tongue, when it came, she was never surprised.
Tonight, her nightmare took hold of her once again, and she had nothing to ward it off. She knew she was asleep when she saw her uncle’s face. His usual sneer and his overconfident eyes were too much to bear this time. When he reached out to her, Louisa told herself that she only needed to take a step back. Or to pull herself from this horrible dream. But she remained rigid, taken by her icy fear. She felt his fingers brush her upper arm, drifting up to grasp the back of her neck in a tender hold. Much like how Jerome had when they’d kissed. Except this time, Louisa felt bile rise in her throat.
“You took your time, Louisa,” Uncle Benjamin said.
Louisa shook her head. She tried to close her eyes but couldn’t. She tried to look away, but found her gaze glued to his face. At her sides, her fingers itched for the vial of laudanum hidden with her dress, but she somehow knew that it would only make her nausea worse.
So all she could do was stand there with only one name on the tip of her tongue, whispering through her mind. Jerome.
She needed his touch. She needed him to help her out of his terrible state. In the time they’d been together, the nightmares had faded to nothing—especially since the night he’d lain beside her.
Uncle Benjamin’s pinky finger grazed her cheek, making her shudder. He noticed it, and his smile seemed to grow wider. Tilting his head to the side, he said, “You won’t tell anyone, will you, Louisa?”
And then she woke up.
She wasn’t screaming this time, but she was soaked in her sweat, her hair matted to her face. She ran a shaky hand over her face, trying to steady herself. Desperately, Louisa dragged her unsteady limbs out of the bed, rushing over to the vanity table. She searched through the drawers as if her life depended on it, even as tears came to her eyes.
“What are you doing, Louisa?” she murmured. Louisa straightened, taking a step away from the vanity table. The moonlight streaming through the windowpanes glowed brightly behind her, but she couldn’t see her features in the mirror—and was glad for it. She didn’t want to see the face of the woman eager to search for a vial of laudanum that wasn’t there.
Louisa swallowed harshly. She took a few more steps back. The back of her knee bumped into the hassock by her bed and she sank onto it with a breath of defeat. She was still shaking from the remnants of her nightmare, the memory of it lingering on the fringes of her mind. She wished Jerome was here. With all her heart, with all her being, she wished he was by her side and holding her hand. He was far better than the laudanum she used to take. When she was with him, she felt at ease.
Since when did I become so reliant on him?
Louisa tried to take in a steadying breath that echoed throughout the room. There was little hope for sleep now and she looked longingly at the door, wondering if he had returned. Hannah had informed her earlier of his departure at dawn and Louisa had been thinking about him all day as a result. Wondering where he’d gone, why he hadn’t said anything to her. And not wanting to realize the fact that she was the reason he was maintaining his distance.
With a sigh, Louisa buried her face in her hands. “You are quite foolish sometimes, Louisa,” she said to herself.
A walk. That was what she needed. A quiet walk through the lonely hallways would calm her frazzled nerves, and perhaps then she would be able to sleep well without him here. She hoped.
Lighting a candle as quickly as she could, she slipped out of her room. Her steps were silent against the auburn carpet, the candlelight flickering with every breath she took. Try as she might, Louisa couldn’t shed the thought of Jerome, but she supposed that was better than thinking about her uncle.
“Mr. Cooper!”
Louisa’s heart leaped into her throat. Is that the butler?
Louisa took off running, not caring that her candle went out as a result. She moved out of pure instinct, her hair flying out behind her. She disposed of her candlestick on an end table as she rushed by, racing towards the grand staircase. When she arrived, what she saw there made her heart stop.
Jerome was being held up by two footmen, Samson standing before them. Maids were rushing from the foyer on Samson’s command, but Louisa didn’t hear a word he said. Her hair fell like waves around her shoulders as she reached out to the banister, her legs already growing weak.
“What happened?” she whispered.
No one heard her. The footmen were carrying Jerome to the steps, Jerome’s legs wobbling beneath him. He was trying to walk, but his head was lolling from side to side. It was the blood she saw lining his face that had her trembling. She staggered forward, gripping the banister so tightly her hand went numb.
“What happened?” she repeated, much louder this time. But they still didn’t hear her. Samson didn’t even notice her presence until they were halfway up the staircase.
“My Lady!”
Louisa swallowed past her suddenly dry tongue. She tried to pull herself to her full height, to steady herself. But when she saw how much blood was running down Jerome’s temple, dripping from his chin, she nearly lost her voice. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. “How did this happen?”
“We are unsure, my Lady,” Samson responded quickly. “He arrived a short while ago, slung atop his horse. I am not sure how he managed to return home in his condition. I have already sent for the physician.”
She nodded, trying to pull herself together. Her mind was racing and yet was so utterly blank that she didn’t know what to do. With a shaking finger, she pointed up the staircase. “Bring him to his bedchamber. Quickly.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
On her command, the footmen resumed their task. Jerome managed to follow along with their footsteps, so she knew he was at least half-conscious. But all she could see was the blood, stark against his ashen skin. She hurried behind them, trying to calm her beating heart.
He’ll be all right. He’ll be fine. It is not as bad as it appears.
But no matter how many times she told herself that, she couldn’t stop her nerves f
rom growing out of control. She bit down on her bottom lip, as if that would keep her increasing worry inside as she followed them to Jerome’s bedchamber. She slipped in behind the footmen, remaining by the door as if she were an outsider, and watched as they laid him gently on the bed. Jerome groaned a little, his eyes fluttering.
Samson turned to face her. If he was worried about his master, he didn’t show it. He was the epitome of calm assuredness as he bowed and said, “I will have the physician brought to his bedchamber the moment he arrives, my Lady.”
“Thank you.” The words didn’t sound like they came from her, but Samson bowed again nonetheless before he and the footmen left the room after lighting the candles by the bed.
The silence was deafening. Louisa stayed by the door, gripping the skirt of her nightdress. She watched the steady rise and fall of Jerome’s chest, straining her ears to hear his breathing. The blood on his temple was too obvious to ignore, even though she wanted nothing more than to look away from it.
