She was the Viking queen, robust and strong and beautiful.
Robust…
“Louisa, you say you brought the illness into your house.” He licked his lips, realizing he was about to give himself away. “Only I know you didn’t fall ill from it.”
Her eyes became guarded, and she considered him carefully. “How do you know that?”
He’d never felt nerves the way he did now. “I asked Eliza why those women at the wedding breakfast might cause you to become so upset.”
Her eyes widened at his revelation, and he felt a stab of guilt over his treachery. But then her features softened, and a small smile came to her lips.
“I have you so worried over me, do I? I hope Eliza was able to soothe your concerns.”
“Not at all.” He pulled his hands from hers and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Louisa, you did not become ill. So how then can you blame yourself for your mother’s death?”
Her smile faded as uncertainty took over her face.
“But I must have, Sebastian. I must have. It’s the only way…” Her voice trailed off, but she continued to search his face.
“Louisa, do you think you may have been wrong? Do you think you’ve blamed yourself this whole time for something you didn’t do?”
Her eyes narrowed, but then she shook her head.
“No, it’s the only explanation, and I will not dredge up poor memories for my sisters by asking them for the truth. I just couldn’t do it, Sebastian.” Her voice was strong with her determination, and he knew he would not win.
“Then let’s ready ourselves for supper,” he said as it was the only thing he could have said.
Chapter 13
She tried not to let her sudden suspicions cloud the happiness she’d fallen into, but it was difficult, especially when an invitation to tea from her mother-in-law arrived the next week.
She seemed to pass through the house like a ghost, not quite there and yet entirely haunting herself. The furniture she’d sent out to be reupholstered began to return in a steady stream that kept her occupied, and she willed her thoughts to be quiet. Except they wouldn’t listen to her.
Her sister’s confession of loving a man she couldn’t have, exposing her lifelong secret to the husband she’d forced into marriage, and worst of all, she found herself in love with that husband.
How had it happened?
She’d accepted the fate of a loveless marriage as she’d never once imagined a life with love. When Sebastian had declared they’d live separate existences, she was only too quick to understand. After all, she’d never thought beyond her sisters to herself, and she had no formed idea of her life for him to destroy with his proclamation.
But then that night when she’d come to apologize, something had changed. Something was different.
She worried now it was something she’d done, something she’d said to cause him to break the oath he’d made to himself. But honestly, it was an oath meant to be broken.
How could he expect to live a life without love?
Couldn’t she say the same thing to herself?
As she passed through wallpapering crews and dodged footmen carrying freshly beaten rugs, she wasn’t sure how she’d missed it. This idea that one day she’d be gone from her sisters, and there would be someone else to care for but yet, she’d have so much time with the only person she’d failed to see this whole time.
Herself.
She existed in some kind of strange half state as she grappled with what to do about Johanna and her secret or her husband’s unfailing attentions toward her now.
And the fact that she loved him.
She loved him for going to her sister when he saw her hurting. She loved him for choosing her over his malicious mother. She loved him for his loyalty, for his caring, for his understanding. She loved him, and he could never love her.
This should be a time of happiness and euphoria, and that was why she clung to that precious feeling of fleeting contentment because she knew just how unreal it was.
Because Sebastian did not love her in return.
He cared for her, she was certain, but he always held himself just a little bit away from her, held back just a small part of himself. She could feel it between them, the space he so carefully guarded, even when he made love to her, held her, cradled her in his arms.
She could feel the love pour through her at his touch, but she could also feel something else, and it was this other thing that dominated her thoughts.
So when the invitation to tea arrived, she nearly swallowed her tongue. As it was, she made a very unladylike pronouncement.
“Oh God, no.”
They had taken to breaking their fast in the east drawing room as the breakfast room was currently having the floors redone. The light was magnificent here, and she wondered if they would ever remove themselves to the breakfast room again.
They took their meal at a small table nestled into the alcove of a large bay window, and the sun struck the correspondence Milton had brought with enough light to ensure she did not misread it.
“Has someone died?” Sebastian asked around the rim of his teacup as he’d been about to take a drink.
“Your mother has invited me to tea.”
He swallowed and said, “Well, if someone hasn’t died yet, they surely will soon.”
She tossed him a frown. “That person is likely to be me.”
“I hardly think so.” He stood and set aside his napkin. “It will surely be my mother after you commit matricide over crumpets.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I am off. Dax is waiting.”
She snatched his arm before he could slip off. “Good luck with the vote today.” Something passed over his eyes that resembled confusion, and she smiled. “Eliza told me the vote is today. Dax feels as though you have enough support to get the bill passed. Do you really think so?”
“We should, yes.” He answered the question as though he was surprised she’d asked it.
Not for the first time, she wondered just how much damage his parents’ marriage had wrought on him. She smiled and patted his arm. “Good luck then. I’ll see you this evening.”
She kept her tone light, not wishing to frighten him anymore and hoping to keep her heart from breaking into a million tiny pieces.
She arrived at his mother’s home promptly at the time specified as there was certainly no need to arrive early. She’d worn her best muslin gown in a shade of green Jo always said set off the warmth in her eyes. Louisa didn’t know why she felt compelled to impress this woman. It wasn’t as if the viscountess had earned Louisa’s respect. Far from it. As she stepped through the front door, she very much worried Sebastian was right. She had never contemplated matricide, but suddenly, it seemed very appealing.
The butler showed her into a drawing room she hadn’t seen before, but she was struck by the dull wallpaper and worn furnishings. It was as though she’d stepped into Waverly House on the day of her wedding. It became suddenly clear what had happened to the Waverly home, and Louisa’s nerves grew even more taut than they already were.
“Louisa, child, so good of you to come on such short notice.”
Viscountess Raynham’s voice was melodic as she sailed into the room, her arms spread as though she planned to embrace Louisa.
Louisa stood next to the table that had been laid for tea and kept her arms tightly at her side, placing the chair between herself and the viscountess.
“Yes, of course,” Louisa said with a small curtsy as was proper.
Suspicion flared its way up her arms as she took in the viscountess’s unusually open expression. The woman wore a gown of faded lavender that had clearly been turned up at the hem and cuffs to hide wear, and strings of paste jewels hung at her neck, wrists, and ears. She very much matched the worn elegance of her home, and suddenly Louisa didn’t feel quite so small.
She took the seat the viscountess offered and waited for the woman to pour.
“I thought perhaps we should get to know each ot
her now that you’ve married my dear son.”
“I told you that night at dinner that I will not pretend you were a doting mother to Sebastian.” She kept her tone polite yet cool.
The viscountess didn’t seem to notice. “Yes, well, people do change, and it would be suggested that we should make a good connection as we may be of use to one another in the future.”
Louisa did not care for the connotations such a statement held. As she was now a duchess, Louisa was well aware of the power she held, socially speaking, and she was not so obtuse as to forget the viscountess had once been a duchess, too. Did the woman regret the loss of her social standing? Did she wish to use Louisa to regain some kind of control?
She sipped at her tea but did not take a single small sandwich onto her plate. “If you do not mind, I’d like to understand the true reason why you asked me here today.”
The older woman’s eyes flashed over the teapot. “Why, it’s just as I’ve said. To get to know one another better. I must say I was quite surprised when I heard Sebastian was to take a wife.”
“Surprised? Shouldn’t you be elated that your son found a match?” Louisa watched her carefully, noting the way the teapot trembled ever so slightly at Louisa’s reply.
“Well, you know how these things are. Time gets away from us, doesn’t it? I hadn’t realized just how grown up my son had become. He’s been through a lot, you understand.”
A prickle of suspicion made its way to the back of Louisa’s neck, and she wanted to reach up and scratch at it.
“Yes, I am aware.”
The viscountess glanced abruptly upward to sweep her eyes across Louisa’s face, but she quickly returned her attention to the cucumber sandwiches as if nothing were amiss.
“I had worried that his father’s death would adversely affect him. I mean, they were so close and all.”
“I should think it would be assumed that one’s father’s death would influence the rest of one’s life. I’ve lost both of my parents, you see, and I can say it does leave one changed.”
The viscountess waved a hand as though to brush off Louisa’s statement.
“Yes, but Sebastian’s father died so tragically. I’m sure he’s spoken of it.” The viscountess glanced at Louisa from the side of her eye as she sipped at her tea.
Louisa set her teacup down with a clatter. “No, actually. Sebastian never mentioned it.”
The woman wanted something from Louisa, and she would be damned if she’d give it away.
The viscountess set down her tea, her gaze suddenly riveted to Louisa.
“Is that so? Well, I hardly can believe it. I was so sure the experience must have left a scar.”
Louisa shook her head and poked at a caramel biscuit. “No, I’m afraid he hasn’t. Sebastian is rather close-lipped, as you can imagine.”
This seemed to placate the woman as her eyes lost the roundness of surprise.
“Well, that is certainly true. I suppose I was merely concerned for his well-being.”
That was an outright lie.
“I suppose you were,” Louisa said.
The viscountess waved a hand. “It’s just that men are such strange creatures. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Louisa tilted her head coquettishly. “Oh, I don’t find them all that strange. They are quite predictable beings.”
This seemed to finally pierce whatever charade the viscountess was attempting for she abandoned her dainty perusal of the almond pralines to face Louisa squarely.
“Well, it’s just that men do not have anyone in which they naturally confide. At least we have our lady’s maids, don’t you agree?”
Louisa’s mind flitted to Williams, but while she understood what the viscountess meant, Louisa would not give anything away.
“I suppose one could. But that would be highly indiscreet. My mother always used to say one does not air one’s dirty laundry on the front stoop. I would think she could agree with me on this.”
The viscountess’s mouth pinched ever so slightly. “Well, be that as it may, I had only a great concern for you settling into marriage with my son when I know he is ever so wounded from what’s happened. You cannot fault me for caring.”
Louisa could very well fault the woman for many things. Caring was not one of them.
“No, I suppose one cannot.” Louisa finished her tea and carefully placed the cup back into the saucer. “I’m so very glad I was able to come today. I’m sorry I must make my visit so short. Duty calls, as I’m sure you understand.”
The viscountess made no move to show her guest out as she sipped her tea. Her eyes became hooded as she regarded Louisa across the table.
“I think you should know I had nothing to do with it. With what happened to Victor. He made his own choices.”
Louisa stilled, her back stiffening. Victor must be Sebastian’s father. She’d never pressed Sebastian for his father’s given name, but the way the viscountess spoke it with such fervor suggested Louisa was right. “I never accused you of having a role in the matter, did I? You’re awfully quick to defend yourself from a slight that was not presented.”
The older woman sucked in a breath at Louisa’s statement, but it was low and harsh and could have been mistaken for a wheeze. Now the viscountess stood.
“Be that as it may, I should hope you understand you are free to talk to me about anything concerning my son. I imagine it’s difficult being married to such a man. His father was the same way. So closed off and cold. Just know that you always have an ally with me.” Her smile didn’t reach the corners of her mouth, and her crooked teeth made Louisa nauseous.
Louisa didn’t wait for her hostess to walk her to the door. She stepped outside the bounds of propriety and stood, discarding her napkin next to her place setting on the small table, preparing herself to leave.
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m sorry to not understand, but marriage to Sebastian is the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She gave a shrug as if to apologize again. “Good day, my lady.” She gave a small bow and left before the viscountess could regain her wits.
* * *
He was getting used to coming home to her.
He wasn’t surprised to find her in the little room she’d claimed as her own, standing by the tall windows still bare of drapery, the setting sun illuminating her like some kind of cherubic entity. He stood in the doorway for several moments, letting time slip by them simply for the pleasure of watching her unawares.
She held her arms crossed over her stomach, her fingers still on either elbow. Her gaze studied something beyond the reach of his, and he wondered what so captured her attention. Was it the tops of the trees in the park or the heraldic spires of the palace beyond?
He had never thought to have such interest in another person, believing it safer to keep himself tucked away from human relationships. But he was finding it wasn’t like that. Instead it was more like a steaming bath one expected to scald only to slip beneath its tantalizing surface to find it warm, coaxing, and comforting. That’s what it was like to be with Louisa. That’s what it was like to fall in love with her.
When she’d asked him that morning about the vote, he’d been startled she’d even known it was that day. He hadn’t thought to tell her, but then, he’d thought she wouldn’t be interested. He was beginning to understand he held a great deal of misconceptions about marriage, and Louisa held no qualms in showing him wrong. She was the perfect tutor for his icy heart, and he no longer feared what was to come.
Not that he was ready to declare his love from those very spires she viewed. It was more a shifting of something within him that allowed him to think of another possibility, another existence. One that included Louisa next to him for the rest of his days.
A small line appeared between her brows that had him straightening from his spot beside the door.
It wasn’t the spires she studied then, but rather her own thoughts. They were likely troublesome as he’d not forgotten the unexpected inv
itation to tea his mother had sent that morning.
He gave no greeting but simply entered the room to take his place beside her, slipping his arms around her until he could set his chin atop her head. She fit so perfectly in his arms, and the scent of orchids flooded his senses.
She did not start when he touched her, and he wondered if she’d known he was there all along.
“A guinea for your thoughts.”
He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “If I accepted it, you would have overpaid.”
“It’s worth the price.”
She sighed, relaxing into his arms. “I’m afraid it’s nothing of interest. I simply find your mother vexing.”
His gut tightened at the mention of his mother. “Tea was unpleasant, I take it?”
She hesitated for a moment as if mulling over her words. “It wasn’t that it she was unpleasant. Although I would not call her affable. It was more that she asked the oddest questions.”
“Questions?”
She slipped her hands along his arms as he held her. “She seemed awfully interested in knowing what you had told me about your father’s death.”
The tension in his gut grew to a roil. “And what did you say?”
She turned in his arms until she could look up at him. “I told her very little. It’s not for her to know what lies between us.”
The way she spoke made it sound as if there should be no question of what she would say to his mother. Being the receiver of such abject loyalty was new to Sebastian, and it unsettled him for a moment.
She played with the lapels of his jacket absently as she said, “Do you think it bothers her? The choice your father made?”
As always the shadow of his father’s death loomed over him, but now it no longer held the bite it once did.
“I don’t know. It never seemed as though my mother cared for my father in the least. I’m not sure why his death would cause her concern. Perhaps it was the potential for scandal it held.”
Louisa’s eyes were somber when she looked up. “That’s rather selfish of her.”
“She’s rather a selfish woman.”
The Duke and the Lady Page 17
