A distant part of his brain heard the words, and it squeezed his heart in pain, but at the same time he couldn’t have stopped himself. Still Louisa didn’t speak. She only stared, her eyes wide, her hand still pressed to her chest in defense.
“If you didn’t think about the consequences of your action, then what did you think of?” Still no answer. “Then what, Louisa?” he nearly shouted.
His mind flew like a runaway carriage, careening from one thought to the next, unable to make sense of anything, and yet he hurt. He ached with the hurt of so many things. He ached with love for Louisa, love that he’d known would one day endanger him and now he knew he’d been right. She had no business prying into affairs he’d worked so hard to keep quiet, to keep at bay. He ached with the knowledge that his father may have been murdered. He ached and hurt, and no matter what, he must force that hurt onto someone else. It was the only way he could survive.
His words dripped with acid, and he flung them at her, hoping to cause her as much pain as she’d caused him.
“Then what, Louisa?” he repeated when she didn’t answer yet again. When she continued to stand there, her chest moving with each shallow breath, her eyes locked on his even as he watched something inside of her build and grow until he knew it would consume her in a deafening crescendo. But even though he saw it coming, he prodded it until it did.
“Why would you—”
“Because I wanted you to love me.” She threw the words at him so swiftly he didn’t have time to avoid them.
They broke through him, splintering into a thousand shards that crumbled to his feet.
They each stood there in stunned silence, only the sounds of their harsh breathing permeating the room. Her proclamation echoed in his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her he already loved her. But she’d proven him right.
Love was too dangerous.
So instead, he left, brushing past her without a single word. He didn’t stop in the corridor. He continued until his feet hit the pavement outside and then kept going. He didn’t know where he was headed, and he didn’t care. He only had to get away from her and the pain and the hurt and the loss of a love he’d only begun to know.
* * *
She woke to a hand on her shoulder, shaking her far more violently than was really necessary.
She became aware of the cramp in her neck, the aches along her hips, and she knew she was awake but refused to open her eyes. She gave herself that one moment to collect her thoughts, reestablishing herself to where she was and what had happened.
Sebastian had left.
And he hadn’t come home.
Her eyes flew open, and she sat up, pushing herself upright with her hands along the back of the sofa and the seat cushions.
Nearly toppling Eliza onto the floor.
“Sebastian!” Louisa cried as she awoke only to grab for her sister moments later as she nearly met the floor.
“Good heavens, Louisa,” Eliza exclaimed, righting herself on the sofa. “Is that how you always wake up?”
“I thought you were Sebastian.” She collapsed back on the sofa, her neck protesting the return to her uncomfortable sleeping position, but she didn’t have the strength to move.
“I thought as much.” Eliza studied her reclined pose for several beats. “Is this normally what you wear to bed?”
Louisa was still dressed in her gown from the previous day. When Sebastian had stormed out, she hadn’t the energy with which to move, let alone dress for bed. She’d dismissed all of Williams’ attempts to help her into a night-rail, and instead had come here, to her quiet little room on the south end of the house. She collapsed on the sofa where Sebastian had so recently made love to her and willed her heart to keep beating.
He was upset with her, that was all. Surely he would get over it in due time. Surely he would realize what gift she had given him, the freedom of knowing what had really happened to his father.
But no matter how she tried to reassure herself, she couldn’t stop the feeling that she’d ruined this, too. She’d overstepped somehow, once more falling victim to her own impulsiveness. She could see that now. It wasn’t her place to pry into Sebastian’s past, especially into a subject so precious and personal.
Had she really been so desperate to get him to love her that she’d violated his privacy like that?
She groaned and threw a hand over her eyes, blocking out the sunlight that flooded the room.
“Louisa.” Eliza nudged her when she didn’t answer. “You must dress and break your fast.”
Louisa peeked out from under her arm. “I will do no such thing.” She put her arm back only to move it again a second later. “What are you doing here?”
Eliza reached over and carefully slipped off Louisa’s hat, which apparently was still pinned to her sister’s head. The morning sun caught the facets of the stone in the hatpin, and she jerked it loose from Eliza’s grip, holding it close to her chest tightly.
Eliza raised a questioning brow but otherwise did not comment. “Do you know Sebastian asked me the same question when I woke him from where he slumbered on the sofa in our drawing room this morning?” She set aside the hat. “I must say you both look awful. How bad of a row was it?”
Louisa replaced her arm across her face. “Oh, Eliza, it’s terrible.”
Eliza picked up Louisa’s arm to peer underneath it. “Nothing is ever that terrible, little sister.”
She dropped her arm back into place as the sofa shifted. Eliza must have stood, which had Louisa removing her arm to watch her sister. A teacart stood in the middle of the room, loaded with a pot and all the trimmings, including Cook’s decadent cinnamon scones. Louisa sat up, her stomach letting out a furious grumble.
She pressed her hand that still held the hatpin to her stomach as if willing it to stop. Eliza poured for both of them, handing Louisa her cup before taking a seat next to her.
The first sip of warm liquid poured through Louisa like a revitalizing elixir, and inch by inch, she came back to life. While it was restorative, she wasn’t entirely certain she wished to be so aware of her surroundings.
“Oh, it was awful, Eliza. I’m afraid I’ve done something terrible.”
Eliza reached out a hand and patted Louisa’s knee. “Tell me what’s happened, and I will tell you how the world will not end.”
“I discovered Sebastian’s father did not kill himself but rather might have been murdered by his wife’s lover.”
Eliza spat tea, hurrying to cover her nose and mouth as she coughed violently.
“Louisa!” she cried when she was able to. “What are you talking about?”
Eliza was the most conservative of her sisters, and witnessing her reaction helped Louisa to understand just what a grave mistake she’d made.
But what choice did she have? Was she to allow Sebastian to carry on with a life that was only a fraction of what it should have been? Was she supposed to allow him to live with a lie of his mother’s construction?
“Sebastian’s father was killed by his wife’s lover. I only discovered the truth yesterday when I found the former duchess’s lady’s maid. She was in the house that night and overheard what happened. She only suspects it’s the lover, though. She was ordered below stairs with the rest of the servants and can only surmise what happened.” Louisa spoke to the tea she swirled in her cup, unable to meet her sister’s gaze. “Do you know the lady’s maid was Sebastian’s father’s lover?” She shook her head. “I had no idea these affairs could be quite so complicated.”
Eliza still did not speak, and Louisa looked up to find her sister staring.
She patted her knee now. “It’s quite all right, Eliza. I assure you I have not lost my wits. I’m sure Mrs. Shaw—that’s the lady’s maid although she’s a housekeeper now—would be happy to discuss it with you as well.”
Eliza shook her head. “Louisa, I had no idea…” Her voice drifted off as she considered her sister.
Louisa nodded and took a
sip of her tea. “I didn’t either.” She gestured with her teacup. “Was…was Sebastian—” She had to lick her lips. “Well, was he all right this morning?”
Eliza set down her cup in the saucer on her lap. “I suspect he is the victim of a night of thorough drinking but other than that, I am sure he should be fine. He and Dax are teaching George how to tie a cravat as we speak. I’m sure that’s helping his current state immensely.” Eliza’s smile was devilish.
Louisa’s stomach tightened at the mention of her small nephew. Would she ever carry Sebastian’s child, or had she ruined all chance of having a family of her own?
She forced a smile. “Isn’t George a little young for such things?”
“He seems fascinated by the color and the fabric, I assume. He’s mesmerized by the things.” Eliza studied her again, and Louisa grew uncomfortable under such attention. “Louisa, you are saying Sebastian’s father was murdered. You know that, don’t you?”
Louisa gave a slow nod. “I’m very well aware of such things. It’s just that—” She set aside her tea and turned on the sofa so she could fully face her sister. “His mother, a thoroughly unpleasant woman I assure you, said the strangest things to me about that night, the night his father died. I was just so certain there was something unusual about what she said. I had no choice, Eliza. I had to find the truth of it.”
Eliza shook her head as she set aside her own tea. When she turned back, she took Louisa’s hands into her own.
“Louisa, my dear, why is it that you always feel so compelled to rectify a situation? Why must you always try to help people? When are you ever going to learn to do something for yourself and leave others to their own means?”
A shadow passed over her mind then as her sister’s words tumbled through it, Sebastian’s accusation ringing in her ears. The question she must ask perched on the edge of her lips. She had only to ask it, and she would know. But she just couldn’t. She couldn’t revisit her own greatest mistake.
But was Sebastian right? Was she too fixated on correcting the wrongs of the past that she failed to see the implications they would have on the present?
She searched her sister’s eyes. If anyone were strong enough to endure a visit to such painful memories, it was Eliza, and it was past time for Louisa to start recognizing her own flaws.
“Eliza, I brought the influenza into the house that killed our mother.”
Eliza’s brow wrinkled. “No, you didn’t.”
The words were spoken so matter-of-factly Louisa thought she misheard.
“No, Eliza, I’m speaking truth. It was me. I visited my friend Mary, you remember her, the girl with the brown pigtails, after Mother forbid us to leave the house. I brought the sickness back with me.”
Eliza shook her head, her expression clear. “No, you didn’t, Louisa.”
Louisa pulled her hands free of Eliza’s grip. “What are you talking about? I went to see Mary’s dolls, and someone in her family must have been sick, and I caught it and brought it back to Mother. I killed her, Eliza.” Her voice broke on the last words. She’d never spoken them before to one of her sisters, and fear and the possibility of recriminations clawed at her throat.
Eliza pursed her lips in a frown. “Louisa, listen to me. You did not bring the influenza to the house. The scullery maid did. Lillian. You remember her. She was the gardener’s daughter. She had a beau in the village and defied Mother’s orders to stay away from there. Mother was already ill when you traipsed off to see those dolls.”
Louisa could do nothing but blink for several seconds. “How do you know that?”
Eliza’s expression turned pained. “You talked about those dolls endlessly after you visited Mary. I can remember precisely when you discovered them because Father had just given me a new set of charcoals, and all you did was chatter about those dolls and I wanted some peace to draw. Lud, you were an annoying child.” Her smile was mischievous as her gaze seemed to recall a scene in her mind from their childhood.
Louisa still couldn’t understand it. “The scullery maid brought the disease into the house?”
Eliza nodded. “Yes. Father was furious and would have dismissed her right then, but Mother said they couldn’t turn her out while she was ill.” Her sister shook her head. “Little did she know that was it. Mother caused her own death because of her simple human kindness.” Eliza sat forward then, snatching Louisa’s hands back into hers. “We had always wondered what you did and didn’t remember from that time, Louisa. You’ve always been such a…well, you’re always just so happy. No one is ever that happy.” She squeezed Louisa’s hands. “Please tell me what you remember.”
Louisa shook her head. None of this could be true. It just couldn’t. She was the one who disobeyed. She was the one who went down the lane. She was the one who—
“Louisa.” Eliza’s voice was stern, pulling her from her litany of sins. “Louisa, you stayed with Mother while she died, don’t you remember? You were so very brave. Because of you, Mother didn’t die alone.”
The world which until that moment had somehow been canted on its axis righted itself, and Louisa saw things for what they really were.
“I didn’t kill our mother.” She spoke the words carefully as if by speaking them they might evaporate away the truth.
Eliza’s smile was gentle. “Yes, Louisa. It wasn’t you. You are the savior. You saved all of us.”
Louisa’s body flooded with heat, a weight lifting from her shoulders she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. But in its place swept the reality she now faced, and her shoulders slumped.
Eliza seemed to sense it and pulled Louisa into her arms.
“It will be okay, my little sister,” Eliza whispered. “I promise you.”
Louisa shook her head against Eliza’s shoulder. “How can you say that? I went in search of his father’s killer without telling him. How could I have been so stupid?”
“You weren’t stupid,” her sister said. “You were in love.” She eased Louisa back and met her eye as she said, “And wouldn’t you say Sebastian was guilty of the same when he asked me about the night Mother died?”
It was as if a bucket of water had been tossed on the fire that burned inside of her, and with utter clarity, she understood. She had done it out of love. It might not have been right. Perhaps she should have gone about it differently, but her reasons for doing it were the right ones.
Now she had to convince Sebastian of it.
Eliza eased her back to a sitting position.
“The Kittridge ball is tonight, and you know what that means. It’s time to get you ready.” She hoisted Louisa to her feet, picking up their discarded tea things.
“I’m not sure I’m fit for a ball,” Louisa muttered.
“Would you rather have all of the ton gossiping about your absence?”
Louisa cringed at just the thought, twisting the hatpin in her hands.
Eliza set the cups and their saucers down on the teacart and paused, casting her gaze about the room.
“Did you do this?” she asked, gesturing to the space around them.
Louisa looked about the room as if seeing it for the first time. The drapes had been rehung, and their soft hues of blues went well with the muted tones of the wallpaper, giving the space a feeling of being larger than it actually was. The rest of the furniture had returned as well, and the soft warm tones of wood gave much-needed highlights to the space. She still had the walls to fill, but she was in no rush. She wanted to select pieces that spoke to her instead of simply hanging those that looked nice.
“I did,” she finally said, feeling a sense of completeness she didn’t know she’d been searching for.
Eliza gave a sound of affirmation. “I should have you look at some of the drawing rooms at Ashbourne Manor. There are so many of them, and they are so sad and worn. I just don’t know what to do with them.” She looped her arm through Louisa’s. “Come now. A bath is just the thing for you.”
Chapter 16
> Sebastian stood in front of the Bannerbridge home cursing the sun.
He wished the weather had the respect to match his inner turmoil. A good dose of rain and some thick gray clouds were just what he wanted right then, but it was not meant to be. The sun shone relentlessly down on him, warming his back and forcing him to rouse from the fog that still remained of his ill-advised night of drinking.
He had thought scotch would be just the thing to rid his mind of torturous thoughts, but it only served to make him ache with regret and want. Louisa’s last volley rang over and over again in his mind.
Because I wanted you to love me.
Could he have stopped her from her inquiries if he had only told her how he felt? Could he right now be spending a lazy day in bed with his wife? Telling her how much he loved her, how much he looked forward to their long life together?
Instead he stood on the pavement in front of a near stranger’s home, willing his head to stop throbbing while the sun lit a fire on his shoulders.
God, he had to get this over with.
He took the stairs carefully, all too aware of just how much scotch he’d drunk. Dax had been all too generous a host and had only stopped Sebastian when it was clear any more alcohol would have no more effect and sleep was the only thing left.
He tugged now at his clothes, aware of just how long he’d been in them. He ran a finger around his collar, the skin their chafed and raw. It only served to add to his annoyance.
The door was answered promptly, and at his card, the butler seemed not at all surprised.
“Should you like to see his lordship or is it Mrs. Shaw you seek?” the butler intoned ponderously.
The question startled Sebastian. “It is Mrs. Shaw I should like to speak with, but I will not disrespect the earl by going to his housekeeper directly.”
The butler gave a nod. “His lordship and the countess left early this morning for the country, Your Grace. Her ladyship advised me to admit you should you seek Mrs. Shaw’s audience.”
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