Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“My mother is…is otherwise detained. She will be staying with friends tonight and will return tomorrow.”
David’s heart leapt, he was certain Louisa could see it in his face.
Lady Jarrold was not here – she had gone to stay with friends. Why? Was she so displeased to find him as the Archduke who had secured lodgings with her family that she had disappeared?
But that made no sense – why on earth would she just leave her daughter here?
Hope, something that David had attempted to force down the moment he had decided on this reckless plan, surged up in him, warming him, sparking across his entire body.
If Lady Jarrold was not here this evening, then that left only himself, and Louisa. The two of them. Alone, all evening.
An evening in which he would have all the time in the world to speak to Louisa, to explain to her just how painful it had been to leave her behind.
To tell her just what she meant to him.
“And do not call me Louisa. You have lost that right.”
David’s soaring heart thumped back down to earth, and he placed his knife and fork down as nausea rose in his stomach.
He was a long way from speaking with Louisa about his heart, of course. She had been hurt too much, after his proposal was rejected by her parents. She had learned to live without him, a thought that pained him and twisted his heart in equal measure.
No, it would not be easy to show her just how miserable he had been without her – certainly not something that one could explain over a dinner.
But all evening…
“What a shame my mother will be deprived of your company,” said Louisa in a biting tone.
David blanched. “Yes. Such a shame.”
Just when he had been starting to hope that she would start to warm up to him, that cold voice returned. Louisa was glaring at him as though he had mortally offended her – which, he supposed darkly, he probably had.
It was not going to be as easy as he had hoped to find a way to show her just what this meant to him. But he at least had the opportunity.
Louisa rose and David instinctively rose to his feet also.
“You are not waiting for dessert?”
A strange sort of flush tinged Louisa’s cheeks, though David could not understand why. It was an innocent enough question, was it not?
But the reason for her embarrassment was soon revealed as she dropped her gaze and said, “We do not have – there is no money for…dessert is only on Sundays.”
David looked away, compassion driving him to give Louisa a moment to compose herself.
“We do not have – there is no money for…dessert is only on Sundays.”
He had never thought the loss of Lord Jarrold would be so devastating for his wife and daughter. David was not privy to the details of the case, naturally; it was not the sort of conversation a gentleman permitted himself to be a part of.
Gossiping about one’s neighbours was all very well, his own father had always said, but only when it was for positive things. Marriages, births, that sort of things.
The income of one’s neighbours was certainly not something that anyone would have discussed in the Nelson household.
But the Jarrolds had lost the title, had they not? David could well remember when the news of Lord Jarrold’s death, and the removal of his title from the Jarrold line, had appeared in the newspapers – hard to find, English newspapers in Austria, but he had managed it.
The news had precipitated his plan, foolish as it now seemed, to come over to England. To find her. Louisa.
But he had expected the same luxury, the same lavish Jarrold lifestyle, even if it had been a little muted.
Their circumstances were far different from what he expected – and clearly, from what Louisa had been accustomed to.
“That is fine,” he said easily, hoping to calm her concerns. “I am full from that delicious meal in any case.”
Louisa’s gaze flashed over to him, disbelief clear in her eyes, and David felt a jolt in his lower back. She still had it, then; that unnerving way of knowing precisely when he was lying.
“Good evening,” she said softly, and stepped towards the door.
David met her at it before she was able to turn the handle. “You are surely not retiring to bed.”
“I see no reason not to,” Louisa replied stiffly.
“You are not going to spend a little time this evening in the drawing room?”
With me.
Those were the unspoken words David knew Louisa had also heard. Her eyes lifted to his, meeting them just for a moment before they dropped to the floor again. She was so close; just a foot away.
If he reached out, he could touch her. Create that connection he was so desperate to experience again. Why, he was sure she wanted it. If only he had the bravery to –
“I see little opportunity for entertainment nor pleasant conversation,” Louisa said quietly, still not looking at him.
If David had been an arrogant man, he would have taken offence at her words, but he heard them for what they truly were. A reflex; a desperate attempt to protect herself.
Why could she not see that he would not hurt her again?
“You are my hostess,” David pointed out quietly. “I would have thought your mother would expect you to entertain me, at least for an hour or so before we retire for the night.”
Louisa’s head snapped up. “Separately.”
“Of course,” said David, hoping to goodness that his cheeks had not pinked at the mere suggestion.
So, she was not thinking as innocently as she may hope he would believe, David thought with a rush of desire pouring through him. Separately? Precisely what did Lady Louisa Jarrold think of him?
Louisa bit her lip. David could see that she had taken his words, flippantly spoken, rather to heart.
And he was right. If he knew Lady Jarrold, and he certainly did, she would expect the utmost decorum and politeness from her daughter. Even if that meant sitting with the gentleman who had broken her heart just over a year ago.
David’s breath caught in his lungs as he waited for her response, as he watched the war of opinions wage across her face.
Then she sighed heavily, shoulders slumped. “Fine. One hour.”
Louisa opened the door without saying another word but David did not need her to; not know she had agreed to his request.
An hour. Well, that would be more than enough, would it not? How long did it take to convince the woman you were in love with that she should marry him?
The drawing room was cold. The fire had gone out, and David saw immediately that Louisa had little idea what to do with it.
“Ah,” she said, unnecessarily. “The fire.”
David looked for a bell over the fireplace. There did not appear to be one. “Would you like me to call Mrs. Lane?”
The storm outside, half gale, half thunderstorm, and with snow added, roared around the house, rattling the windows.
“I do not believe even you could shout that loudly,” said Louisa darkly.
David frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
A wry smile flashed across Louisa’s face but it was gone in an instant. “I meant…Mrs. Lane is likely gone home. She will not hear you from here. I suppose I will have to…”
Taking a hesitant step forward, Louisa picked up the poker and stood before the fire, as though inspiration would hit her if she waited long enough.
David forced down a snort of laughter. Spot the person in the room who grew up with servants around her, ready to perform any task whatsoever. Not know how to light a fire? It was ridiculous?
“Here,” he said gently, taking the poker from her hand. “‘Tis the least I can do.”
Louisa gave up the poker willingly, but did not remain close to him for an instant longer than necessary. As David stepped to the fire and knelt down to stack up some logs, she retreated to the sofa, curling her legs up under her.
Yes, retreated was the right word, David thought darkly as he reached in his waistcoat pocket for his tinderbox. Louisa was quick to retreat, quick to disbelieve. Quick to attempt to escape his presence at any given opportunity.
What could he say to her to show her just how much that hurt him?
“You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?” came the quiet voice behind him. “I would hate Mother to return to a smouldering ruin.”
David laughed. “Do not fear, I am not likely to do any such thing. There we go.”
The tinderbox sparked, and the kindling caught.
David felt the sudden flare of warmth wash over his hands as he placed another log on the fire.
Leaning back slightly on his haunches, he sat there for a minute, watching the kindling flare up, hotter and hotter under the larger logs. Finally, one of them caught.
“There,” he said quietly. “You’ll soon warm up, Louisa.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
Louisa’s voice was not harsh, but determined, and the same expression was visible on her face as David turned around.
He swallowed. Well, this was precisely what he wanted, wasn’t it? Well, perhaps not the freezing cold room, thought that was starting to warm a little as more logs caught. He certainly hadn’t expected Lady Jarrold to be completely absent from the house; he had hoped merely for a deserted room.
But this was what he had come for. Louisa, alone. Able to listen to him, even if she was not willing.
“Fine. One hour.”
Well, how many of those sixty minutes had he wasted on lighting the fire? David squared his shoulders, as though preparing for a fight.
He had to make her believe him.
“Lady Louisa,” he said more formally. “I know you are surprised to find me here.”
“Surprised,” Louisa said dryly, “does not cover it.”
David smiled. He could see the interest in her face, even if she believed she was hiding it sufficiently. She was curious. He had never known a woman to be so curious as Louisa was. Always asking questions, always demanding answers.
He was astonished, in a way, that the questions had not bene pouring out from the moment they had entered the drawing room.
“Last year – ”