Chapter Three
Louisa had planned to say something when she entered the room, but every conceivable thought emptied out of her head upon entering the room where a gigantic, extravagant painting hung on the wall above the fireplace.
It was a woodland scene, with a number of beautiful women, scantily clad in sheer fabrics, dancing, and lounging around a large woodland pond.
In the corner of the painting, beneath a dark willow tree, were three different satyrs, pushing one another out of the way as they spied on the nymphs.
Louisa glanced down after a long moment, embarrassed to have been so entranced by the scandalous painting on the wall. There were more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that she was to be married first thing in the morning.
Turning around abruptly, she opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw the tall, dark-haired man staring at her, she swallowed hard. Think, she thought to herself. Say something.
“Er, hm, Lieutenant Carlyle, was it?” He did not answer, only continued to stare at her.
“Right. Well, sir, I believe there has been some sort of misunderstanding. You see, I’m not a marriage-minded miss.
Nor am I from money, as Mrs. Dove-Lyon stated.
Frankly, I’m afraid this is just a terrible misunderstanding. ”
When he didn’t speak, she continued.
“You see, I only meant to return a brooch. A stolen brooch, and that was it. Then, I was going to return home and well…” She looked down. “I hadn’t really planned on anything further, except to have the brooch returned to its proper owner. I didn’t intend to play a part in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s game.”
“What?”
“I said, I didn’t intent to play—”
“I can’t see you.”
Louisa looked up, confused. He was staring right at her.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, arms lifting slightly. “I’m right here.”
“I know,” he said, appearing exasperated.
“It’s just that… I can’t see what you’re saying.
” She frowned, unsure of what he meant. He sighed before continuing.
“I read lips. You see, I’m completely deaf in my right ear,” he said lifting his right hand as if to signal to her.
“And partially in my left ear. I’ve learned to read lips, proficiently, but I can’t do so if you’re not facing me. ”
“Oh,” she repeated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
“Well, then,” she took a step towards him. “I’m not rich, Lieutenant Carlyle. Nor am I of the marrying mind. There’s been a mistake.”
“Bessie doesn’t make mistakes,” he said slowly. “She’s always intentional. Although what she hopes to come of this union, I do not know.”
“But that’s just it, Lieutenant, there isn’t going to be a union. I’m not marrying anyone.”
Then, to her eternal misery, he looked at her with pity.
“Miss Babcock, there isn’t much you can do to avoid it. Bessie has named you in front of a room of the most powerful, influential men in the country. You are now known to them, and anything attached to you will forever be attached to this evening. It was a mistake coming here in the first place.”
Louisa, only then, began to understand the consequences of coming to this establishment.
“No,” she said softly, more to herself than to him. “No, I can’t marry you.”
Seemingly agreeing with her, the lieutenant nodded, but then spoke.
“I’m afraid it’s too late.”
Louisa blinked. Then, she turned away, unwilling to allow him to see any emotions that might appear on her face. She didn’t know this man, nor anything about him except for the fact that he was partially deaf and a war hero.
Well, that wasn’t terrible. Only a truly honorable person could be a hero and while his hearing was certainly an issue, he had managed to continue in the world despite it.
Not to mention he was very pleasing to look at, with his dark hair and penetrating dark eyes.
Were they truly black or some other color, like mahogany brown?
She couldn’t tell from this far away. And Louisa wasn’t sure exactly why, but she was quite drawn to the little frown lines on the edge of his mouth.
He seemed to have a permanent pout and it made her curious.
“I’m sorry,” she heard him say from behind her and she whipped around to face him.
What was he sorry for?
“It’s not your fault, though, is it? In truth, this is all my doing.”
Most of the people in her life had never taken responsibility for their actions and Louisa loathed it.
She was adamant to do the opposite, if only out of spite.
It was her least favorite attribute of a person and she was determined to take every bit that life had to throw at her and be grateful, lest she became like her mother.
“I don’t think it was anyone’s fault, except perhaps Bessie.”
The lieutenant’s use of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s Christian name made Louisa uncomfortable.
There seemed to be a history between them, and while Mrs. Dove-Lyon was significantly older than the lieutenant, matters of the heart rarely adhered to rules of propriety.
Even Louisa understood that, in all her innocence.
But to be married to a stranger, even a hero, was as unfathomable as it was ludicrous.
Louisa May Babcock was not meant for any sort of public life.
As the granddaughter of peers, she had been allotted some societal privileges, yes, but her family was only rich in name.
Their country home in Shropshire had been humble, a sizeable cottage at best. They had a cook, a maid, and a footman, but nothing about them was fashionable, and the idea of being the wife of a wartime hero, well. It was overwhelming.
“I fear, Lieutenant, that you might suffer the most from this. I am not wealthy, or clever. I’m pretty, but not beautiful, and I’m not well versed in French, Italian, or German.”
The lieutenant frowned, confused.
“Should you be?”
Louisa gave him a self-deprecating smile.
“What I mean to say is, I’ve not been brought up to be a war hero’s wife. To be honest, I’ve barely been raised to be a proper lady. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
For a long moment, the lieutenant seemed to study her, but Louisa was determined to be honest with him. She was confident that she would be able to talk her way out of this mistake because that’s what it was. A massive, massive mistake.
“What sort of woman do you think would make a good wife for a war hero?”
Louisa smiled anxiously. She always smiled when she was uncomfortable.
She had learned early on that the world did not care about her comforts or lack thereof.
It only cared for how she reacted, and that reaction could only be witty.
Not self-deprecating, not pouty. It could only be clever, as it weeded out the less-than-sharp minds.
“I suppose, a war hero might be partial to a wife who was good at entertaining or speaking. I assume one would want the sort of wife that would be able to entertain soldiers, generals, and dignitaries. I am not that sort of woman.”
“And what sort of woman are you?”
Louisa opened her mouth to answer, but then she couldn’t quite figure out an answer. She wasn’t the sort to entertain great men. She was quiet and kind and had lived an unassuming life thus far.
“I’m afraid I’m a rather simple woman, sir,” she started slowly. “I only ever wanted peace.”
He frowned.
“Peace?”
“Yes.”
“In what manner?”
Louisa inhaled deeply. Surely, it was too soon to reveal so much about herself, and yet, she was talking to her husband-to-be. As silly as that was. Once they were finished with this conversation, the lieutenant would realize what a poor match they were.
Biting her bottom lip, Louisa exhaled.
“All my life, I’ve been told about what could have been.
What should have been. From my grandmother, my mother, and even my father.
They were so sure of their futures, so determined to get what they thought they deserved and when it came up lacking, in their eyes, they turned wretched and jaded.
Nothing was ever good enough, because to them, they deserved better.
Or rather not better, just more.” She shook her head.
“I’ve only ever been grateful, for my life and situation and for my sister especially.
She is much like me, in that she’s never demanded anything, yet she deserves so much.
” Louisa smiled sadly. “She is the most important person in my life and all she wants is to fall in love and be married. If I could manage that for her, I think, I would be content for the rest of my life, knowing that she was happy.”
For a long moment, neither spoke, as Louisa’s words melted into the atmosphere.
“A poor woman with a good soul is worth her weight in gold,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
“Excuse me?”
He looked at her.
“Rhys. My name is Rhys James Carlyle.”
“Lieutenant Carlyle—”
“Rhys.”
Trepidation clawed its way up Louisa’s spine.
“Sir, if I call you that, I’m afraid what it might mean,” she said looking down.
To her terror, the man’s shiny black boots entered her vision, and she looked up to see him closer than before.
“I can’t know what you’re saying if you don’t look directly at me,” he said, his tone tinged with shame.
It made her heart hurt.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she started. “I just said, if I were to call you by your given name, I’m afraid what that might mean.”
“It would mean that we have found ourselves in a predicament that is not easily undone. Louisa, you’ve stated that your only hope is to see your sister happy.
Is that correct?” She nodded. “Unfortunately, with the entirety of the ton knowing that you were here tonight and that you were wagered off in a game for marriage, well, it would make it difficult to come out of this situation with your reputation intact. In fact, I daresay that if we don’t marry, you will become a social pariah, as will your sister. ”
“But… But surely you cannot want this.”