With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter 21
Sunlight crept through Jack’s eyelids. He rolled over with a groan, squinting toward the source of the light. His eyes shot open wide. Where was he?
The details of the room came into focus. The pianoforte, the heavy drapes on the window, and the writing desk near the fireplace. He had a vague memory of falling asleep on that sofa the night before, but the blanket draped over him was a mystery. He sat up straight, the quick motion causing his head to spin. A sharp pain cut between his eyes, and he leaned forward until the sensation subsided. Staring at the bench of the pianoforte brought another memory to his muddled mind. Louisa had been sitting there the night before. She had been glaring at him.
His heart pounded as guilt poured over his shoulders. What had he done? He thrust his fist into the cushion beside him, gritting his teeth. How had he been so foolish? He had been so determined to remain true to his promise to keep Louisa’s stipulations, but he had already failed. All it had taken was a few words from Evan Whitby to throw him over the edge. Old habits had driven him to the tavern he had once frequented, and he had obviously drunk far too much. As much as he had tried not to take Whitby’s words seriously, Jack had failed. Fear had been planted in his chest, enough that he had done the very thing he had promised Louisa he would not do.
His legs shook as he stood, folding the blanket in a neat square. Had Louisa put that blanket on him? The entire evening was blurry in his memory, and he could only grasp onto brief moments. He did recall seeing Louisa, poised and pretty as always, even if she had been scowling. Anguish cut across his heart as he thought of how disappointed she must have been in him.
Raking a hand through his hair, he started toward the staircase. He needed to change his clothes and become cleaner before he saw Louisa. The apology he was about to offer would need to be presented properly, and not from the same man she had seen the night before.
Working as quickly as possible, he had a bath drawn and clean clothes selected. His valet helped shave the overgrown hair from his face, and Jack even combed his hair enough to keep it from falling over his forehead. He took a deep breath, shaking out his hands at his sides as he looked in the mirror. He had risen early, so breakfast would be being served at that very moment.
Once he made his way downstairs, he stopped by the breakfast room door. His heart pounded with dread.
“I can see your boot from here,” Louisa’s voice flitted through the doorway from inside.
Jack swallowed, stepping into the room.
Louisa sat at the table, a plate of eggs in front of her. The light from the nearby window illuminated her hair, bringing out auburn tones he had never seen before in the dark strands. She held her fork poised above her plate, one eyebrow raised. “I trust you slept well?”
He approached her with cautious steps. “Louisa—” he sighed, struggling to complete his thoughts. “I’m sorry. There is no excuse for my behavior.” His jaw clenched as he looked down at his boots. The shame he felt was potent, enveloping every part of his being. The feeling brought a sense of panic to his soul—it was a familiar sensation of helplessness. He couldn’t change what he had done. He couldn’t undo the damage, and he couldn’t bring back what was lost. What he felt now was only a small fraction of the anguish he had felt when his uncle died, but even that small fraction was large enough to span all of England.
He heard her chair move, but he didn’t look up until she was standing right beside him. “Next time you feel inclined to drink, please come to me instead.” Her eyes searched his. “I wish I knew what had caused you to be so troubled. You can confide in me anytime you wish to.” Her voice was quiet.
Jack nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had spoken to him so gently, even when he had done so much wrong. He wasn’t accustomed to it. Wasn’t she angry? He searched her gaze, but all he could find was concern. Despite the softness of her expression, it struck him down, filling him with weakness and strength at once.
“Thank you,” Jack said, his voice hoarse. “I-I will try harder. I’m relieved I didn’t cause any damage this time.”
A slight smile touched her lips. “You did say a thing or two that you might have wished to keep hidden.”
His stomach flipped, horror clutching the back of his neck. “What did I say?”
Louisa shrugged, her lips pinching to hide her smile as she walked back to the table. “I don’t think you would wish for your words to be repeated.”
He couldn’t believe it, but his own face grew hot. He laughed at her smug grin, willing his face to cool. “Are you now wishing that I’ll continue to drink so you can have more entertainment?”
She flashed him a warning glance, taking a bite from her fork. “You would do well to remember that if you are ever drunk again, I will ask you as many questions as I like while you are too incoherent to withhold your answers from me.” She grinned. “Yesterday evening was already quite educational.”
What the devil had he told her?
Louisa seemed quite content with herself as she finished her breakfast, brushing past him with a secretive smile. He would never know.
Before she could leave the room, a footman entered, extending a letter to him.
Louisa turned at the doorway, casting him a curious look. “What is that?”
“An invitation.” He frowned at the name, signed with a flourish at the bottom. Lord Bridport. His skin prickled with distaste.
With Louisa peeking over his shoulder, they both read the words carefully.
“We are invited to a ball?” Louisa jumped back, hope igniting in her features. “The only balls I have attended I went as my friend Bridget’s companion. I spent most of my time at those balls helping her drive away the suitors Matthew had chosen for her.” Louisa took the invitation from his hand, tracing the corners lovingly. “Shall we go?”
Jack eyed the invitation with suspicion. The timing was a bit unsettling. Why would Bridport invite him to a ball the day after their encounter in town? Was this his way of trying to make amends? Perhaps he had finally seen what a boor Evan Whitby was and felt some remorse for how he had treated Jack. As much as he would have liked to believe it, he couldn’t. There was something sinister about the timing of it all.
He returned his attention to Louisa, who still looked up at him expectantly. As always, he found it difficult to refuse with her looking at him in that way. He let out a sigh. “I’m not certain we should go.”
The excitement in her features deflated, and it stabbed at his heart. “Why not?”
“Lord Bridport and I…well, we are not on polite terms at the moment. The last time I was at his estate, he instructed a pair of footmen to throw me out.”
Louisa gaped at him. “Then why would he invite you to a ball?”
He found it amusing that she didn’t even inquire as to why he had been thrown out. She didn’t even seem surprised that he had been thrown out of an earl’s estate at all. “That is my question,” he said. “I do not entirely trust him at the moment.”
“This may be his attempt at reconciliation.” She offered a hopeful smile. “He could be seeking your forgiveness.”
Jack gave a slow nod, the idea making more sense when she offered it.
“May we please go?” Louisa begged with her eyes.
There was no possible way he could refuse—especially not when he had behaved so poorly the night before. She had been so quick to forgive him and to offer him exactly what he wanted: a second chance. A third chance, or whatever number he had reached now. All Louisa asked of him was to go to a ball.
He cursed himself for being so submissive, but her large brown eyes could convince him to do anything, even invest an absurd amount of money to have a pineapple imported to England. With her lips quirked in a cajoling smile, dark curls framing her face, and her brows drawn together, he could scarcely think clearly for long enough to phrase his answer.
“Very well, but I do have three stipulations.” He tossed her a mischievous smile.
A light laugh escaped her, deep interest flashing across her face. “Is that so?”
He was relieved that they could return to teasing and laughing, even when he had been so afraid that she would hate him for his actions the night before. “You must agree to all three, or I’m afraid we cannot attend.”
She raised one eyebrow, her curiosity obvious. “I will not promise my cooperation until I have heard what these stipulations entail.”
He chuckled, rubbing his jaw in thought. “First, you must allow me to order you a new ballgown and slippers. It may be as elaborate as you choose.”
The spark of excitement returned to her eyes, a wide smile spreading over her cheeks. “Do you realize how dangerous that offer is? If I were not such a sensible woman, I might spend your entire fortune.”
“It is a dangerous offer indeed, but not nearly so dangerous as my next one.”
She stared at him with eager anticipation.
He paused, building the suspense. “My second stipulation is that you must eat a hearty meal before attending the ball, so as to ensure you are in an agreeable mood among the other guests.”
She covered her mouth with a laugh. “I suppose I can manage that.”
Jack took a step closer, no longer surprised at the way her closeness affected him. The weakness, the strength, the overwhelming longing, all battling for dominance inside him. Being near Louisa lit a fire in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t only his longing to touch her, to kiss her, to remain near her much longer than she would let him. It was a fire that burned his desire to be a better man—to be the sort of husband she deserved, and not the sort she would come to resent.
Her chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. He could see that his closeness affected her too. “And the third…” he began with a smile, “is that you must promise me your first three dances.”
“Three?” Her eyebrows shot up, a shy smile on her lips. “That is a bit scandalous, you know.”
“Nothing is considered scandalous between husband and wife. No one could hold it against us.”
There were times he forgot that they were married. The fact that he could kiss her now in the middle of the breakfast room without consequence was a tempting notion. He banished the thought, forcing his mind to remain focused.
“I suppose you are right,” she said, looking down at the floor. “I will promise to fulfill all three of your stipulations.”
Jack feigned a deep sigh of relief. “Good. I was certain you would refuse the last one.”
She put on a thoughtful expression, one that he could tell was false. “I must confess, it was the least enticing of the three.”
He laughed, no longer surprised by her sharp tongue. He could only hope that her insults toward him were her best attempt at flirtation.
“If your dress is to be ready on time, we ought to order it today.” The ball was in one week. Under normal circumstances the invitation would have arrived much sooner, and that was what made Jack suspicious. It seemed his invitation to the ball had been an afterthought, perhaps an idea that had sprung up after Jack’s encounter with Bridport the day before. He shook away his concerns, focusing instead on the excitement on Louisa’s face.
“How do you expect me to make a decision on all the fabrics in one day?”
“I will help you.” Jack grinned. “I may not be skilled at many things, but one of my strongest skills involves selecting fabrics.”
She ducked her head with a laugh. “I would sooner wear a sheet to the ball than trust you to choose the fabrics for me.”
He chuckled, holding the door open for her. “If you insist on wearing a sheet, then at least add a little embroidery and ribbons.”
“Will you be doing the needlework as well?” she asked. “Is that another hidden skill of yours besides drawing?”
“You’ve uncovered my secret.”
He followed her into the hall, and she turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. She seemed to hesitate before speaking, her voice taking on a curious tone. “You do have many of those. I am glad to have uncovered at least one.”
Jack didn’t deny her words, the familiar unease beginning to spread in his stomach. He didn’t want moments like this to end. It had been a long while since he had felt like a person and not a disgrace. He couldn’t bear the thought of Louisa’s smiles becoming infrequent, or her laughter becoming a mere memory. He needed her.
The realization made his legs weak, and his heart beat hard in his chest. He had been lost for so long, alone in his disgrace, that he had forgotten what it felt like to need anyone. He had never experienced needing someone so much, more than he needed food or water or air. He survived on Louisa’s voice and smiles and teasing. Since she had come to live in that house, he hadn’t dreaded waking up each morning. If she were ever gone, he would be nothing but an empty shell.
He swallowed, taking a deep breath. Louisa was right—he did have many secrets, one of which he hadn’t fully faced until that moment. He had lost his heart to her, day by day, hour by hour—and he was helpless to ever retrieve it.
The mantua-maker was a short woman, even shorter than Louisa. She bustled in a circle, gathering up bolts of fabric to present to Louisa as she stood in the center of the shop. For how small the woman was, she was certainly strong. The fabrics she held up for Louisa’s inspection were heavy brocades and silks, wound tightly around bolts. The dress Louisa envisioned wearing to the ball was much like one she had once seen her friend Bridget wear. The gold fabric had flattered Bridget beautifully, and the neckline and hem had been exquisite.
Keeping the same shape of the dress in mind, she wanted to choose a different color for the fabric, and perhaps a few different details in the beadwork and trim. This ballgown would be the product of all her childhood dreams, if only she could justify the cost. She asked Jack for what must have been the third time, biting her lip hesitantly, “are you certain the expense will not be too great?” She knew the rush they had put on the order would come at an additional cost.
He shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “It will not. If you ask again, I will assume you are failing to comply with my stipulations.”
She hid her grin, turning back to the fabric selection like a scavenging bird. She picked up the corner of each piece, excitement surging in her heart as the buttery soft fabric slipped across her fingers. Perhaps she shouldn’t have teased Jack about being unable to help her make a decision. She didn’t trust herself to choose on her own.
“Is there a certain color you prefer?” Louisa asked.
Jack met her gaze, walking forward. The mantua-maker had bustled back behind her desk, gathering a few varieties of ribbon.
“I thought you didn’t trust me with such a feminine task?” He flashed her a grin.
“At the moment, I do not trust myself.” She sighed. “They are all so very beautiful.”
His eyes lingered on her face before he turned to study the fabrics. After a few seconds, his gaze settled on her again. Louisa peeked up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. “There isn’t a single color that wouldn’t suit you,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”
Her chest flooded with warmth, and so did her cheeks. “There must be one that you prefer.” She found herself unable to look at him, too unnerved by the look in his eyes. He had never looked so adoringly at her before. It made her heart pound wildly.
“The decision is yours,” Jack said with a wink. His voice grew lower. “I will be smitten when I see you in the dress no matter which you choose.”
The mantua-maker looked up from her place behind the desk. Jack spoke quietly enough that she likely hadn’t heard his words, but it was the quiet tone of his voice so close to her ear that made Louisa’s insides go up in flames.
She turned away from him, nearly stumbling as she walked closer to the bolt of fabric the color of a bluebell. She could no longer scowl at him when he said such flirtatious things. In truth, she quite liked it. “I believe the word you meant to use was ‘bewitched.’”
He chuckled, likely remembering his past description of her, long before she had welcomed his compliments. Her heart thudded as she sorted through the decision in her mind. Jack had thoroughly distracted her. He was far more captivating than any of the beautiful fabrics in the room.
“I think I will select this one.” She pointed at the fabric that had first caught her eye upon entering the shop. It was a pale blue, and she could easily envision it with the deep neckline, intricate beading, and corded trim she had seen on Bridget’s dress. It had been so long since she had had a new dress to wear. Most of her dresses were old, handed down to her from Alice or Bridget. Many of them had also begun to wear at the seams. Louisa could hardly contain her excitement, rising on her toes and squeezing her hands together. “It is perfect.”
She stole a quick glance at Jack, her heart leaping when she found the same admiration in his gaze again.
The mantua-maker rejoined them at the center of the room, taking Louisa’s measurements swiftly, darting back to her desk to make note of what she found and all of Louisa’s preferences for the dress. Jack sat on a stool nearby, seeming to be thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched the ordeal.
Louisa tried her hardest to focus, but she felt like a spectacle as the mantua maker stuck pins all around her waist, draping her body with fabrics, Jack watching all the while with a grin on his absurdly handsome face. She had tried, oh, she had tried, but it had been impossible to stay angry with him. He was too blasted charming and kind. She was far too aware of every movement he made as he watched her from across the room. His arms folding across his chest, his eyes blinking, each smile that curled his lips—
He could entertain her for hours by simply existing.
When the mantua-maker’s work was finally done, Louisa followed Jack out of the shop and back into the streets. Several people stared at them as they walked through the crowd, many of whom were servants sent on errands. How many of them had heard the rumors about Louisa? If they recognized Jack, they would know that she was his new wife. From the Lovells’ description of Jack, it seemed he was somewhat famous in the area, and he was likely even more so now that gossip had spread about how his marriage had come to be. Louisa ignored the unease that spread through her stomach, focusing instead on her excitement for the ball.
A couple rode by in a curricle, the woman holding the reins as the man instructed her. Louisa threw Jack a cajoling smile. “Will you teach me to lead a team of horses?”
Jack tipped his head to one side. “I’m surprised you would be willing to ever enter a wheeled contraption with me again after what occurred the last time.”
“That is why I wish to learn,” she said with a smug smile. “So I may be the one to drive from now on.”
Jack’s lips twisted into a grin. “I suppose that is fair, so long as you do not vomit on my boots again. I have just had them shined, you know.”
She threw him a half-hearted glare. “You did deserve it. If I were to do it again, I would ensure I soiled your buckskin breeches and waistcoat as well.”
Jack dipped his chin in surrender, and Louisa couldn’t help but laugh. He cocked one eyebrow at her. “Perhaps we should not embark on these driving lessons.”
“Please.” She eyed him carefully, watching his resolve unravel, just as it had when she had asked if they could go to the ball.
The corners of his mouth lifted. “If it will give me the opportunity to spend more time with you, I will gladly teach you.”
Her heart skipped, hammering hard against her ribs as it had been doing recently when he looked at her in that flirtatious way.
“We shall begin our lessons tomorrow.”
