With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold

Chapter 22

Leading a team of horses required more skill than Louisa had anticipated. It required a deft hand, a strong memory, and impeccable focus. The last area was where she struggled most.

It could have had much to do with the fact that Jack was her instructor.

Each time he took her hands in his, adjusting her hold on the reins, her mind went blank. He had taken to sitting much closer to her on the seat than was necessary, his thigh pressing against hers or his elbow brushing her side. Every encouraging smile he tossed her way made her arms weak.

These distractions infuriated her, as they kept her from progressing. However, as she dressed for their lessons each morning, she found that those distractions were what she most anticipated.

Her time in the curricle with Jack was her favorite part of each day. She had abandoned her efforts to pull his secrets from him, turning her efforts instead to coming to know more about him. The happy things. The light things. She wanted to know what had caused the wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled. During their rides, they spoke of both their childhoods and all the good they had experienced, long before they knew that both their lives would eventually take dreadful turns.

Louisa told him what she remembered of her late mother and father. She had hardly known her father, but her mother had been all that was good and kind, and she had raised Louisa to strive to be the same. Jack spoke of his childhood with similar joy, but he didn’t mention his father at all. Louisa was learning that it was a sure way to keep Jack in a cheerful mood—keeping the topic of their conversation far away from the elder Mr. Warwick.

Their daily rides were a time to laugh, and at the end of each one, Louisa’s stomach and cheeks ached. As strange as it was, Jack had become her friend. Her dearest friend. Love, that thing Louisa thought had died, that hope and dream, was stirring. Each time Jack looked at her, she felt it move, coming back to life. When he teased her, she wanted to kiss his grinning lips, no matter how smug.

There were many times when they were on their rides together when she caught him looking at her lips. Jack did not strike her as the sort of man who would be afraid to kiss a woman, especially his own wife. She hardly knew what he was waiting for. Did he think she wouldn’t welcome his kiss? She supposed she had forcefully demanded that she have a separate room as part of her stipulations. It wasn’t ridiculous to think that that could have taken part in Jack’s reluctance to show any affection. She couldn’t deny that the notion did frighten her a little. Louisa had been so cautious, but she was now prepared to throw caution straight into the river Derwent.

Two days before the ball, they walked into town to see the progress of her ballgown. The mantua-maker promised that her seamstresses would have it completed by the next morning, the day of the ball. As usual, while they were in town, Louisa didn’t fail to notice the attention they drew from the other people who surrounded the streets.

“Why do you suppose they are staring at us?” Louisa asked, holding tighter to Jack’s arm. The lingering glances from each passerby were not pleasant. They seemed to be appraising her, scrutinizing each step she took as Jack led her over the cobblestone street.

“I think they are questioning how on earth I managed to convince you to marry me.”

Louisa shook her head. “I think it is quite the contrary. If they heard the story Mrs. Irwin heard, they are likely wondering why you would have sacrificed your bachelor life for me.”

A nearby woman covered her mouth with her hand, whispering to her companion as she stared at them. Jack lifted his chin. “If Evan Whitby had anything to do with it, they are gossiping about something else entirely,” his voice was edged in anger.

Louisa looked up at him with alarm. Whitby. That had been the name he had said repeatedly while he was incoherently drunk, hadn’t it?

The moment they were back on the quiet path toward Benham Abbey, Louisa released the reins on her curiosity. “Is Evan Whitby the man who broke your nose?”

Jack nodded, his jaw tight.

“You never did tell me why you fought him that night.” Her heart pounded as she watched the signs of distress in his profile. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw.

“He was accusing me of something I didn’t do. He was perpetuating the rumors my family has been desperate to escape.” His voice was weak, almost…defeated. “It’s the reason my father has come to despise me, and Whitby treated it like a piece of entertainment for the entire party.”

Once again, Louisa was tempted to ask what the rumors were. There was so much Jack was keeping from her, but each time she pried for more information, he grew more distant. Have patience, she reminded herself. But it was becoming arduous to keep her questions less intrusive. “Are you certain your father despises you?” Louisa found it difficult to believe that anyone could despise Jack. And why would his father have attended the wedding if he despised his son? Louisa’s heart cracked a little to see the loss of hope in Jack’s eyes. “Is there nothing that can resolve the discord between you?” she asked.

Jack’s throat bobbed with a swallow, his arm becoming stiffer against her hand. “For years, I lived with him refusing to look at me or speak to me. He hasn’t forgiven me, and I don’t believe he ever will.”

Again, she was tempted to ask what he needed forgiveness for. She bit her tongue, holding back her curiosity. Not only did she think it unwise to ask while he was so distraught, but she was also afraid of the answer. He could tell her in his own time, without any pressure from her. All she could do now was try to help him, to offer some words of advice. “Well, have you ever asked for his forgiveness?”

Jack met her gaze. The top half of his face was shadowed from the afternoon sunlight by the brim of his hat, creating a line between light and dark. He took several steps in silence. “Not in such plain words, no.”

She cast him a thoughtful glance. “People are often more willing than you would expect to give things, so long as they know what you want from them. All you have to do is ask.”

His eyes reflected deep thought as he looked down at her. “I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that.” His jaw tightened again.

She gave a hopeful smile. “How do you expect to have what you want if you will not ask for it?”

The deep pondering in his eyes gave wings to the hope inside her. If he would consider having a conversation with his father, then he might finally have the weight lifted from his shoulders.

She hadn’t known Jack to be so quiet and thoughtful, but he hardly said another word for the rest of the walk back to Benham Abbey. And when they walked inside, he went straight to his room.

Louisa told herself not to fret. He was likely overwhelmed. Still, she couldn’t rid herself of the worry that she had said something to upset him.

When Jack’s silence persisted through dinner, her worries intensified. He was acting differently, his thoughts seeming to be far away from the present. Many times throughout the meal, she caught him watching her as if he were trying to solve a puzzle of some sort. Each time she caught his gaze, he looked away.

After the food was cleared from the table, he excused himself abruptly, leaving her alone at the table.

Louisa fought the sudden tears that burned behind her eyes. What had she done to upset him? She shunned her emotions as she walked to the drawing room. Jack wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the dim hallways, and when she opened the drawing room door, she found it empty as well. She let out a huffed breath. She had been so forgiving toward him for his drinking earlier that week, simply because she cared about him. Did he not care for her enough to forgive a few unwelcome words of advice?

A tear slid down her cheek as she sat on the bench at the pianoforte. She wiped it away in one angry swipe, spreading out the sheets of music she had been practicing. It was a piece from Haydn, one that she had been struggling to learn because of its difficulty. The notes were quick, the turbulent tune reflective of her mood. It was one of the only sonatas Louisa had encountered from Haydn in a minor key. The notes were blurred through her tears as she tried to regain her composure. Focus, she demanded to herself. She tried to practice the most difficult measures of the song, but her patience was wearing thin, in more ways than one. Another tear slipped from her eye, then another.

She swallowed hard, willing her hands to keep moving over the keys, even as she played several wrong notes. The song was already very turbulent, so each mistake she made seemed to blend into the music, reminding her just how accurately the piece mirrored her own feelings.

A movement caught her attention from across the room. Her heart leaped. Jack was walking toward the pianoforte. She could only see him from the corner of her eye, but she recognized his blue waistcoat and fitted black jacket. Her pulse raced past her ears as she sniffed, unsure whether to stop playing for long enough to wipe the tears from her cheeks, or to carry on playing as though nothing was wrong.

She prayed the tears would evaporate by the time Jack came close enough to see them. It had been silly of her to cry at all.

To her dismay, Jack sat down on the bench beside her when he reached the pianoforte. If she had thought being so near to Jack while driving a curricle was difficult, focusing on Haydn’s sonata was even more of a challenge. Her fingers hit three wrong notes, one after the other. She gritted her teeth, attempting to play the measure once more. Another wrong note rang through the air, and her hands froze over the keys. She could feel Jack’s gaze on the side of her face, and she could sense his concern without even looking.

He must have noticed her tears.

The notes on the sheets in front of her looked like a splatter of ink on a letter, dots and lines coming in and out of focus.

“Louisa—” Jack’s voice was gentle, but it sliced through her composure. She sniffed again, fighting the tear that wobbled on her eyelid. “Louisa, what’s wrong?”

She ordered her emotions to realign, clearing the lump in her throat with a hard swallow. “Nothing.”

“No, something is obviously amiss.” Jack angled toward her, but she remained focused on the music in front of her.

“Why should I tell you?” Louisa snapped. “Something has obviously been amiss with you this evening, and many times before, yet you will not tell me what it is.” She glared down at the keys. “You hardly spoke to me after our conversation on our walk home today.” Her voice cracked, and she sniffed again. Her tears had dried, her face growing hot. “I wish I understood you, but every time I try, I become more confused.” She placed her hands on the keys again, trying to focus on the notes.

Jack touched her wrist, stopping her. “You gave me much to think on. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant today. It wasn’t intentional. There are matters I must contend with on my own.”

Louisa shook her head, daring a quick glance at his face. His eyes were down-turned at the corners, his mouth just as solemn. “No, Jack. No.” Her voice was firm. “There is no matter that you should contend with alone. I cannot tell if you want me here or not, and that is what confuses me. If you are so determined to do everything on your own, then you should not have married me.” Her face flamed at the realization of the things she was saying, but she couldn’t stop. Her heart had been a bystander at first. It had been safe there. But now it was an active participant, fighting against her resolve to keep her feelings for Jack hidden.

She managed to focus on the first measures of the music. Poising her hands, she began playing, letting the music fill the silence her words had caused. Her focus slipped once or twice as she awaited Jack’s reply. When he finally spoke, her heart joined the music like a drum, pounding hard against her ribs.

“How can you possibly doubt that I want you?”

Her stomach fluttered. That had not been her phrasing. She had said she didn’t know whether or not her wanted her here. She was grateful for the pianoforte; it allowed her to pretend she was focused on something besides his last question. She shook her head at the keys, suddenly embarrassed for speaking her mind. “I wonder at times if you are simply being kind and honorable, trying to make me as comfortable here as possible.”

He shifted on the bench, and she could sense his frustration building. He was turned completely toward her now, and it took all her concentration to continue the song. He seemed personally affronted by her words. “Are you mad?”

She glared at the keys as she played with renewed vigor. Her nostrils flared. “No.”

“You are if you require more proof of my feelings.” His voice was heavy with exasperation. “I have never known whether you hated my company or enjoyed it. I cannot tell you how many times I would have kissed you if you had allowed me to.”

Her hands froze on the keys, her heart leaping to her throat. Her mind went blank, and the notes became mere dots and lines again. She could hardly breathe as silence pulsed between them. “You never asked.” She swallowed, stealing a glance at his face.

His eyes locked on hers, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. Had she just done what she thought she had done?

Had she given him an invitation?

Her heart thudded frantically as she turned her gaze back to the music. Before she could play a single note, Jack took her face in his hands, turning her toward him. His mouth captured hers just as swiftly, his fingers burying into her hair. Louisa gasped, but Jack stole her breath with another kiss, informing her that if she had indeed extended an invitation, he had wholeheartedly accepted it.

His lips pleaded with hers, giving an invitation of his own as he kissed her without restraint. That stirring in her chest, that dormant dream of love was not only awake now, but it was on fire. She had never kissed a man before, but even in all her romantic fancies, nothing could have prepared her for this. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t known Jack before.

She hadn’t known lovebefore.

She gave in to his unspoken persuading, kissing him with all the same intensity with which he kissed her. Her emotions were tempestuous, her heart beating wildly as her hands found his chest, sliding up to his neck and settling on the sides of his face. The stubble on his jaw was soft under her fingers, but rough as it rubbed the skin around her lips. His hands moved to her waist, and his knuckles flattened against her as he took a handful of the back of her dress, tugging her toward him on the bench.

She leaned against him, letting the thrill engulf her senses. She had never felt more wanted, more loved, in her entire life. His quickened breath brushed against her hair as he kissed the corner of her jaw, pausing to lean his forehead against her temple.

“I will only stop if you ask me to,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. His breath came as quickly as hers. Her hands were still gripping his lapels. His fingers traced her cheek, and his thumb pressed against her lower lip.

She couldn’t speak, especially not if it was in an attempt to stop him from kissing her. His hand cradled her face as his lips grazed over hers again, slow and taunting. She could sense his restraint. Fierce longing stole through her chest. Of all the secrets Jack kept from her, this was the one she had most wanted to know. He did want her. He might have even loved her too.

She had never felt so close to anyone, not in body or in soul. Although she felt that she had come to know Jack for who he truly was, the questions that remained in the back of her mind still taunted her, just like his soft, grazing lips. What was he hiding from her? Her heart ached with each kiss that he pressed along her cheek and hairline.

“Jack,” she breathed, shaking her head. The movement was too subtle, too indecisive. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips found hers again. She couldn’t resist another kiss, not when she was already so weak. Her heart shuddered with the effort to keep itself at bay as his lips moved fervently with hers. Was it worth the effort? She could surrender to her heart with no consequence. This was her husband, after all, and he was no longer a stranger. But a voice whispered in the back of her mind, giving her pause.

Washe a stranger?

No matter what her mind demanded, her heart seemed intent to ignore it. Kissing Jack was far too enjoyable, and Louisa lacked the strength to stop, even as doubt climbed her spine, shadowing her certainty. It wasn’t until her elbow leaned against the keys of the pianoforte that her mind was jarred back to life.

The assortment of mismatched notes rang through the air, making her jump. Her lips tore away from Jack, her face hot. Her arms were still draped around his neck, but she quickly unraveled them, wriggling out of his embrace just as quickly.

“Louisa—” he laughed breathlessly. “Where are you going?”

Her heart still thudded, her lips burning. “I—I am rather tired. I think I’ll go to my room now.” She emphasized the word my, if only to ensure he did not take another unspoken invitation and follow her. The uncertainty that had been prickling the back of her mind nipped at her heels as she walked out of the room, up the stairs, and behind her closed door. She pressed her fingers to her lips, melting against the inside of her door. She stared at the opposite wall, her heart still reeling.

She had just been kissed, quite thoroughly in fact, by the man she loved.

And she had run away from him.

Why on earth had she done that?

Instant regret poured through her veins, but she managed to resist the urge to go back down to the drawing room. She couldn’t love Jack as she wanted to if she knew he didn’t trust her. His secrets created an unseen barrier between them, and she feared that his feelings for her were only a distraction for his pain. She needed to know what caused it…the very root of his anguish. She sensed it wasn’t linked only to his father’s disapproval of him.

The true source of Jack’s pain was buried deeper in his past. She was sure of it. And it still hurt that he didn’t trust her to help him through it. She had made herself vulnerable that night in confessing her concerns, so now it was his turn to be vulnerable.

No matter how difficult it would be, she vowed to herself not kiss him again until he did.

Her legs were weak as she walked to her bed, falling into a heap on top of her blankets. Where was Mrs. Warwick’s fainting couch when she needed it? She covered her face with both hands, forcing herself not to think of Jack a moment longer.

But by the time she finally rang for her maid, she was still thinking about his smile and breathless laugh when she had jumped away from the pianoforte.

When she climbed under her blankets, she was still thinking about how perfectly she had fit in his arms.

And when half the night had passed and her eyelids finally drooped closed, she was still thinking about how difficult it would be to keep her vow not to kiss him again.