With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold

Chapter 24

Evan Whitby and Lord Bridport walked out from the shadows of a nearby tree, interrupting the calmness Jack had begun to feel. He stepped in front of Louisa, blocking her partially from their view. She looked far too enchanting, and she was far too innocent. He would not have them ogling her.

“Whitby, Bridport.” Jack gave a bow, keeping his voice even, hoping his greeting would indicate that he was not in a fighting spirit that evening. All he wanted was to take Louisa back to the ballroom. He took one step forward, keeping his hold on Louisa’s arm.

Whitby stepped forward, a sneer on his chapped lips. Jack couldn’t quite understand why someone with two missing teeth would choose to bare them so readily. “Where are you going? You have neglected to introduce us to your wife.”

Jack stopped, keeping his expression stoic. He glanced at Bridport. What did he make of Whitby’s constant harassment? How could he tolerate being near the man so often? It had only been a few seconds and Jack was already prepared to bury him in the back of one of the hedges.

Bridport was the host of this ball—he wouldn’t forcibly stop Jack from crossing the path. He would wish to keep a pristine reputation at his own event.  If Whitby tried, Jack would simply throw another facer at him. It wasn’t good form to ignore a request from Bridport, but it was Whitby who had asked for an introduction, and Jack had no qualms about ignoring him.

“Come, Louisa,” Jack said in a quiet voice. He took a confident stride forward, keeping her close.

“Look at the way she obeys him,” Whitby said, nudging Bridport’s arm. “It is no wonder she is so submissive. She fears that he’ll kill her if she doesn’t listen.”

Jack’s stomach lurched, and he gritted his teeth.

“I feel a sense of obligation,” Whitby said, stepping in front of Jack, “to tell your wife exactly who she is married to.” With Louisa on one arm, it was difficult for Jack to push past Whitby without risking injury to her.

Louisa remained silent, holding tightly to Jack’s elbow. Her eyes were wide, flickering between Whitby and the earl.

It wasn’t until Bridport laughed that Jack lost his sense of composure. He turned on the man who he had once called his friend. “I wondered why you invited me here tonight. I should have known your intentions were not apologetic.”

Whitby’s laugh was just as vexing as everything else about him. “He invited you here at my request. He has proposed to my sister, and it was the only favor I asked of him in exchange for her hand.”

Bridport looked down, rubbing his nose nonchalantly. He must have felt some measure of guilt for luring Jack there. But why the devil had Whitby wanted him to attend?

“I didn’t know you enjoyed my company so dearly,” Jack said, turning back to Whitby. “I’m glad you could find me while the night is still young.”

Whitby laughed in his throat. “Do you see what you did to me?” He gestured at his missing teeth. “Teeth don’t heal like a broken nose.”

Jack groaned. He would have checked to ensure Louisa was all right, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Whitby as he drew another step closer. If this man was about to challenge him, he needed to ensure Louisa was somewhere safe. Her hands were wrapped tightly around his arm, fingers squeezing tighter with each step Whitby took. “I’m not looking for a fight tonight, Whitby.” Jack leveled him with a cutting glare. “Leave us.”

When Whitby came close enough to see Louisa more clearly, he tipped his head to one side, craning his neck to examine her from over Jack’s shoulder. He seemed surprised to find her clinging to Jack’s arm. “Have you not heard what your husband did?” Whitby asked.

Louisa’s quiet voice floated up to Jack’s ear. “He knocked your teeth out.”

Whitby laughed, glancing back at Bridport. He had obviously been drinking, evidenced by the crookedness of his gait. “That is not even the start of it. Five years ago, he killed a man—his own uncle and his father’s elder brother—in order to secure the inheritance of Haslington in his own father’s line. He framed it as a hunting accident.” Whitby grinned as he watched Louisa’s reaction. Jack was too afraid to look at her. Did she believe him? His heart pounded as Whitby opened his mouth to speak again, still directing his words at Louisa. “I suppose once he tires of you, he’ll simply take you horseback riding or something of the sort and stage another accident.”

Jack’s fists clenched. “I would never tire of her, and I would never hurt her.” He pulled his arm away from Louisa. Whitby seemed to have been anticipating Jack’s outburst, because before Jack could reach him, he lunged forward, thrusting his fist against Jack’s mouth. He fell back, already tasting blood.

Louisa screamed.

Jack charged forward, shoving Whitby away with both hands. “Stop!” He didn’t want Louisa to be afraid. Her scream still rang in his ears. He glanced back to ensure she was all right. It was his second mistake. Whitby’s fist collided with his jaw. His head spun as he fell to the ground, cursing under his breath. There was no one else in this part of the gardens, but someone must have heard Louisa’s scream.

Jack heard Whitby’s voice as his vision cleared. “Hold him down.”

Bridport glanced at Jack, then at Whitby. He didn’t move.

“Hold him down!”

Jack rolled to his hands and knees, spitting the blood that had gathered in his mouth. His teeth all seemed to still be present, so that was a relief. Jack met Bridport’s gaze as Whitby kicked him in the side. Jack groaned, rolling over. Why was he so off his guard?

“No.” Though he had hesitated for several seconds, Bridport’s voice was sharp. “This is enough. Enough!” He pushed Whitby hard enough to send him flailing to the ground.

Jack managed to find his feet, blinking away the stars in his vision. He immediately found Louisa, her hands pressed to her heart as she watched him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that she wasn’t harmed. Returning his attention to Bridport, Jack watched as the earl pulled Whitby back to his feet by the front of his jacket. “I’m finished with you. Away with you. Now.”

Whitby wiped the dirt from his cheek, throwing one more glare at Jack before turning toward Bridport with the same expression. “You’ll never marry my sister.”

“I’ll find a way without witnessing another moment of this.”

Whitby laughed, as if amused by the entire event. Jack’s face throbbed with pain, and so did his ribs where Whitby had kicked him. Guilt spread in his stomach. Louisa’s perfect evening had been ruined.

“Jack.” Her small voice was filled with concern. When he looked down at her eyes, they were wide as usual, but he couldn’t tell if her terror was directed at him or at the events that had just occurred. If she believed Whitby’s story about him, then she had every reason to be afraid. He took her hand, leading her past Bridport and Whitby. His breathing calmed once they were away from the two men, but only a little.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know they would follow us to the gardens. I’m so sorry to have ruined the ball for you.” He cringed at the stinging on his lip. He could still taste blood. His heart beat frantically, and he released her hand. She likely didn’t want to be near him after what Whitby had just told her. He needed to explain, but there were too many people watching them as they walked out to the drive. Their carriage was stopped there. The coachman jumped to attention when Jack and Louisa approached, climbing back to the coachbox.

“I think it is best that we leave now,” Jack said, wiping at his chin.

Louisa touched his arm. “Jack, please look at me.”

He turned back, his throat tightening.

A tear glistened on her cheek as she stared up at him. She drew a shaking breath. “I know it isn’t true. I know it.” Determination burned in her eyes, but there was also a hint of fear.

He extended his hand to her, helping her into the carriage. The moment he was inside and the door was closed, he put his face in his hands. “I wanted to be the one to explain everything to you.” He shook his head, raising his gaze to hers. “What you heard from Whitby were the rumors—the version of the story that has been twisted by society whispers and gossip papers.” He paused, wincing as the carriage began moving, the motion jostling his sore ribs. “But the story isn’t entirely false.”

Louisa looked so small in the corner of the carriage, round eyes fixed on him. Jack’s heart ached at the hint of fear that still lingered in her features. His throat tightened as he looked out the window. “My uncle did die at my hands. Five years ago, he came on a hunt with my father and me. I was not well-practiced with my gun, and I was careless in the way I held it.” The memory blinded him, and a tear fell down his cheek. “It fired, and I still do not know how, but I was the one who held it when it did. My uncle was in its path, and he never recovered from his wound.” Jack took a deep breath, shaking his head. “My uncle lost his life because of me. It is the reason my family’s reputation has suffered. It is the reason Cassandra has not married. The effects have reached all of them, and especially my father, who is believed to have conspired this murder with me in order to inherit his elder brother’s estate.” Jack turned his face away from the window, looking down at his lap. “Thankfully my uncle didn’t have a wife or children to leave behind, but that doesn’t make it better. It only adds to the suspicion that has been placed upon my father and me.” He swallowed hard. “I have prayed every day that the events could be undone, but I know they cannot.”

He waited in silence until Louisa finally spoke. Her hand touched his knee as she leaned forward in the carriage. “You must feel so horrible.” Another tear fell from her cheek, soaking into the knee of his trousers. She sniffed, the moonlight reflecting off the moisture in her eyes. “Oh, Jack.” Her voice was a broken whisper.

“The amount of guilt I have felt…I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Guilt doesn’t simply leave or fade over time. It grows stronger. I’ll feel it forever. It isn’t my father’s forgiveness that I require, it is my uncle’s.” His voice cracked. “But he isn’t here to give it, and perhaps that is why my father is so reluctant to give his.”

“But you do not have to contend with it alone,” Louisa said in a persuasive voice. “You should have told me sooner.” Tears continued to streak down her face. “You cannot carry such a burden all by yourself.”

Jack could hardly believe how understanding she was, how kind and compassionate. What had he done to deserve Louisa? Absolutely nothing. She was a gift. He certainly hadn’t earned her through any virtues of his own.

“Does your father know it was an accident?” she asked.

Jack nodded. “He knows.”

Her eyes fluttered to the window as the carriage moved up the drive of Benham Abbey. They were home. “I still think you should try to speak with him,” Louisa pleaded.

Fear jolted up Jack’s spine, and he started shaking his head.

“I’ll go with you.” Louisa’s gentle voice touched his heart, providing him with a strange sense of calm.

He gave a slow nod, wincing again as the carriage came to a halt. Being thrown out of his childhood home would be much harder than being thrown out of a gambling party or ball. That was why he had been too afraid to go back. But Louisa’s courage had tethered itself to him, and it refused to let go.

He stepped down from the carriage, turning to help Louisa down the step. His head ached, still spinning from Whitby’s strike to his jaw.

“Are you all right?” Louisa held onto one of his arms, guiding him inside the house.

He would have immediately nodded, but he quite liked the way Louisa was trying to steady him. Even with his bruised face and cut lip, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling down at her. “I am fine.”

She shook her head hard. “No, you are not. There is blood all over your face.” She let out a distressed sigh, guiding him toward the staircase. Her eyebrow arched as she glanced up at him. “Again.”

He chuckled, but the movement hurt his side.

“That is a disagreeable habit to have, you know,” she said, her face still devoid of a smile. The tears that had streaked down her face were still drying. With both hands wrapped around his left arm, she walked up the staircase with him. Her grip was more of an interference than a help, but Jack allowed her to think she was assisting him. It was far too adorable.

When they made it to his room, she instructed him to lay down on his bed. He obeyed, and she reached over him to grab two pillows, tucking each behind his head. A crease marked her forehead as she worked, and Jack could have been entertained all day watching her movements.

She fetched a maid who came with a bowl of water and a rag. Louisa instructed her to leave it by the bedside. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen, but he found it highly amusing. When the maid left the room, Louisa removed her gloves and dipped the rag in the warm water, wringing out the excess.

She sat down beside him on the bed, pressing the corner of the rag to his chin. He watched the intense focus on her features. Her brows scrunched and her lips pressed together, causing a dimple to form in her cheek. Each movement was slow as she cleaned the blood from his face.

“The last time I did this, you were fainted on the floor.” She shook her head as a laugh escaped her. “I didn’t imagine I would ever be doing this again.”

Jack grinned, disrupting her work with the movement of his mouth. “You must be grateful. I am well aware that you enjoyed every second of it.”

Her hand shook as she laughed, cleaning the blood around his mouth. “I most certainly did not.”

“Tell me…now that you have another experience to compare it to…how much of your enjoyment of the task is influenced by whether or not I am fully clothed?”

Her laughter echoed and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of crimson. “I was terrified of you.”

Jack met her gaze. “Are you still?”

She turned to dip the rag in the water. When she faced him again, she shook her head, delicately wiping away the blood around the cut on his lip. “Of course not.”

Emotion clawed at his throat, relief flooding through every inch of his body. Her gaze lingered on his face as she set the rag back on the table beside his bed. “There.” Her hand settled on his chest as she leaned closer to his face to examine her work. “Now you ought to sleep.” Her fingers brushed the hair away from his forehead, and for a moment, he forgot how badly his head hurt.

“I’m not tired,” he said in a defensive voice. He wanted her to stay beside him, even if his vision was a bit blurry. He tried to smile, but it stung the cut on his lip.

“Go to sleep,” she said with exasperation, leaning even closer to his face. Before she could sit up again, he wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her head against his chest, and he rested his chin on her hair.

Her body trembled slightly in his arms, and he heard her sniffle. “I thought that man was going to kill you.”

Jack closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized she had been just as afraid of losing him as he was of losing her. The realization brought him a new sense of strength. He ran his fingers through the loose strands of her hair. “He never would have succeeded. I am much stronger than him.”

“He did manage to break your nose.”

“It takes much more force to dislodge teeth.”

Her body shook again, but this time it was from laughter. Jack chuckled too, ignoring the pain in his side. He lost track of the minutes that Louisa lay there on his chest. She stopped demanding that he go to sleep. They talked and laughed instead, until both their voices were slurred and tired. When the candle on his bedside table was burned to the base, Louisa sat up halfway, her eyes drooping. “Shall we go see your family tomorrow?”

Jack swallowed hard. No matter the outcome of the visit, he had Louisa. He hadn’t lost her as he had feared. Everything he could ever need was there in front of him. “Yes.”

A faint smile crossed her lips as she slid off the bed. She still wore her ballgown, the sleeves crumpled from laying against him. Before she left, she turned back toward him. She hesitated for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose. She pulled back an inch, color creeping over her cheeks. “Goodnight.”

Jack grinned as he watched her hurry toward the door. “Goodnight, Louisa.” He waited until she looked at him again, one final glance as she exited the room. “Thank you,” he added. There was far more that he wanted to express than could be contained in those two words, but he couldn’t speak adequately while he was so tired.

She gave one of her shy smiles, slipping into the hallway.