With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter 8
Had he died?Jack blinked, his vision becoming blurred. Was he in heaven? Who else could be hovering over him but an angel? A deep chuckle started bubbling in his chest, but never left his throat. Gads, his face hurt. The back of his head hurt just as much, throbbing against the hard floor. Had he hit his head? His vision cleared enough for him to examine the angel above him. Her dark hair hung long around her shoulders, her large brown eyes flitting around the room. His room.
What the devil was she doing in his room?
Dread filled his stomach as the possibilities roamed through his mind. No, he was not so much of a rake. He hadn’t even been drinking as much as usual that evening; if he had, he would have been a little number to the pain in his nose. As his mind cleared, so did his memory. He had been at Newton Hall at the gambling party. That atrocious man, Evan Whitby, had begun spreading rumors, and they had both shared a few facers. Then he had come home to eat, but had taken a few drinks instead. What had happened after that was hazy. He examined the angel above him again, finding her more familiar by the second. As if she sensed his gaze, she looked down, catching his eyes.
The sound that escaped her mouth was a mixture of a gasp and a scream, ringing in his sensitive ears.
Angel? Demon, rather.
Jack cringed, rolling to one side. Perhaps he was not in heaven, but somewhere else entirely.
“Do I truly look so hideous?” Jack muttered, propping himself up on one elbow. He touched the bridge of his nose gingerly, appalled at how much larger it felt under his fingertips.
The woman had scrambled back a few feet, still kneeling on the floor. She was not well-dressed—wearing what appeared to be an old gown, the fabric covering her shoulders loosely and nearly falling down. The light of one candle was all that illuminated the room, so he couldn’t quite recognize her face in the dimness. He had certainly seen her before, that much he knew. He studied her further, sitting up slowly.
“What are you doing in this house?” she asked in a squeak.
“Pardon me?” Jack cleared his throat. “I believe I should be begging that question of you.” He rubbed his forehead. One of his eyes was swollen, so he couldn’t see as clearly as he would have liked as he examined the woman in front of him. She was turned slightly away from him, terror gleaming in her eyes. The buttons on the back of her dress were undone.
Had that been his doing?
As he sat up, a blanket slid off his chest and onto his lap. Where had his deuced shirt gone? He swallowed. What sort of a man had he become? He had never been a rake, but what excuse could he have now?
The woman before him looked frightened out of her wits. His memories continued to flood back to him from that evening. After he had gone to the kitchen, he had walked straight back to his room. Alone. Then he had opened his wardrobe for a change of clothes and…
Oh, yes. That had been frightening, indeed. There had been someone inside. He recalled the round brown eyes and dark hair, and the steel poker that had been pointed straight at his heart. He recalled her high-pitched shriek. Or had that been his own shriek? Then he had hit the floor.
“What on earth were you doing in my wardrobe?” His voice came back to him, and he inched toward her on the floor, eager for a closer look. He had seen her somewhere before—somewhere other than the wardrobe.
“I—I am very…very confused.” She put a hand to her forehead, all the while keeping one eye fixed on him.
“Ah, I remember now.” He raised one finger. “You lost your bonnet in town.” How could he have forgotten such a pretty face? In truth, there was little he hadn’t forgotten from that day. But it was slowly coming back to him now. He raised one eyebrow, unable to prevent a sly smile from pulling on his lips. “Miss Rosemeyer, was it? Did you follow me here?”
“No!” Her voice was quick, the horror on her face strangely endearing. Jack was just as confused as she seemed, yet that couldn’t stop his amusement with the situation. If she truly had followed him here, then she was a madwoman. Shouldn’t he be at least a little afraid?
Her tiny fingers fiddled with the fabric of her skirt, a dimple denting her round cheek as she stared at him with her lips pressed together.
No. He could have been more afraid if a puppy were sitting across from him. At least now that she wasn’t pointing the steel poker at his chest, that was.
“My—my aunt lives here,” she said in a quiet voice. “Mrs. Irwin. I arrived too late to see her. The housekeeper…it is embarrassing to confess, but I’m afraid she mistook me for a maid.” Her voice continued rambling, picking up speed. “I was hungry and couldn’t sleep, so I was in search of the kitchen when I heard you. I ran here to hide.” She kept her round gaze fixed on him. “You startled me.”
“I startled you?” Jack scoffed, rubbing the back of his head. “It is not every day I find a pretty lady hiding in my bedchamber.”
She frowned.
“Only every other day.”
Her eyes grew impossibly wider.
Jack chuckled, unable to help himself. “It was a pleasant surprise to see you again, I must confess, even under the circumstances.”
Her look of surprise turned to a scowl, and for a moment, he worried she would reach for the poker again. “Why did you fail to mention you lived with Mrs. Irwin? Are you her relative?”
He groaned. “Please refrain from speaking such profanity again. I have no relation to Mrs. Irwin whatsoever. I do not live with her. I’m letting this house. She lives across town now.”
Miss Rosemeyer’s face went whiter than a clean serviette. “M-my aunt is not here?”
“No, indeed.” Jack grinned, the movement causing his nose to throb again. He sniffed, wiping beneath his nose, surprised that the blood was gone. He glanced at the bowl of reddened water beside him and the rag floating in it. “Did you wash my face?”
The question brought a little color back to her cheeks. “Yes, though I was tempted to leave you there on the floor.”
“Is there anything else you were tempted to do while I was at your disposal?” He gave a half smile, to which she responded with a glare he never would have imagined possible on that sweet face of hers.
“I was tempted to give your right eye a bruise to match the left if that is what you mean.” Her sudden confidence seemed to be a facade. She still fiddled nervously with the fabric of her skirts. Even so, her gaze could have cut stone.
“Well…” Jack swallowed. “I thank you for not succumbing to such temptations.”
She said nothing, tucking strands of hair behind her ears as she took a shaky breath. She really did seem terrified. He should not have been tormenting her so.
“If my aunt is not here, then how did she receive my letter? She wrote her reply and sent it from this address.” Miss Rosemeyer shook her head, taking her face in her hands as she stared into space. “Would she have invited me here as a cruel trick?”
Jack shrugged. He would not have put it past Mrs. Irwin to do such a despicable thing. “Perhaps you misunderstood her letter.”
“It was very concise.” Miss Rosemeyer let out a long puff of air. “I did not misunderstand.”
“Well, then. On the morrow, we will walk to Mrs. Irwin’s new residence and sort out this—er—misunderstanding.” A surge of pity bloomed in Jack’s chest. What would Miss Rosemeyer’s life be like living with Mrs. Irwin? He could hardly believe the woman would be hospitable. What had brought Miss Rosemeyer to such a desperate situation?
Miss Rosemeyer wrung her hands. “If you tell me where to go, I will go without your assistance, thank you.”
“Just as well.” Jack sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him. “So long as you end up where you belong.”
The corners of her mouth tipped downward, her hands stopping their movement on the fabric of her skirts. “I don’t belong anywhere.” She glanced up, her eyes meeting his, solemn in the dimness. She looked away fast, her gaze flitting over his chest and shoulders. Her cheeks reddened.
Jack grinned.
“Least of all here. I—I will go back to my room. Well, I suppose it is not my room, only the place your housekeeper had prepared for a new maid.” She put a hand to her head. “Perhaps I should sleep outside.”
“You may stay in that room tonight,” Jack said around a chuckle. Each laugh made the bruises on his face ache more. “I will not banish you yet. My housekeeper has been desperate for new maids, so I imagine that is why she mistook you for one. I don’t see what in your appearance or manner of speaking could have caused her to make that mistake.” His gaze swept over her smooth skin and bright, intelligent eyes. She was a lady, that much was certain. A young, frightened, and confused one. Also a very attractive one. He looked away, noting again how her dress was coming undone down the back. Did she know? He almost chuckled again. After seeing her in town that day, seemingly quite distressed over losing her bonnet, he never imagined he would see her in this state, with her hair completely loose and her dress nearly the same. She likely hadn’t planned on being seen like that either.
Hecertainly hadn’t planned on being seen in his current state. He caught Miss Rosemeyer’s gaze flicker below his neck once again.
“I put that blanket there for a reason,” Miss Rosemeyer blurted. “You might use it to cover yourself.” She gave a quiet huff, as though disgusted, nodding at the blanket in his lap.
Jack made no move to retrieve it, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort on her face. Be a gentleman, a voice in his head—his mother’s voice—demanded. How many times had she told him that? He tugged the blanket up over his shoulders, tucking it under his chin.
He eyed her. “Are you able to breathe now? Has your heart slowed just a little?”
Miss Rosemeyer’s brows shot up. “P-pardon me?”
He resumed his chuckling. He was doing it again—frightening the poor girl with his flirting. Why was it so dashed entertaining?
She finally seemed to catch him meaning, and her brows leveled over her eyes. Her lips pressed together, hiding what seemed to be gritted teeth. He could almost read her mind from that one look. She was wishing for his heart to slow…until it stopped entirely.
“I will find my way back to my room now.” She stood in one swift motion, her skirts sending a breeze toward the nearby candle on the floor. The only light in the room extinguished in an instant.
“Drat,” she whispered in the dark.
Jack staggered to his feet.
“Stay back!” Miss Rosemeyer’s panicked voice echoed.
“I’m not a rabid beast. I will not attack you. Might I remind you that you were the one pointing the poker at my chest when you pounced out of my wardrobe.”
“I did not pounce out of the wardrobe. I fell backward when you startled me.”
“I assure you, it was not intentional.” Jack glanced heavenward with a sigh. Fortunately, she couldn’t see his exasperation. When would she realize that it was he who had been more startled? All he had expected to see inside was a row of unmoving, clean clothing, not a madwoman with a weapon. No, Miss Rosemeyer was not a madwoman, she was simply very lost and confused.
“How can I know you are being honest? I cannot take your word. You could have followed me here from town yesterday afternoon.” Her voice was frantic as her feet paced quietly in the darkness. “I don’t know where I am, and I have never been so hungry,” she finished in what Jack could only call a snarl.
He stepped back in surprise, his eyes adjusting enough to see her outline and the whites of her eyes. She fell silent.
“Ah. So it is your hunger which has led you to this state.”
“This state?” she asked, her voice fatigued.
“Madness.”
A quiet giggle filled the air, and he took another step back.
“I am not mad.” Her laughter continued, growing higher with disbelief. “I am perfectly sane. You are mad. And you are drunk. Drinking to excess is a disagreeable habit to have, you know.”
“Let us find you some food, shall we?” Jack said in a cautious tone. He glanced at the window. It wasn’t his eyes adjusting, but the first hints of dawn sending a faint glow into the sky. It would still be quite some time before the sun rose fully, but the night was slipping away. Once Miss Rosemeyer was fed and asleep, he could plan how he was going to get her out of his house and where she belonged without further damage to her reputation. Except she had said she didn’t belong anywhere. Empathy unfolded in his chest. He knew the feeling well.
“Come with me,” he said, marching to the door. His head spun from the sudden movement. He opened the door swiftly, turning toward Miss Rosemeyer.
She stared at him, eyes wide.
He looked down, realizing he had left his covering behind again. Quite frankly, he was too exhausted to care. “Yes, I am aware that I am still not wearing my shirt, but we will make quick work of this and then I plan to go to sleep.”
Miss Rosemeyer’s expression didn’t change. How could he see her so clearly? A shadow flickered on her face. There was light behind him, the glow from a candle bouncing through the room. Oh. She wasn’t looking at him at all. She was looking at something behind his shoulder.
He turned, locking eyes with none other than his housekeeper, Mrs. Chamberlain.
A rattling gasp escaped her, and her hand flew to her chest. She only looked at Jack for a brief moment before turning her attention to Miss Rosemeyer, who still stood, just a few paces away, her hair loose and gown unbuttoned down the back.
Confound it, this did not look good.
Jack cleared his throat, but it was too dry to formulate words.
Mrs. Chamberlain curtsied, averting her gaze. “Master Warwick. My apologies.” The shock of her expression bled into her voice. “I heard a great deal of commotion and thought it prudent to investigate.” She looked up at Miss Rosemeyer again, her eyes fuming.
“There has been a misunderstanding,” Jack said in a slow voice. “This—” he gave a hard laugh. “This is not as it appears. I—she—” He gestured at Miss Rosemeyer. Why could he not speak? His mind raced. The gossip of servants was impossible to stop; Miss Rosemeyer was ruined already if he did not find the right words to say.
“Mrs. Irwin would have never stood for such promiscuity in her home,” Mrs. Chamberlain blurted, as though she could not help herself. “How dishonorable. How scandalous!” she spat. “It is no wonder you hired her. I did think she was too pretty to be a maid.”
Jack’s eyes widened. He had never heard such frank words from a servant before. He wouldn’t even have expected it from Mrs. Chamberlain, even if she was the least well-mannered of his staff.
“If you care to keep your position in this house, you will hold your tongue.” Jack glared down at her. “You are mistaken. Miss Rosemeyer was lost and confused. She’s not a maid at all. She’s a relative of Mrs. Irwin’s.”
A gasp even more thunderous than the first came from Mrs. Chamberlain. Her brows shot up over her frog-like eyes.
Jack’s stomach sank. What had he done? He could not have possibly said anything more condemning. It would have been better for Miss Rosemeyer if she were believed to be a maid.
“You have ruined the girl! In Mrs. Irwin’s home, no less.” Mrs. Chamberlain appeared near to fainting.
“This is my home at the moment,” Jack reminded her in a stern voice. “And I assure you, you misunderstand the circumstances. Miss Rosemeyer was invited to Folkswich by Mrs. Irwin, and there was a bit of—er—confusion concerning the location of her residence. You mistook Miss Rosemeyer for a maid when she arrived this evening. She was wandering the house, quite confused, and—”
“And she found her way to your bedchamber accidentally?” Mrs. Chamberlain continued to speak far out of her bounds. “It appears you welcomed her arrival.” The dismay in the housekeeper’s voice grated on him as her eyes flickered between Miss Rosemeyer and Jack, heavy with disapproval.
Jack chuckled, unable to stop himself. “What has occurred here is far from romantic, I assure you.”
Miss Rosemeyer’s quiet voice piped in from behind him. “I hid in his wardrobe because I thought he was an intruder. H-he fainted when he saw me and I stayed to ensure he was not dead and cleaned the blood from his face.”
“I have never heard a more ridiculous tale in my life,” Mrs. Chamberlain said, turning up her nose. “Mrs. Irwin will be ashamed to hear you are masquerading as her relative.”
“I promise, I am who I say,” Miss Rosemeyer pleaded.
“Upon my word,” Mrs. Chamberlain shook her head. “If that is true, she will never wish to soil her hands with you.”
Miss Rosemeyer shrank back.
Anger rose in Jack’s throat as he returned his gaze to Mrs. Chamberlain. “Let us hope Mrs. Irwin wishes to ‘soil her hands’ with you, because you are not permitted to work in my house another day.”
“I didn’t plan to.” The housekeeper lifted her chin. “Mrs. Irwin has already been asking me to return to work for her, where I’m appreciated. My loyalty’s now to her, not to this house and the sorts of scandals existing here.”
Jack had a few more facers up his sleeve. If Mrs. Chamberlain were a man, he might have planted them. “It is no wonder you and Mrs. Irwin are so compatible. Go, please. Once Miss Rosemeyer is ready, bring her along. Mrs. Irwin will be glad to see her niece has arrived in Folkswich.”
Mrs. Chamberlain scoffed. “This girl won’t be receiving such a warm welcome from Mrs. Irwin after what I’ve witnessed tonight. I daresay this girl has her cap set on you and this was her plan to ensnare you.”
Miss Rosemeyer gasped. “I was lost. That is all. I will explain it all to my aunt today. Surely she will understand.” Her voice wavered.
Jack closed his eyes. No. Mrs. Irwin would not understand. She despised Jack, and would have every reason to believe he was the rake Mrs. Chamberlain claimed him to be. Mrs. Irwin prided herself on her solitude. There was a reason she did not associate with others, and it was to keep her own reputation spotless. To think she would take in Miss Rosemeyer now was almost humorous.
But Jack couldn’t laugh. Not when he saw the desperation in Miss Rosemeyer’s wide brown eyes.
“All will be well,” Miss Rosemeyer said as she walked past him with quick steps, straight into the hall. “I have no doubt Mrs. Irwin will be true to her word in allowing me to live with her.” She seemed to be speaking more to herself than to him or Mrs. Chamberlain. “Matthew will help me. He will ensure nothing goes awry.”
Jack watched her with concern. “Who is Matthew?”
“My—well, my friend. I was under his protection at his estate in Surrey before coming here.”
“A mistress, no doubt,” Mrs. Chamberlain muttered, her voice barely audible.
Miss Rosemeyer’s cheeks flamed. “No. How dare you make such an assumption.” Her nostrils flared, and she marched farther into the hall.
Jack studied her carefully. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Miss Rosemeyer had the temptation to plant a facer or two on the housekeeper as well. He cleared his throat. “Miss Rosemeyer—wait. I will assist you in any way I can.”
She glanced back at him, wariness still hovering on her features. “Matthew will help me.”
Jack gave a swift nod. Matthew. Who was this Matthew? Did Jack trust him to sort out this situation with Miss Rosemeyer and Mrs. Irwin? Would Miss Rosemeyer be well cared for? He set his worries aside, appalled that they had even come. Miss Rosemeyer’s well-being was not his concern. She was practically a stranger to him. And she had turned his night into a living nightmare, at that. He should be happy to be rid of her.
Mrs. Chamberlain ushered Miss Rosemeyer forward and farther away from Jack. With a huff, the housekeeper shut the door, blocking Miss Rosemeyer from his view.
Jack stared at the grain of the wood, his mind reeling.
Poor Miss Rosemeyer.
If she thought she still had a place with Mrs. Irwin…she was far too optimistic for her own good. The nervous crease in her brow, her tiny fiddling fingers, and wide eyes were seared in his memory, and he found himself reflecting on them far too much as he tried to fall asleep.
