18. Chapter 18

Chapter eighteen

They had been invited to dine at Lady Hughes, and judging by the set of Robert's mouth, Louisa could tell he was loath to go. She tried not to smile as they made their way downstairs.

"I do not like the woman," Robert said, breaking the quiet. It was as if he had been mulling over the words for hours and they could not be kept inside any longer, finally finding purchase on his tongue after he had fully thought through his feelings.

"Why not? She is perfectly lovely."

"Lovely?" His eyes widened as he held her shawl out for her. He slipped it over her shoulders after she turned her back to him.

"Yes," she continued. "Lady Hughes is energetic and has a looseness of tongue that I quite enjoy."

"Of course." He offered her his arm as the footman opened the door for them to pass. "I should have guessed that. If she only did not take liberties where she should not, then I would not complain."

"And what liberties has she taken with you?"

"It is more the constant gossip that follows her wherever she goes. She spreads it like wildfire in a dry grass field."

They walked down the front steps toward the carriage, the air chilly but refreshing. Stars sprinkled the deep blue of the night, and Louisa tipped her head up to admire them.

"Careful," Robert said, hefting more of her weight on his arm as they reached the bottom step. "You are going to break your ankle if you stare up at the sky like that."

"Nonsense. You are too strong to let me fall."

Was it just her imagination, or did his chest puff up at her remark? She smiled.

"What?" He brought his head down as he steered them toward the carriage. "You find a broken bone humorous?"

"No," she said with a laugh, squeezing his arm. "I was only thinking."

"And what were you thinking?"

She shook her head. "And what, Your Grace, makes you think you are privileged to my thoughts?"

"Nothing." He helped her up into the carriage, then sat beside her. The door shut, and he tapped the roof twice, setting it into motion. "But a man can always hope."

"Oh, come now. I am not so hard to understand."

"Yes, you are. A lesser man would be crushed under your heel."

Louisa choked on a laugh. "Excuse me? You make me sound like a boar."

"Yes," he said with a self-satisfied smile. He removed his hat, tucking it beside him on the seat, his light brown hair still perfectly styled and maintained.

She scoffed, grinning in disbelief as she studied his profile in the dark interior. "And when did you become so cheeky, Your Grace?"

"I'm trying to be . . ." He took a slow breath, turning his face toward her. So much was said without him uttering a word—the lines about his eyes as he studied her, the tenseness of his shoulders, the puckered fabric of his breeches where his fingers pressed into his leg. "I'm trying to let my mask fall. At least with you. Is that all right, Duchess?" His mouth formed a warm smile.

All sensible thoughts fled. Her stomach swirled and her skin flushed as his usually stern face softened in a way that made her blood sing.

"And now," he said, still grinning, "I have rendered you speechless."

"Ah!" She swatted his chest with the back of her hand as she laughed. He chuckled, quickly catching her hand in his grasp and bringing it just in front of his mouth. He paused, hesitating for a brief moment before he pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles. She was mesmerized as his lips slowly dragged across her hand, and she unabashedly leaned closer. And then . . . he did not let it go, keeping her hand in his as he brought them down to his lap.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. "Do you know what I liked most about you?"

Her mind was in a fog. His hand felt too warm and strong as it held hers. This was not how she expected their convenient marriage to be. Yes, she knew a manner of physical affection would exist, but her assumption had been that it would be contained to the bedroom. But casual displays of affection? It felt much too intimate.

She cleared her throat. "When?" The breathlessness of her voice made her want to slap herself.

"Before we married."

"Ha," she said, her tone flat. "You did not like anything about me before we married. We hardly knew one another."

"And why, then, did I ask you ?"

She sat up, leaning forward to look at him. "Because I am outspoken and strong in nature. Someone you thought able to withstand the role of duchess. Those were your own words."

"Yes. I did say that, and I meant it. But I was also intrigued by you. I just couldn't admit it at the time." His thumb caressed her hand, and she fought a chill that ran down her spine.

"No, you were not." Her voice was flat, begging for it to be a lie. He could not have married her for reasons other than convenience. That was what they had agreed upon.

"I was. You always seemed comfortable in your own skin. And as someone who couldn't understand such a feeling, it intrigued me." He shrugged, his eyes slowly opening.

"I would say you feel quite comfortable now," she argued.

"Yes. You seem to have that effect on me."

But his words burned into her mind. He had liked her? Suddenly, her hand in his made her heart race faster. And then he brought her hand up to his lips again and pressed them to her fingers. They were warm and soft, and it made her stupidly wonder what they might feel like placed upon her lips instead.

Robert's hand tightened over hers and he pulled away from his seat, leaning toward her. Everything seemed to slow as her mind rebelled against what was happening. His eyes dropped to her lips and his free hand reached up toward her cheek.

She scrunched her eyes shut, rearing back.

"Ah." His hand froze. After a few tense seconds, he leaned back, gently letting go of her hand and gazing out his window. Just like that, their playful banter was gone, and in its absence was the tangible quiet that she so hated. The sort that filled one's ears and swamped them in misery.

He was changing the rules, and she didn't wish to play the game. For in love, one had to lay their heart on the line. And that was the one thing she would not do. She wanted to be like Jessica, unbothered and heart whole if the inconceivable happened. Why did he have to go and ruin the perfectly lovely evening they had been having?

"Do you know who else will be in attendance tonight?" Robert's soft voice gripped her heart. She preferred when he was the confident man who laughed and teased.

"No. I am not aware of all who are attending."

"I see." He continued to stare out the window.

She scrambled to break the tension between them. Something. Anything . But the rest of the ride was spent in a horrid silence.

Arriving at the Hughes' residence was a most welcome respite. Louisa spent the evening talking with the lady of the house, but her usual playful nature eluded her. She kept stealing glances at Robert, but he had his dukely mask firmly in place, talking with the other gentleman. Lord Hughes searched for a book on the shelf beside them and opened its pages to show something to Robert. He removed his spectacles from his pocket, slipping the temples over his ears as he studied the page held out before him.

Those spectacles would be her undoing. All she could think about now was adjusting them so they sat correctly across his nose, and perhaps her fingers would brush the soft hair above his ear as she did so, causing him to sigh at her touch . . .

Keep it together, Louisa.

"Marriage seems to be agreeing with you," Lady Hughes said, drawing her from her thoughts.

Louisa forced a smile, hoping she wasn't blushing too fiercely. But if the heat in her cheeks was any indication, they were likely flaming. "His grace has been very good to me."

That was true. It was only her smile that was false. Louisa did not like the rift that had formed between them, but she was helpless to know what to do about it. It was as if she were stuck in quicksand. The wrong move would make her sink deeper and deeper. She needed to think of the best route going forward.

If only someone would supply her with the wisdom she needed.

Lady Campbell sat across from Louisa, eyeing the duke. "He is a very striking man. I'm glad he has finally settled down. We were all beginning to wonder if he ever would."

"His mother was pressuring him," Lady Hughes said, leaning toward Lady Campbell. But Louisa did not care about their gossip. She was more intrigued by Lord Griffith as he made his way to her husband. Were they friends? They were of a similar age, but Louisa did not ever remember hearing Robert mention the man.

Lord Griffith drew Robert's attention, shaking his hand in greeting. How odd. Robert did not shake hands. He was a duke. But as he pulled his hand away, Robert palmed a small object and tucked it up into his sleeve.

What in the blazes . . ?

And then, as if he didn't just hand a secret note to her husband, Lord Griffith joined the other men in studying the pages of the unknown book.

"Don't you agree, Your Grace?"

Louisa turned to Lady Campbell. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

Lady Hughes tipped her head back, laughing in delight. "You cannot even keep your eyes off your husband. Oh, to be newlyweds again."

Louisa laughed, but it sounded forced even to her own ears. "Yes, it is certainly something."

"But he is good to you?" Lady Hughes leaned closer, placing a motherly hand on Louisa's skirts.

With this, Louisa did not need to lie. "Yes." She looked at Robert, his face stoic and reserved. So unlike the man who had laughed with her just hours before in the carriage. No smile touched his face as he spoke, his head only dipping in a nod here and there as his finger pressed into his leg. "He is very good to me," she continued. But she needed to speak with him soon and figure out what to do about their physical relationship going forward. Boundaries needed to be put in place to protect herself.

As the evening came to a close, Robert walked over to escort her out to the carriage. "Shall we go home?"

She smiled, placing her hand in his. "Yes. I find I am quite tired. Goodnight, ladies," she said, turning to Lady Hughes and Lady Campbell.

As they walked in silence out to the carriage, Louisa could hardly stand it.

"How was your evening?" she asked, trying to break the tension once they sat inside the carriage.

He gaze shot to the window. "It was how I imagined it would be."

"Which means?" She leaned forward, hoping he might look at her. But why? Why was she trying to coax him out when she was the one who had rebuffed his advances?

"It means I was uncomfortable most of the night. People talked and I answered."

Did she dare broach the subject of Lord Griffith? Perhaps she did not have to ask him outright. If she mentioned seeing them talking, Robert might voluntarily share what the man had slipped into his hand. Though, she quite doubted that would be the way of it.

"I did not know you and Lord Griffith were friends."

"We are."

Her jaw ticked to the side. Apparently, Robert's mask was firmly in place for the evening. "And Lord Hughes? What was he showing you in his book?"

"It was about the process of fermenting port."

Unable to figure out any other way to draw Robert from his shell, the rest of the ride was strained, quiet, and uncomfortable. After Robert escorted her inside, he immediately made his way up the stairs.

Louisa clenched a fist, unable to stop her mouth from running off. "You are wearing your mask again."

He stopped on the stairs, his hand gripping the rail as he slowly turned his head back toward her. "Yes. And what of it?"

Louisa threw her hand toward the Lavender Room. The renovations were not quite finished, but she did not wish to stand in the entry hall with him on the stairs towering over her. His chest rose and fell three times in succession before he finally stepped down and followed her. Once he shut the door behind them, she let her words loose.

"This isn't fair. We agreed on a marriage that benefitted us both, and now you are upset and punishing me."

"Of course not. Why would I do that?" He gave her a sarcastic smile, tilting his head to the side. She almost wished he would don his mask now . Frustrating man. But she would not back down.

"Because I refused your kiss, which is rather juvenile, if you ask me."

He clenched his jaw. "If you do not wish to kiss me, then that is that. But I would certainly not punish you for it."

"Very well. Then what did Lord Griffith hand you this evening?"

With that, he blanched. Clearly, he did not realize she had seen the exchange. "Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes. "I saw it, Robert. And I think you won't tell me because you are upset with me."

His brow pinched, and his mouth fell open. "And you think I would keep things from you based solely on you refusing my advances? The letter is nothing of consequence to you, and it is not only me it would affect if I told you."

She shrugged. "I would keep it a secret."

He jerked his head. "No."

No ? Her stomach roiled and anger bubbled up. "So, you are just going to harbor secrets from me, then?"

He barked out a mirthless laugh, turning his body halfway to the door before spinning back to her. "Me? You are—" He put his fingers to his head, eyes narrowing before throwing his hands up in the air. "You are maddening! You expect me to open up to you and tell you all my secrets when most of the time I don't know what's going through that frustrating head of yours? If you refuse to tell me your secrets, then I will not tell you mine."

"What is on that paper?" She jabbed her finger toward his pocket.

He took three large strides toward her. "Why did you not allow me to kiss you earlier? And do not say it is because you are not attracted to me, because I know that to be a lie."

She scoffed. "So it is about the kiss."

"No, it is more than that." His deep blue eyes stared down at her. "It is your mask that keeps a wall between us. You could tell me why you refused me, but instead you remain silent on the matter and turn the blame upon me. And why should I risk the confidence of others to a woman who asks and takes but gives nothing in return?"

"I had not thought you to be so petty as to hold a refusal of affection over someone's head."

A log popped in the fire, stopping their words and bringing on that hateful, tangible quiet. "Very well," he said, his mask slipping across his face as he took a step back. "If you think that is what this is about, then here. I'm finished with this argument." He tossed the note, and it floated to the floor between them. "Good night." He turned and strode toward the door, his feet clicking off his departure until he swung the door shut behind him.

She stood frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the door. She clutched her throat, her swallows burning as she tried to hold herself together. Finally, once she collected herself, she reached for the paper, her hands trembling as she unfolded it.

All it contained was an address and a time.

What on earth? She was tempted to crumple it and throw it into the fire just to watch something burn. What had all of that even been about? Their argument was a haze as she tried to recollect the words they had spewed at one another. But after she replayed it in her mind, over and over, one thing was clear.

She kept asking things of Robert without offering the same in return. And now she was actively warding him off. Glancing down at the paper in her hands, she knew what she needed to do.

He at least deserved an explanation.