19. Chapter 19

Chapter nineteen

Robert stormed into his room, throwing the door shut behind him. It gave a satisfying crack . He couldn't think straight, so he paced across his room, replaying the argument in his head over and over again.

That had gotten out of hand. But her relentless talk of his so-called mask irked him to no end when she refused to let her own budge a tiny sliver. It was not about her refusal to kiss him, rather he did not understand what she wanted. And when approached about her own hesitancy, instead of explaining herself, she buckled down and asked him about more of his own personal matters.

A knock sounded on his door.

"Not now, Norman," he barked. He needed another ten minutes, at least, before he was ready to have anyone near him.

"It is me." Louisa's small, tentative voice barely made it through his door.

He drew a deep breath, scratching his neck as he leaned his head to the side. "What do you want, Louisa?" If she just wanted to argue some more, he was not in the mood.

"I want to apologize."

His eyes snapped to the door, waiting a good thirty seconds before he finally walked over and opened it, gesturing for her to enter.

Louisa's hands were clasped together, her neck tight before giving a nod and walking into his room. "Thank you." She shut the door behind her before turning to him.

Robert drank her in, her eyes roaming his space as he stared. How did he still find her beautiful even as his anger burned? And then it settled on him.

She was in his room.

"Why are you here, Louisa?"

She kicked her foot on the floor before meeting his eyes. "I already told you. I wish to apologize."

A noble idea, but they needed more. An apology would only get them so far. "I fear an apology will not solve our problems."

"I know." She pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "I wanted to explain myself as well."

Well, that was a welcome surprise. "Very well. Shall we sit?"

She looked around the room again, likely noticing a decided lack of chairs to sit in. "Where?"

"I fear the only place to sit is on my bed." He held his hand out, gesturing for her to make herself comfortable.

She nodded, going to his bed and patting the space beside her. He didn't need convincing. Why not be comfortable if they had a long discussion before them? As soon as he sat, he began unlacing his boots.

"You may begin," he said, keeping his eyes on his laces. While glad she was here to further explain herself, his frustration had yet to abate.

"Would you like the reason or the explanation first?"

He shrugged, slipping off the first boot. He sighed as he released his foot from its fitted confines. "Whichever you wish to give."

"Very well." She fussed with a pin in her hair before letting her hand fall to her lap. "I believe I will start with the explanation first. It may make my reason for the argument seem less . . . cruel."

He undid his other boot, slipping it off with another sigh of relief. "I'm listening." Then he slipped out of his jacket.

"Goodness, how much are you planning to undress?"

He turned and gave her a knowing look. "You have seen me without my jacket before. And I am tired and wish to prepare myself for bed. Please, continue." He laid his jacket out on the bed behind him to keep it unencumbered by wrinkles.

"Very well." She kicked off her slippers, tucking her legs up on his mattress. He could not deny that he enjoyed the look of her in his room, sitting on his bed in the soft glow of the sconces. "In truth, I suppose I am a bit romantically stunted."

"Romantically stunted?" A mirthless laugh slipped out as he crossed his legs in front of him, running a hand through his hair.

Louisa nodded. "It happened after my father died."

Propping his elbows on his knees, he gave her his full attention. "Any particular reason? I understand that death can be difficult, but to make you stunted as you say—"

"It was unexpected." Her amber-kissed eyes trailed up to his face. "My father and I were very close. But to watch my mother mourn him . . . I believe it broke that part of me." She ran her finger over the blanket. "Mother hasn't been the same since, and I promised myself that would never be my fate. If I can avoid such heartbreak, then I would prefer it."

Understanding dawned on him, and he nodded as the words slipped past his lips. "Like Jessica."

Her eyes came to his as she picked at the blanket. "Yes. Precisely."

His stomach sank with dread, like a lead weight falling into the depths of the ocean. Would it ever find purchase and stop its descent? For if what she said was true, then whatever hope he had of winning her affections were slim to nonexistent. All that work taking down his walls, and all for naught. "I see."

"I picked the fight with you earlier because after you tried to kiss me, I—well, it scared me."

He gave his head a resigned shake as he rubbed a hand over his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and hoping he could blot out his stupidity at assuming she desired his kiss in the first place. "It scared me, too. But apparently not for the same reason."

Her hand wrapped around his, causing him to start and open his eyes. The brown of her eyes shimmered. Were there tears there? If so, she blinked them away before they were able to brim over her lower lid. "It is not that I feel nothing for you, Robert. In fact, it is my fear that I might begin to that scared me enough not to kiss you. And it's why I picked the fight earlier. It was easier than speaking my own truth aloud."

"And the truth is you do not want love in our marriage."

She didn't speak, only pulled her lips into her mouth as she nodded her head, looking at the space between them.

He shook his head, staring unseeingly at the bed. "So where does this leave us, Duchess?" He stroked her fingers as his heart thudded dully in his chest. He heard a small sniff, and he dared not look up and meet her eyes.

Louisa cleared her throat. "I think we need only set some boundaries."

"Such as?"

"Well, I think a good start would be to limit all physical matters between us to only the bedroom."

Not surprising after her reaction earlier in the carriage. He glanced up at her. "Very well. Anything else?"

She looked up toward the ceiling as she swirled her finger over the stitching in the quilt. "No, not as of now. That should be sufficient."

He stared at her, the soft light illuminating her beauty in a way that mesmerized him. And truly, according to her rules, he could kiss her now. But it made him feel horrid. He wasn't sure how he would separate his feelings from something that would surely elicit deep emotions and a connection between them. And while she was protecting her heart, in a sense, he had to protect his own as well. If he allowed himself to fall in love with her, truly and deeply, how much heartache would he incur every time she visited his room, only for her to keep her distance the next day?

"Why did you agree to marry me?" The words almost startled him as they slipped from his lips, but his heart had to know. Why did she agree if she had such a fear of love?

"You already asked me that," she said, a sad smile pulling on her lips. The lips he had earlier hoped to kiss, yet now that dream seemed too far away to hope.

"But I have a feeling you did not tell me the true reason." His grip on her hand tightened as if she might suddenly pull away. They were still in his room. According to her specifications, he could at the very least hold her hand.

She dipped her head. "It wasn't a complete lie. The proposal you offered me seemed perfect."

"Ah. And then I changed the rules, as it were."

She lightly bit her lip, nodding as she looked at the small space on the blanket between them.

"But you asked to be my friend," he said.

She scoffed as a disbelieving smile lit her face. "What? And being friends necessitates romance?"

"Well, I am your husband." He forced a smile as he reached forward, gently folding a lock of hair behind her ear. "You know, if you told me these things sooner, it could have saved us some trouble."

Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers curled the hair about her ear, but she shook her head as soon as his touch was gone. "You are correct again. But I had not thought there would be a need. You said this was for convenience only. And it's difficult for me . . . to be forthcoming."

His eyes traced her face. The golden amber that peered out when the light hit her eyes at a certain angle, the slight tilt to her mouth that was hardly ever absent, and her lips—he stopped his thoughts. "I suppose I underestimated the power of your spell."

Louisa's hand came to her mouth, pressing against her lips as she closed her eyes. "You say the sweetest things. I do wish you would stop."

His smile softened. "I will not promise to stop saying kind things to you. But I will make an oath to never kiss you if you do not want it."

"Thank you, Robert. You are too good a man for me."

He held his hand out. "Still friends?"

She laughed, taking it with a shake. "Still friends."

"Now you best leave before your feminine wiles drive me to the end of myself."

"Well, one day I will stay in this room, will I not?"

Ah. An heir. "Let us not discuss that just now." He ran a finger under the collar of his shirt, eliciting a laugh from his wife. "I do not know if I can manage that. We can cross that road when we get there."

Louisa leaned on her palm, relaxing into his bed further. "I did not say we would never kiss. Just not outside of these walls." She glanced about, her eyes taking it all in before returning to settle on him. "It would not be a burden for me, Robert."

"Please." He closed his eyes and held up a hand. "As I said, let us not discuss this now."

He stood, offering a steady hand. Louisa took it, slipping off his bed and following him to the door. The one between their rooms that had yet to be used since they had married. As he opened it, she glanced over her shoulder at him with her chin tucked down. "I really am sorry."

He didn't say a word, only giving a smile that matched his heart. Confused, hurt, and yet, a sliver of hope beat within. A hope that one day she might change her mind. After all, hadn't his heart done the very same thing?