26. Chapter 26

Chapter twenty-six

Louisa took a breath, trying to wake for the day, but her mind was muddled. She reached a hand out to pull the bed's blanket up to her chin, but it could not find purchase. What was happening? She tried to turn, but two solid objects held her in place. And then one of the objects moved.

She froze.

Louisa's eyes flew open to see Robert's face in front of her, peaceful and relaxed as he dozed. She was tucked between the back of the chaise and his solid form. He had an arm draped over her side, cradling her to his chest. And then memories flooded back to her—flickers of images flashing through her mind. Robert kissing her in the carriage, carrying her to the house, bringing her to his library. And at the end of it all, spent from the long day, they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.

Panic seized her, and she did her best to slip herself from Robert's arms, but she had to crawl over his sleeping form to free herself, and in doing so, he began to stir again.

He rubbed his face, rolling over on the chaise until he faced outward. There were small creases on his cheek where the bunched leather had imprinted itself. And then his eyes opened, settling on her, their color as deep a blue as the seas on a stormy night. They lit up at the sight of her.

She felt her heart crack.

A warm smile spread across his sleep-etched face. He seemed so happy, so content, so pleased to see her and to remember and relive what had happened.

She felt guilt roil within her, twisting her stomach.

"Louisa," he mumbled, pushing himself into the back of the sofa until there was an empty space in front of him. He patted it, beckoning her over, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"I'm not tired," she said, ready to escape. "I think I will go and freshen up."

He propped himself on his elbow. "How did you sleep?"

Wonderfully. But she wasn't going to admit to him that it was the best night of her entire life. Especially when she planned to retreat to her room as soon as possible. "I slept fine."

"Good." Nodding, he sat up, stretching his arms over his head as he let out a yawn. "Come back here." He patted the seat beside him again.

She shook her head. "I really should be getting on with my day. I am a duchess, you know. Much to be done." She forced a smile, and as she did so, his own faded from his face.

"Ah." He rubbed a hand across his eyes, still waking up from his slumber. "I see."

"It is nothing, really. I had only told Mrs. Powell that I would go over the details for dinner this week."

"And that must be done now? What time is it?" He turned to look at the clock over the mantel.

Louisa could see it herself, and it was seven in the morning. They usually did not even leave their beds for breakfast until nearly ten.

He clutched the edge of the chaise, looking at the floor between his feet. "This is how it's going to be, then?"

"We must eat, mustn't we?" she asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

He shook his head, bracing his elbows on his knees as he cradled his brow. "I had thought that maybe I had convinced you. That maybe you would . . . let me in." He sighed, scrubbing his face again before glancing up at her. "Why did I do that? I am a fool, apparently. A lovesick, hopeful fool."

Lovesick. The word reverberated in her ears.

She swallowed, forcing her emotions back. "No, you aren't a fool. I only need to get on with my day."

"At seven in the morning?" He jerked a thumb toward the clock. "You are running, Louisa, and I should have known it was coming."

"I'm not—"

He stood, walking over to her and stopping her words before she could even figure out what she wanted to say.

"Not what?" He stared down at her, his hair mussed and his shirt unbuttoned. Goodness, had she done that?

Her face flamed—and that flame flickered in her chest until she felt anger rise in its place. Robert knew she didn't want that type of relationship, and now he was throwing it back at her as if she was to blame. He was getting what he wanted with little to no thought about her own desires.

"I'm only doing what I told you long ago. I am being your wife and attending to my duties."

"Your duties? Blast your duties, Louisa!"

"Excuse me?" Her voice rose to match the burning within her. "That is why you married me, if you remember. You asked that I do the duties of a duchess, and that is what we agreed upon. My heart was never to be on the table. I didn't ask you to change your mind or what you wanted from me. You changed." She shoved a finger at his chest. "You changed the rules, and I am not interested in the game you want to play."

Robert's face softened with a wince, and he looked at the floor. "I don't know what happened when we married, but I know I would go to hell and back for you, Duchess."

She felt her tether snap. "Stop calling me that!" She put her hands to her head, trying to settle herself. This was all wrong. Last night was a mistake. She could see that now. But at that moment, she had been tired. Tired of trying to barricade herself from him, tired from the long day walking the streets, tired of pretending she did not care about him. She now realized how stupid she had been, for she had the misconception that keeping a physical barrier between them would somehow keep her from falling in love. The kiss itself was not what had caused her heart to betray her. Rather, their kiss was a product of feelings she already had.

Louisa took a tremulous breath. "I wasn't supposed to like you," she said, tears threatening the backs of her eyes. "You were sullen and quiet and serious."

"Am I not those things now?" He took a small step toward her.

"With others, yes. But when it is just the two of us—" Her breath hitched. "When it is just the two of us," she began again, swallowing and controlling her voice more carefully, "you are so much more. You smile and laugh with me. You say and do the sweetest things, which I do not deserve."

"And why do you feel you do not deserve them?"

She pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Because I do not want them."

He took her hand, caressing it with his strong fingers. "Help me understand. Please. For right now, I simply cannot make sense of it. You love your family. You love your dog ," he said, spitting out the word. "But you cannot love me?"

Louisa swallowed again, trying to keep her composure, loath to cry. She swiped a hand in the air. "That's different."

"How?" he bit out.

"You want to know the reality of loving someone? Fine." She drew in another breath. "I watched my father slowly die, my heart shattering piece by piece, day by day. And at the end of it all, the few battered pieces that remained were dulled as I watched my mother retreat into herself—closing herself away in her room, unable to face the day without him by her side. That is what love gets a person." She took a deep breath. "And it scares me."

Robert took a step closer. "Do you know what scares me, Louisa? That one day I will die, and you won't shed a single tear. How's that for irony? We fear the opposite ends of the same problem. To care or not to care. Which hurts us more in the end? To live a life without love, a heart so hardened that it goes on as it always has. Or,"—he took her chin in his hand—"live life to the fullest, enjoying every moment with a heart so open that it keeps expanding and growing."

His thumb brushed just beneath her lip, and her eyes fluttered closed. "But what if, at the end of it all, we break?" Her words came out as a whisper, unable to keep her voice even anymore.

"At least you have those memories to hold on to forever. I don't know about you, but I would rather have the latter. I choose you. I choose us, Louisa."

She pinched her mouth shut. His words should have been a balm to her aching heart, but all it did was cause a war within her.

"I think I should leave." Robert's words startled her eyes open.

"Leave? The house?" She cleared her throat, then looked at the floor—anything to not have to stare into his eyes. "Very well. If you feel that is best."

"Aren't you going to ask me why?"

No. She didn't think she could handle knowing why. "Fine." She swallowed, taming the ache in her throat. "Why are you leaving?"

He tipped her chin up so she had to look into his eyes. "Because if I leave, you might find you miss me. And if you do—perhaps that will be enough for me."

He leaned closer, softly pressing his lips to hers. She melted into him for the briefest of moments before she put her hand to his chest and gently pushed him back.

"I can't do this." Louisa couldn't bear any more of his sweet kisses when she was actively trying to ward him off. Tears pricked her eyes, but she pinched her lids shut, successfully sending them back to where they belonged. Where no one could see them. When she was assured she would not cry, she fixed her gaze back on him.

Robert lifted his head, putting a small bit of space between them. He was not going to let this go. He was not willing to give up on them, and she didn't have the strength to keep fighting. She was tired. Bone deep. Soul deep.

"I'm willing to wait." His deep voice caressed her in waves, begging to coax the tears from her eyes that she was trying desperately to keep contained.

She brought a hand to her throat, cradling it to hide her hard swallows as she attempted to remain in control of her emotions. "Please, Robert. Please don't do this."

"Leave?" He watched her from beneath his lowered brow as his hand found her waist. "I don't have to."

Louisa gave her head a quick shake. "No. You don't have to chase me. I don't require your love."

"You may not require it, but you already have it."

That was the last straw. Her eyes fluttered closed, but not in time to stop a single tear from slipping past her barrier, gliding down her cheek. A hot streak of betrayal was left in its wake, revealing feelings she desperately wished to bury.

Robert's warm palm cradled her face as his thumb gently swiped the salty tear away. "I'm sorry I pushed you. I will wait, Louisa. We have our entire lives ahead of us, do we not?"

She inhaled a quivering breath. "If we are lucky. Not everyone has a long life ahead of them. Fate can be a cruel mistress."

"Or . . ." Robert's hand slid down her neck, shoulder, arm, until he took her hand in his. "Perhaps fate has other plans for us."

Her throat strained as she held in a sob, forcing a soothing, shuddering breath before speaking. "I think I need to go to my room." Her words came out in a rush, her voice barely audible as she tried to say the words before the inevitable happened.

Robert took another step back, dipping his head. "If you believe that is what you need to do, then go. I—I won't push you anymore."

She spun about and practically ran to her room, throwing the door closed behind her.

And then Louisa curled up on top of her bed . . . and wept.