30. Chapter 30

Chapter thirty

Louisa sipped her tea, avoiding her mother's gaze. They hadn't spoken of the reason for her visit, but after two weeks, it seemed to raise her mother's suspicions.

"So, Louisa, how has the duke's behavior been since marriage? Is he the same in private as in public?"

Louisa let out a startled laugh. "Goodness, Mother. I had not realized it was you I inherited my loose tongue from."

"Well, it certainly wasn't from your father," she said with a smile.

It had been difficult to keep Robert from her thoughts, and her mother's reminder was not helping matters. But Louisa was determined to stay here until she could forget these feelings. Feelings left one susceptible to heartbreak, and heartbreak could break someone. Her reasoning still stood. She would not let herself fall victim to them.

"What is wrong, Louisa?" her mother asked, her brow lowering. "You have not been yourself since you arrived. I assume something is amiss at home?"

Louisa's throat tightened, but she swallowed another swig of tea to force it open. "Nothing is amiss. I only missed you, Violet, Henry, and Colin. I had said you would be sick of me, hadn't I?"

Her mother ran her finger along the rim of her cup. "You are lying, Louisa."

Louisa shook her head, looking down at her lap. Frustration seeped into her. "Very well. Let me ask you a question, then." She lifted her gaze. "Was it worth it?"

Her mother tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Loving Father." Louisa swallowed again. "Instead of the normal marriage of the ton where one only tolerates the other. Was it worth loving him? Even after he . . . passed." She couldn't meet her mother's eyes, so she stared down at the swirl of cream in her cup instead.

Louisa felt a soft weight press into the seat beside her. "Louisa," her mother said softly, pulling Louisa's chin to look at her. "Do you love the duke?"

The choking sensation returned, and her eyes burned. "I do not want to." She sniffed.

"But why, dear? Does he not feel the same?"

"He does." Louisa glanced about the room, unable to bear her mother's vulnerable gaze. "But I do not want it. I only wanted convenience. Why did he have to complicate things with love? Feelings are messy. One cannot—"

"Control them?"

With this, her eyes snapped back. Age had been kind to her mother, even if Louisa could see the dark circles beneath her eyes from nights without enough sleep.

When she didn't respond, her mother continued. "Louisa, do you think I regret loving your father?"

"No, of course not." Her voice pinched as emotions clawed their way to the surface. "But perhaps if you hadn't loved him so deeply, it would have been easier to bear."

She clasped Louisa's hand. "I would not give up those years with your father for anything. They keep me company during my lonely nights. They fill my memories and bring me smiles. Now," she said, pulling her hand back, "I will admit it was not always that way. At first, the memories brought pain. And while I still miss him tremendously, it's different now." A bird sang outside the open window, and her mother watched it in silence for a moment. "I cannot make you do anything, Louisa. But please do not close yourself off to happiness simply because you fear losing something. That will make for a very dull life indeed. I would much rather sit here with all the love in my heart than to look back and have nothing to miss."

"But I'm scared," Louisa whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "When Father died, it was like our whole world ended. I do not know if I can go through that again. If I could only get a hold of my feelings—control what I allow in my heart—could I not rise above that pain?"

And then her mother laughed, smiling before turning sad eyes back to Louisa. "Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. Control is only an illusion. And it seems to me you've already given your heart away. Why not give in and see what joy life has for you, hm? Why, look at me now." She gestured to the room around them. "I have two grown children who still come to me and talk about their lives, a grandson who adores me, and a daughter-in-law that is sweetness itself. My life is still happy, Louisa. Because I let love conquer the darkness."

And then Louisa's walls broke. Tears brimmed over her lower eyelid, and she pressed her brow against her mother's shoulder, weeping like a small child who needed comfort.

"Shhhh," the dowager consoled, gently rocking and rubbing her back. "It will be all right. It is not too late." She kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly until Louisa's tears finally dried up.

Louisa straightened, wiping her cheek. "I suppose I have some groveling to do, don't I?" She sniffled.

"I do not think it will take too much groveling. Men are quicker to forget offenses than we are." Her mother smiled, wiping a tear-soaked strand of hair back from Louisa's cheek. "Especially once you learn the art of using our feminine wiles."

Louisa laughed into her handkerchief as she mopped her face. Staring down at it, she was reminded of her boxing lesson with Robert, and the way he was hesitant to touch her. How far they had come in a few short months. He let her into his walls and only wanted her to do the same for him. And now, she finally had hope that she could. It wouldn't be easy or comfortable, but with time, she could let him in.

Louisa was broken from her thoughts as rushed footsteps sounded in the hall.

"Whatever is that?" the dowager asked, leaning back to see the door.

After a moment, Violet appeared, her chest heaving as she rushed toward them with a paper in hand. "Louisa, you need to see this." She shoved the paper toward her.

"Violet, what is the matter?"

"Look at the front page."

Louisa did as she was told, and immediately she saw it. Peers turned Pugilists . She put a hand to her mouth. "Robert."

"What?" her mother asked, leaning over to see. "I do not understand. What is this about?"

"How did they find out?" Louisa asked aloud.

"Violet," her mother said, turning to her for answers as Louisa scoured the paper for more details.

"It appears the duke was involved in some sort of secret boxing ring," Violet said.

"Boxing ring?" The dowager sounded more perplexed than anything. "I can hardly believe it. Why would a duke be involved in such a thing?"

"It is something he enjoys," Louisa said distractedly as her eyes flew over the words. It appeared that some sloppily placed bets made people suspicious, causing tongues to wag and resulting in the boxing ring being discovered. "Oh, Robert." She closed her eyes. He was all alone. The man who hated to be the center of attention, yet was forced into it because of his station in life, was now on the front page of likely every newspaper around. The one thing that had been his passion was now to be ripped from him.

And she wasn't there to help.

"When was this?" Louisa asked aloud, looking at Violet.

"The paper was printed today, but as we are outside of London, the article seems to be several days after the fact."

"Several days?" Louisa stood, throwing the paper back onto the chair.

Violet wrung her hands together. "What are you going to do?"

Louisa stopped midway to the door, hand to the frame. "I'm going home to be with my husband."

Louisa put her hand on the door handle as Henry's carriage came rolling to a stop in front of Stonemoore. Before the coachman could even get down from his seat, she had the door flung open and was rushing toward the front steps. As she feared, reporters were swarming about, waiting for a chance to see Robert and pelt him with questions. Louisa pushed her way through, ignoring the voices as she made her way to the door.

Brooks opened the door after she knocked again and again. His eyes widened, and he immediately ushered her inside.

"Your Grace," he said with a bow. "I had not expected you."

"Yes, I know. My trunk is still in the carriage outside if you could have someone fetch it."

"Of course."

"And where is his grace?"

"I believe he is upstairs in his room."

"In the middle of the day?" Surprise tinted her voice. She assumed he would have been busy in his office, trying to work his feelings away.

She rushed up the stairs, making it to the third floor slightly out of breath, and when she arrived at his door, she gave a quick knock before letting herself in.

Instead of Robert sitting down with a book or lying in bed as she had imagined, he was throwing his fists into a sandbag, stripped down to his breeches as sweat poured down his face. His concentration was fierce, his eyes fixated on the heavy bag while his fists repeatedly pounded into it.

"Robert?" she whispered.

His fists stopped and his head jerked toward her. It was as if he could not register that she was there, and he only stared for a moment before his brow rose. "Louisa," he said, his words strained.

Louisa glanced about the room, running a hand along her arm. This was his space, and she suddenly felt as if she were intruding. The confidence she felt as she ran up the stairs vanished, and timidity took over. "Are you all right, Robert? I saw the paper . . ."

"Ah." His face fell. "So that's why you are here." He glanced back at the sandbag, throwing his fist into it half-heartedly. "Griffith apparently made some ill-concealed bets, and we were found out." Another punch into the bag. "And then I found out he was having a secret relationship with my sister, of all things." His fist smacked into the bag with full force, causing the cords in his neck to bulge.

Guilt washed over her. Robert had had to battle through all of this on his own for days while she was unaware in Tunbridge. All because she wanted to stop loving this wonderful man. How stupid and dense she had been.

She took a half-step toward him. "I'm so sorry, Robert. Truly I am. I wish I had been here to help."

He glanced at her, his eyes hesitant. "Is that so?"

"Yes." She nodded, swallowing past a growing lump in her throat, then took a quivering breath. "And I also wanted to tell you . . ." She paused and swiped at the corner of her eye, all while Robert watched her intently. "That I've changed my mind," she said more forcefully. Goodness, where were these theatrics coming from?

Robert's eyes traced over her, his uncertainty clear as he stayed where he was. "In what way?"

She stopped for a breath. "In that I love you . . . and I've come home."

Robert's eyes fluttered closed, and he pressed his brow to the bag as he gripped it to steady himself. His chest heaved once before he pushed back, then rushed over to her and pulled her close as his hands wrapped about her waist, drawing her to him. In a moment, his lips found hers, kissing her with unrelenting joy and agony. She watched him for a moment, his eyes pressed shut as he tipped his head this way and that, kissing her from every imaginable angle as if he was not sure she was real and might dissipate without a moment's notice.

She had once done that very thing. But never again. While still afraid of what hurt might come one day, she was choosing to push past her fear and live her life. Their life.

Just as she closed her eyes to enjoy the bliss of his kisses, he pulled back.

"I'm sorry. I'm a mess." He looked down at himself.

She only shook her head, pulling him back to her and kissing him again. His hair was damp about his neck, his body warm from exercise, but she didn't care. This was the man who had torn down his walls for her, and she wouldn't dare allow him to erect those very walls again.

Robert came back, pressing his brow to hers. "I cannot believe this is real. That you are here." His hands roved over her hair, neck, shoulders, and back as if to assure himself.

She traced a finger down his chest. Her breath quivered as she inhaled. "I'm still scared, Robert."

He pressed a kiss to her brow. "It's all right to be scared, Louisa. It's how we choose to navigate that fear that matters."

She wove her fingers into his hair. "If only you weren't so loveable, Your Grace."

"Loveable, am I? You think you know me so well?" There was a grin in his voice.

"Yes. I know you." She toyed with the back of his hair. "A man who appears crusty to the world but has the softest and warmest center I could ever imagine. A man who likes to take naps, has a clever tongue, is willing to learn new things, and can love deeper than anyone I have ever met. Who either falls asleep reading with my dog in his lap—glasses lopsided and falling off his face—or opens his windows to listen to the soothing wind outside."

Robert nuzzled his nose into her hair and took a deep breath. "Tell me again. Tell me this is real."

She smiled, pulling back to look him in the eye as she placed her hands against his cheeks. "This is very real. As is my love for you."

He closed his eyes, pressing his mouth against her brow. "Say it again," he murmured against her skin.

His need for assurance made regret pool in her stomach for all she had put him through. But she was more than happy to put his worries to rest. "I love you, Robert."

"Louisa," he said, her name a prayer on his lips, "I love you so much—I do not even know how to put it into words." He trailed a finger down her cheek. "It's like an ache inside of me."

"Well, that doesn't sound very pleasant," she said, laughing. "I hope over time it forms into a more enjoyable feeling."

"I wouldn't trade this feeling for the world."

She blinked up at him, fluttering her lashes dramatically. "Now kiss me, Your Grace." She leaned her face closer. "And please, take your time about it."

His blue eyes lit as he raised an amused brow, grinning down at her. "How could I say no to that?"

They stood in his room, kissing for what could have been minutes or hours. She hardly knew. All she was sure of was that she had not felt this happy or free in years.

So she let him kiss her.

The End