Chapter 6

Arriving at the London townhouse, with the rain carriage still misted by the rain that had fallen almost minutes after leaving the manor house, Louisa handed her coat off to the butler and plucked her gloves off as she headed upstairs.

Julius was a few steps behind her and at the landing, she turned to him, not so much deterred by his stoic expression as before.

"If you are staying the night again… may I suggest that you stay in the marital bedroom, with me?"

He shook his head. "Not this time, Louisa."

Annoyance sat heavily on her face. "Shall I see you at supper?"

"Yes," he stepped away and Louisa spotted an odd tightness around his eyes. Was he completely fatigued or was he worried? "I will see you then."

To her dismay, Julius did not join her for supper, adding another hollow to the crater peppering Louisa's heart. She picked through her supper, succulent meat pies and wine in solemn solitude while her eyes kept flickering to the doorway, hoping Julius would come.

He never did.

Miriam came. "Would you like to retire now, Your Grace?"

She looked at the door. "I'll give him another few minutes."

Curtsying, Miriam replied. "Yes, Your Grace."

A quarter hour passed, leading to a half, and when it became three-quarters, Louisa grew annoyed again; blew out the candle and retiring to her bedchamber, she shed the wrapper and slid into bed.

Slipping between the sheets, she thought of Julius and wondered why had not joined her that night.

Despite her annoyance, she felt a stir of pity. Julius had not had it easy and as much as he had told her, she suspected there was much more he had not said.

She dozed off to an uneasy half-sleep, tossing and turning this way and that, her ephemeral dreams held a vague sense of fear to but the reason never materialized.

An external stimulus drew her out of her sleep and faintly, she heard footsteps getting closer and closer. The steps were pausing now, outside the door. It felt like an eternity before the door was pushed in and the shadowed figure standing there, holding a blanket and pillow, had her breath racing in and out of her lungs.

Forcibly, she held her composure and feigned sleep as Julius came closer and stopped. He gazed at her and though the tiny sliver her eyes were, she saw indecisiveness mark his face.

He stepped away and silently crossed around to the other side of the bed, one near the corners instead of the doorway, spread the blanket on the floor, dropped the pillow and laid down there instead.

Her heart squeezed tight. What did that mean? Was he trying to make up for missing supper? She forced her eyes closed and sucked in measured breath, telling herself to ask him about by daylight…but my morning, he was gone.

As he stepped in, Julius knew Louisa was awake, but as she feigned sleep, he left it alone and moved to the other side of the bed. If she did demand an answer as to why he was there, Julius had nothing to give her.

Guilt was sour in his stomach on how he had missed supper, but as much as he expected her to understand he had fallen asleep, he did not want to tell her about the haunting nightmare he'd had. About the musket he thought he'd had in his hand aimed at an enemy soldier but behind him…another one of his men.

He had shot one of them—but Devil it take, he was not sure who had been hit.

It had taken him longer than he cared to admit on banishing the bloody scenes from behind his eyes. But why had he chosen to slip into Louisa's room like a thief in the night? He couldn't answer.

An apology for missing supper?

"I am sorry," he said to the silence.

He knew if she did not understand or mirror his desires, there would be no future for them—and he would be damned if he would disrespect her by keeping their marriage intact and finding lovers. He would not become his father.

Was it better to tell her or show her what I like? Perhaps both? But she is so innocent, and those clubs are very wicked.

As the room was deathly quiet, Julius heard Louisa's breathing even out and knew she had fallen into a deep sleep. Rising from the floor, he neared the edge of the bed, and with the flickering firelight he admired her sleeping profile.

Her lashes were lush dark fans against her honey-toned cheeks, her fine-boned features soft and sweetly relaxed. A sound escaped from her rosy lips: a half-sigh, half-moan, it was as adorable as it was tempting.

"You are everything good and pure and innocent. Whereas I ..." His shoulders sunk as if he carried the weight of the world there. "I am what life has twisted me into."

Julius' hand inched to trace over the sweet dip of her nipped-in waist to the even sweeter flare of her hip. She did not know, but he was attracted to her curvaceous figure, but the nightgown was something from two centuries earlier and was an atrocity.

It was lumpy, shapeless, voluminous nightgown with the regiment of pearl buttons guarding her bosom like a battalion of soldiers.

"One day, we're going to have a talk about these nightgowns," he slid to his makeshift bed and tried to sleep.

By dawn, he was washed and dressed, and found the breakfast room and looked out into the decent plot of land beyond the house, the empty green expanse.

Something in his chest twisted as he brushed the foolish thought away. Cursing, he rubbed a hand over his face before slipping it into his hair.

It's impossible for me to bring such innocent lives into the world with the guilt I am carrying.

"Good morning, Your Grace. I am pleased to see you again. How may I help you?"

Julius calmed the instant fighting reaction that was embedded inside his bones from sneak attacks during the war. He turned and found Mr. Gregory, the butler for the house, bowing.

"I am pleased to be here. A cup of coffee, Gregory," Julius requested, then added, "How has Louisa gone on for the past year?"

"May I speak freely about my observations, Your Grace?" Gregory asked.

"Please."

"At the beginning, she went on well," Gregory said calmy as he went to the sideboard and made the cup, "but as the months went on, she grew distant, very displaced and shuttered."

"Did she have any guests? Friends?" he asked, brows furrowing.

As the butler made to reply, Louisa's calm voice cut in, "I wouldn't say that."

Immediately, Gregory bowed and greeted her, and she said to him, "Please excuse us, Gregory. I need a private moment with my husband."

Silently, Julius noted the robe, a pale wrap with an abundance of ribbons and flounces and other embellishments that did nothing for her figure. When Gregory left, she took the seat across from him and begun.

"What were you truly asking Gregory?" she asked, and Julius cocked his head.

"If you had any friends, acquaintances, maybe a bosom friend from before we were married that came to see you," he replied.

"I have a friend," she interjected, unusually calmly. "But you were trying to fetter out if I had lovers, Julius. Please don't insult my intelligence."

He sat back in his chair. "I was not."

She pressed her lips tight, "Were you hoping I would have? It is grounds for divorce."

"You won't believe me but no," Julius replied. "I may not know you as I should, but I do know you are not that sort of person. You are not unfaithful, and you do not have a spiteful bone in your body."

"I have a friend," Loisa admitted, "Her name is Prudence Coltrane or rather, daughter of Earl Hamilton. We know each other from the schoolroom, and she does visit me from time to time, or when she decided to take a break from her travels, that is.

As for the rest, they are the ones that come around are only do so for courtesy's sake and even there, they offer backhanded compliments and fish for gossip."

A maid came in and made his coffee and her tea before departing. Instead of reaching for the cup, Julius laid both forearms on the table and met her eyes. "We need to have a direct and uncomfortable conversation."

"About last night?" she asked.

He looked around and face twisted into a grimace. "This is not the best place to have this conversation, Louisa. Come with me, we're going to the library."

Her brows furrowed. "Why?"

Pushing his chair away, he replied. "Because, just like two nights ago, it is the most neutral room in this house," he pulled her chair and extended a hand. "Please."

While she sat nearby a window with a heavy velvet drape drawn, Julius paced a little. He could feel her curious gaze on him but did not want to meet it until he had summoned the proper words.

Earlier he had decided not to tell her but now— if they were to make this marriage work, eventually they would fall into bed, and he could not take Louisa by surprise… or horror.

Stopping, he braced his back on a bookcase and began, "During my years in Oxford I realized…my sexual appetite strayed from the norm, that my desires made me an unsuitable husband for any well-bred lady."

Louisa's eyes widened and she clenched her fingers on her lap. "W-what do you mean?"

"I feel the need to always be in control of the encounter," Julius admitted. "Submission and obedience are the things that light my blood afire. It involves dominance on my part and acquiescence on the other, to do what I want, and how I want to bring out mutual pleasure.

"I know it is something that other people take as deviancy and astray from the norm but… before the wars, I had not explored the urge as deeply as I have after it. I found those secular clubs in London to appease his hot-blooded nature without anyone getting hurt. It turns out I was not the anomaly I thought I was."

Her eyes flew to him, accusatorily, "So you did break our vows and have affairs."

"No, an affair would me an emotional entanglement, the ones I had were purely transactional. At the end, he made sure we both walk away fulfilled, the beast inside him sated and their coffers full of money."

"I—" her gaze dropped to her lap. "—I cannot picture what you mean. The best I can conjure is a depraved sexual game with… lurid prostitutes."

"It's not," he said, while tossing a few ideas though his mind. "Would it be better if I showed you than just telling you? You choose."

"Where then?" she asked, her brows furrowing.

He caged her chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his darkened gaze. She shivered. "Somewhere in London you have never stepped a foot in this evening," Julius decided, "I will explain while we are on the way. Get dressed while I go off for a few hours. We'll be out tonight."

"Where?" she asked.

"Don't worry, Louisa," he assured her. "Please, trust me."

"Confounded man," Louisa grumbled while sorting through the array of dresses on her bed, "He could not be any more enigmatic if he tried and he is already so emotionless as it is, wouldn't that be a feat?"

"Your Grace?" Miriam came in, "Do you need my assistance?"

"I—" Louisa looked around the room at the gowns strayed everywhere. "I need something to wear that is not eye-drawing but not overly dull either. I think Julius needs me to…" she huffed out a breath and sunk into a curricle chair near a window. "…zounds, I don't know what he needs me to do. I don't even know where we are going or when."

"Hm, it seems like he wants you to be unnoticeable," Miriam replied.

"Me, unnoticeable," Louisa shook her head. "It is as believable as asking me to fetch cheese from the moon."

Her maid stepped inside wardrobe and pulled out a green gown, the color mild and easily overlooked. She entered the wardrobe and removed a box from a shelf. Tugging a blue-black domino from the box, she laid it next to a dark blue dress.

"These might work in case you do leave this evening," Miriam replied. "Did His Grace request jewelry?"

"No," Louisa replied.

"Well, I hope these can be sufficient," the lady-maid curtsied. "Please call for me if you need assistance dressing."

"Thank you," Louisa nodded. "That will be all."

When she went off, unmoored questions ran through her mind any answers to anchor them, she felt decidedly— and uneasily— unstable. What was Julius planning? What was he going to show her?

She shook her head and rested her head on the cold windowsill and waited for him to return.