After Louisa had dragged him out of the bedroom, they walked in silence to the stairs. She led him down to the blue salon. Without asking, she went to a cabinet, retrieved a brandy bottle and poured out a glass, offering it to him.
He stepped forward to take it, then looked at her white face, handed it back to her and poured out a second glass for himself.
‘I do not drink spirits,’ she said, staring down at it.
‘This is a day for something stronger than lemonade,’ he said, and took a sip, staring down into the glass. Then he spoke the words that were still echoing in his mind. ‘He said no.’
‘He does that frequently,’ she said matter-of-factly, as if it did not surprise her at all.
‘Perhaps,’ he replied. ‘But I did not think he would say it to me.’ He had made so many plans before coming here. But none of them had accounted for failure. ‘No one has ever done that to me before.’ Even if it was true, it sounded petulant. Childish. He winced.
Louisa shrugged and said, ‘Well, you are a duke. There are not many men who have the authority to refuse you.’
‘Not today, I wasn’t.’ He’d gone into that room assuming a prestigious title would not be necessary to win over the old man. Even without it, he had good looks and charm. And he’d given Tom Smith sufficient money to cover the deficiency of rank. This interview should have been straightforward. ‘I was wrong,’he said gruffly. It was not quite an apology, but he could not manage that, just yet.
She offered him a sympathetic smile. ‘We should not have been surprised, really.’ She took a small sip of her brandy, then set it aside. ‘It was not your fault.’
That he had failed. Why would she not just say it? Or even, ‘I told you so.’ Because she had. And then, he’d disappointed her. The feeling twisted inside him like a knife. ‘His refusal makes no sense. He sent you to London with the express purpose of finding a husband. You did exactly as he wished.’
‘Well.’ She looked away again, fumbling with her glass. ‘It is not as if anyone thought I would succeed.’
‘Nonsense, Louisa,’ he said quickly. ‘I always assumed you would find someone, eventually.’
She took another sip from her glass and stared at the floor. ‘It has been three years. Even Percy had given up on me.’
‘It was well past time, then,’ Thomas said, hating to see her so dejected. ‘Your grandfather should have been expecting it would happen, this year.’
‘I know what you are trying to do,’ she said. ‘It is very kind, but I would prefer that we be honest with each other. We have all given up,’ she said, the words tumbling out as if she was stating an unfortunate truth. ‘I mean,’ she looked up again and gestured to herself awkwardly. ‘Look at me.’
He did, enjoying the excuse to stare at her in a way that would never have been proper, had he done it in public. He started at her blue kid slippers, skimmed her trim figure and smart blue gown, lingering only a moment on her curves before stopping to smile at her face. ‘What, exactly, am I supposed to see?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I am not the sort of woman one marries.’ Then, she laughed as if she expected him to see the joke and join her in her mirth.
‘I see nothing funny about the idea that you will marry,’ he said and gave her a stern look until her laughter died away. ‘I am sure there is a man who will suit you, should you wish to wait for him.’
‘He has taken his own time about showing up,’ she said, with the belligerence of someone enjoying her first brandy. ‘Or perhaps he has been and gone, having no desire to burden himself with such a bore.’
He frowned, confused. ‘You think that this is in some way your fault?’
‘Well, obviously,’ she said, giving him an incredulous look as if he was somehow missing the obvious. ‘I am clumsy and ungainly. Dull. Stupid…’
‘Balderdash!’
He had spoken too loudly again. Her head snapped around to check that the door was closed. Then she glanced up at the ceiling as if waiting for the thump of a cane. When nothing came, she turned back to him with a warning glare.
‘If I have stopped you from abusing yourself, it was worth any trouble I caused,’ he said. Then he softened his tone and his expression. ‘There is nothing wrong with you, beyond a little shyness. Absolutely nothing that would put a fellow off if he took the proper time to get to know you. If the men of London have not realised it by now, it is their loss, not yours. And as for your looks?’ He stopped for breath. ‘You are the most attractive girl I know.’
‘I?’ She gave him a baffled look. Then she shook her head. ‘I have been told,’ she said stiffly, ‘that I am plain and graceless and should be lucky for the charity I will receive when I stop wasting money in London.’
‘And who told you such things?’ Thomas said gently. ‘Your grandfather, I suppose? The same man who just denied you his permission to marry.’
She nodded slowly.
‘He has been filling your mind with nonsense for years. I suppose each time you were unsuccessful, he blamed you.’
‘Well…’ Her lip trembled, as if she was caught between confusion and tears.
Dear God, do not let her cry. He felt helpless enough for failing her. He did not think he could stand it if she cried. But she needed to see the truth. ‘Has he ever given you any approval when you succeeded at things?’
