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“Trust me...”
His voice faded as the horses walked down the alleyway. This was dreadful. Her sister and mother had no idea she had even left the ball. They would be worried sick! She wasn’t confident where she was going.
But with Simon, and she suspected Ainsley, involved it must be to Harry’s home.
She tapped her fingers on the seat until they finally arrived at the large, brick town home in Grosvenor Square. Twice the size of the other homes on the street, the house exuded ducal ownership. What was all the subterfuge about tonight? When the door to the carriage opened, she expected to see the driver, or even Jenkins standing there ready to assist her.
“I am very glad you came tonight,” Harry said softly, extending his arm to her.
“Yes, well, your brother did not give me much choice in the matter,” she retorted, taking his arm.
“I did try to call on you, but you were not at home.”
She shrugged. “Did you expect a warm welcome?”
He released a low laugh as they walked inside. “Hardly.”
“Good evening, Jenkins,” she said with a nod.
The old butler gave her a nod. “Good evening, Miss Drake.”
“I do hope you will note that I was invited tonight, Jenkins.” She gave the butler a wink.
“Duly noted, Miss Drake.”
Harry led her to the family salon on the first floor. Smaller and much more welcoming than the larger receiving room, she’d never been in here before now. Blue damask chairs sat near the fireplace for conversation while two cream sofas were meant for larger groups. He brought her to the chairs.
The safe option. Here they would be close but still separated by the short distance between the chairs. Louisa sat as a shiver raced across her body. Not an overly cool night, she wondered what brought about the nervous energy in her. She glanced at the table in front of them. He’d thought of everything. The table was laden with tea, brandy, cakes, biscuits, a variety of cheese, bread, and meats.
“What is this about, Harry?”
Harry followed her line of vision. “I assumed supper hadn’t been called for yet, and you might be hungry.”
He did know her too well, she thought. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for some bread and cheese. “But I doubt you dragged me out of the ball just to feed me.”
He poured a brandy and looked over at her. She nodded. He handed her the snifter and poured one for himself.
“I wanted to apologize and clear the air for that mess at Worth. I shouldn’t have become so defensive.”
“Guilt is an ugly emotion,” she whispered.
“Yes, I suppose you are right.” He sipped his brandy. “I owe you an apology for Ainsley, too. It was bad form to try to buy off my friend. My only excuse is I was...”
“Was what?” she pressed when his voice trailed off.
“Bedeviled with jealousy,” he admitted slowly. “I had never felt such hot rage until I saw you dance with him. And you allowed him to call on you.”
Louisa pressed her lips together. She was not blameless in this quarrel. “Apology accepted on one condition.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head and stared at her with a slight smile.
“Yes. You must accept my apology too.” Louisa stared down at her brandy, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have made accusations against you. I was angry about the note. Confused by what had happened the previous night. Unsure of your feelings for me and—"
Suddenly drawn up into his arms, he kissed senselessly, and she kissed him back, unable to finish her confession. When he slowly pulled away, he stared down at her. His gray eyes sparkling with, dare she think it, love?
“That was my fault, Louisa. Instead of focusing on the beautiful woman in my bed and professing my love to her, I admitted my guilt over my late wife.”
