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He chuckled. “I asked for more than that.”
“That is what you wrote to me.”
“That’s impossible,” he replied in a low voice.
“Why?”
“Because that is...” his voice trailed off in the darkness of the carriage.
“Is...?”
“Nothing.”
The carriage stopped in front of her mother’s home. Harry opened the door and held out his hand to help her down. Even with gloves on their hands, a shock raced up her arms, thrilling her with the sensation. She could only hope he had felt the same.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsy as Davis opened the door with a frown.
“Good evening, Miss Drake,” Harry said with a nod.
“Miss Drake, where is your mother?” Davis asked, closing the door behind them.
“I took a fall in the garden, and the duke escorted me home. Emma and Mamma decided to remain rather than leave early.”
And tomorrow she would, no doubt, face the wrath of her mother.
AS THE CARRIAGE ROLLED away from Louisa’s home, Harry pressed his hands to his temples. The shock of Louisa’s description of what he wanted in a wife wouldn’t leave his mind. He could not have written that to her. Not to Louisa.
Damnation!
What if she had grasped what he hadn’t even realized until she spoke the words?
His list described her.
She was exactly what he wanted physically and mentally. He’d never stopped loving her, but he could not have her now. The only solution was to find her a gentleman straightaway.
And he must stop kissing her.
Perhaps he should offer to increase her dowry to attract more suitors, but her mother would never allow that because of how it would look to the gossips. There was Collingwood, but something niggled Harry with regards to the viscount. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he had to find someone else for her.
The other solution was simple. Harry must marry someone quickly and return to Northwood Park to forget Louisa. Mary Gardiner wasn’t such a poor choice. She’d proven her ability to have children. That was something. He hadn’t entirely determined her intelligence yet. While she’d participated in their conversation, he had noticed how her gaze roamed the room while they spoke.
Until he’d met Louisa, he resisted the notion of a bluestocking, but now it would be an asset for a duchess. It would help ensure his children’s minds were engaged. The world was changing, while slowly up to now, he felt there were enormous inventions on the horizon that would change the world forever. He and Louisa had discussed how these changes might impact the future of the aristocracy. His children would need the sense to look at options other than farming to retain the duchy.
Miss Turnbull might be that woman, but until he spoke with her more, he would never know. His stomach unexpectedly roiled in protest. None of the ladies Louisa had introduced him to made him think about marriage. Nor did Mary Gardiner enflame his senses like Louisa. No one had ever affected him as she had. But he could not marry Louisa Drake.
Chapter 14
LOUISA WANTED TO SKIP the poetry reading tonight but knew her mother would be furious if she did not attend. With her advanced age, it was anticipated Louisa would attend every event possible. Harry would likely be there, expecting her to have someone else to introduce him to, but she needed to find a lady who wouldn’t make him think she was deliberately making a blunder of their pact.
She also needed to discover what he thought of Miss Turnbull. There was a rumor circulating that he paid a call on her yesterday. Whilst Miss Turnbull might not wish to display her intelligence at a ball, with a caller in the privacy of her home, she could be more open.
Harry enjoyed intellectual ladies, and she might be what he wanted in a wife. Louisa prayed she hadn’t overplayed her hand. Hopefully, the issue of Miss Turnbull’s parents in trade would keep him from thinking of her as an acceptable lady.
“Come along, Louisa. We must leave now,” Emma said before staring at her in an assessing manner. “Are you well?”
“Well enough, I suppose.” Louisa sighed before picking up her shawl and then followed her sister to the hall. Thankfully, the incident with her leaving the Marchtons’ ball blew over quickly when Emma told Mamma that Louisa had departed the ball to return home because she was ill. Louisa smiled thinking about what a little schemer her younger sister had become.
“Will Bolton be in attendance tonight?”
