Page 48 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
He still hadn’t deciphered her motives for teaching Georgie. How could she simply want to help people? So she’d lost some friends when she’d come down in the world—hell, he knew all about that. But why give up London Society if one didn’t have to? Other women found ways to entertain themselves. Did she need someone to do it for her? Those kinds of women used to appeal to him. He’d always loved to entertain, and had enjoyed their attentions in return. But now he found that sort of helpless woman needy. He was no longer “the entertainer,” a position he’d so valued his entire life. From childhood, he was the one who could make his parents laugh, and it took him many years to realize that it was the only time they seemed happy together.
Louisa had never struck him as the sort of woman who needed someone else to make her feel complete. Why was he so drawn to her? All right, he enjoyed the husky sound of her voice. He was grateful for the compassion she showed his grandmother and sister. And that perfume that lingered everywhere she’d been was enough to drive him wild.
Suddenly his cane hit something hard and he came to a stop. With all his ruminating, he’d forgotten to count his steps when he’d turned down the hall. And had he turned to the right or left? He wasn’t sure if he was in the gentlemen’s or ladies’ wing of the manor. He squelched his instantaneous embarrassment. For several minutes he stumbled down the corridor, feeling more and more foolish. Door after door, he would knock, listen for silence, then step inside, each time hoping he could find a piece of furniture that would give him an idea which room he was in.
Suddenly, he heard a door open behind him, and he froze.
“Simon?”
It was Louisa, the one person he didn’t want seeing him like this, fumbling around helplessly like the blind man he was.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, and her voice was closer now.
“Everything’s fine,” he said briskly. “You can go back to bed.”
“But why are you opening doors?”
“I simply forgot to count my paces, and I lost my sense of direction. I was hoping I’d recognize a room to reorient myself.”
“Ah, I always wondered how you found your way around at night.”
His skin was hot with embarrassment. He was back to the beginning again, wondering how she looked at him, how she pitied him. His muscles were stiff; his jaw ached from clenching his teeth. Every time he was convinced he was getting by, that he was all right, something happened to make him realize how helpless he was. He was so tired of feeling alone, something he still wasn’t used to.
He walked toward her voice. “I can’t sleep. Mind if I come in?”
He heard her gasp, knew how scandalous he was being. She’d send him on his way any moment.
Then he felt her arm slide into his, and she led him inside. The entire room smelled of her; he could imagine lazy mornings waking up surrounded by the essence of her.
“I didn’t have a chance to light a candle,” she said. “I think there’s a chair right here.”
“Ah, so you’re in the dark tonight, too.” His tension began to subside.
With his cane he found the chair, then he bent until he could feel the seat. He sat down, then gave her a half smile. “I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“Stay a little while. I was writing letters earlier, and it always makes me miss my sisters. Your company is appreciated.”
“I don’t think so. This is a good excuse for you to pick my brain and try to see what I’m thinking.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I told you before, I’m not in despair—although my foolishness tonight probably has you wondering.”
“I didn’t think—”
“Then what were you thinking when you came to my room? There aren’t many women who would immediately assume that I wanted to kill myself, not when I have my family and my faculties. Well, most of them.”
She was silent for a long minute, and he began to wonder if he’d touched on something too deep for her to discuss.
“My father had those things, too,” she said softly, hesitantly. “And it didn’t matter. He killed himself.”
His mouth fell open, and he had to cover his shock as he said, “I never heard that. I’m so sorry, Louisa.”
“We hid it. I shouldn’t even be telling you. I vowed to my sisters and mother that I’d never tell a soul, and here I’ve just…blurted it out.”
“Maybe you needed to tell someone. I promise you that no one will ever hear about it from me.”
“Thank you. You see, I never recognizedhisdespair. Of all my sisters, I was closest to him and I never saw his problems, never realized he needed help.”
