Page 95 of A Duchess to Fight For
“That’s hard to do if she won’t even see me.”
“You’ll find a way.
*****
Tea dragged on. Percy wanted to stay until after Harold left so he could talk to Louisa alone. Harold kept hanging in there obviously wanting the same thing. Finally, Percy rose and bowed to both Louisa and Harold.
Louisa rose also. She found the day long and wanted to rest. Harold bowed, and the two men were on the steps going down to the pavement together.
“Well, I’ll see you tonight for dinner, Harold?”
“If I get back to my townhouse and don’t find anything pressing, I’ll be there.”
They descended the stairs and went in separate directions.
*****
Percy walked home exhausted. His adrenaline was still flowing from Barton’s attempt to abduct Louisa. In fact, every time he thought of it – and he thought of it often – he could feel it pump through his veins again.
He stood in his entrance hall and stared straight ahead at nothing. After the third enquiry from his butler, Percy answered.
“Yes. Have a tub brought to my bedchamber with a light dinner. I don’t want to be disturbed. Send anyone who calls away. Keep any correspondence until I’m ready to read it.”
Percy climbed the stairs as if each stair was a foot deep of soft mud. He lay on his back when he collided with his bed, feet still on the ground, arms spread wide. He must have slept because the footmen carrying the tub woke him.
They put his dinner tray on his side table and lit a fire. He declined every other offer for help.
When he had his bedchamber to himself, he sat in front of the fire drinking wine and eating an assortment of meats and cheeses.
Taking off his boots seemed like a monumental chore. He left a trail of discarded clothes to the tub.
The hot tub water and cool wine helped relieve the adrenaline in his veins. He would sleep tonight.
Percy woke. A look at the clock on the mantle showed he slept until 1:30 in the afternoon. He turned over and groaned. God, he needed that. Had he ever slept so late? No.
He rose, dressed, and went downstairs for something to eat. Cook made him a lovely brunch menu that included Eggs Benedict, fresh fruit, and bread and cheese. Rested and fed, he went to the library and set about finding something to read.
It always took longer than expected when he tried to find a book. He didn’t know how much time had passed until he found four and took them upstairs to his bedchamber.
He took off all his clothes, put a candle and flint on his side table and put the books on the pillow next to his.
He lay in bed for a moment, not moving, savouring the decadent feeling he had of doing nothing in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe he would take a nap.
He sat up, stuffing extra pillows behind him, supporting his back. He brought his books to his lap. Coleridge, Goethe, Shakespeare, Paine. He put them aside again, slid down the bed into a prone position, moved all but one pillow away and thought.
It was, after all, the real reason he was going through this exercise. ‘You hurt her, you’re not yourself, the scales are balanced, you were warned about the timing, send him away.’
He looked up at the fabric draping the wood slats of his bed. ‘You were feeling sorry for yourself. You are feeling sorry for yourself. How bad have I been that they don’t want to eat dinner with me at White’s?’
Percy turned to his side and pulled his knees up. He looked at the wallpaper that had been on the wall as long as Percy could remember. Louisa could redecorate the whole townhouse for him. It would look so much better. He had lived here alone for so long that he didn’t notice those things. He didn’t entertain except for Cecil and Kent. They didn’t count. They were as blind to home décor as he was.
If he married Louisa, they could entertain Cecil and Emma and Kent and Gertie. Imagine hearing laughter and conversation here? It would be a first.
He drifted off to sleep. When he woke, it was dark outside. He would have to go for a run. Burn off some energy, or he would never sleep tonight.
He put on his rugby shoes and shirt. He went downstairs and headed for the kitchen.
“I’m going for a run. Do you think I could get something to eat in about two hours?”
