Page 30 of Bargaining for the Barrister
“Yes,” Louisa said. “You and I are not a match.”
Chapter 13
Not a match.Paul repeatedthe phrase over and over in his mind as he stared at Louisa’s sleeping form. She breathed out of her mouth, long and slow, every feature relaxed. He’d never watched a woman sleep before and was fascinated by it. By her. What if his circumstances had been different? If Mrs. Hammond hadn’t been a part of his past and consequently tainted his perception of the future—of people and relationships? What if she hadn’t collected his savings? Or if Paul had become a barrister a year sooner and earned more? But he knew the answer. He’d still be against an arranged marriage because he treasured his right to choose for himself.
However, he might not have fought the idea so much once he’d seen Louisa for himself. She was like a bright star—not because of her inexperience with the hardships of life but in spite of what she had endured. He’d known her for only a short time, but after this morning, it felt like so much longer. He had already divulged more to her than he’d ever done to Jemma or Lisette or even Tom or Miles. Ian knew almost everything... but only Ian.
Perhaps it had been silly to tell her about the swimming. Reliving the moment with Mrs. Hammond standing over him had not been as painful as it had been in the past, though it had awakened other memories of abuse—her neglect to feed him, the vivid stories she’d told to frighten him into obedience, the hard slaps in private and the hypocritical affection in public, the suffocating closet she’d lock him in for hours on end.The same fears had flooded over him the moment he’d realized the attic door was locked, propelling him back to a moment he hadn’t wanted to remember. Louisa’s conversation had saved him from himself. Yet, with her asleep, feelings of self-loathing, darkness, and disgust built inside him as his mind continued to open the tenebrous window to his childhood.
Louisa’s head fell forward at an awkward angle, bringing him back to the present and reminding him he was safe now. The jostle woke her for a moment, and she corrected her posture. Sleep overcame her again, and gradually her head lolled forward once more. Thoughts of his past faded as he fought his desire to help make her more comfortable. She needed a friend, not him.
Her head shifted to the side, and a look of discomfort tightened her sleeping form. He hated to touch her, but it wouldn’t do to let her stay as she was. Sighing, he gave himself permission to go against everything he knew about himself. Reaching over to her, Paul put his hand on Louisa’s head and guided her face to his shoulder.
The weight of her head was the first physical contact he’d willingly had in many years—unless he counted the brief touch of the single lock of her hair. His good mother had embraced him a time or two, but he’d not been good at returning the gesture. He braced himself for more flashes of memory from his childhood as the much younger Mrs. Hammond came to his mind again, but not even a single torturous thought followed. Instead, the weight of Louisa’s head made him breathe deeper, slower. The warmth flooding through him was not uncomfortable like the air in the room but sweet like Louisa’s smiles.
How could he send her back to her empty house and to a life in which her happiest moments were likely when she was lost in her memories? Maybe a few years from now, he’d run into her again. If he were more emotionally healed and she were still unattached... no, such was a foolish hope. When she left it would be goodbye forever. But Louisa Cox, the girl who was always happy, was a woman he would remember. She had taught him that despite his own struggles, joy was not completely unavailable to him. He was letting someone touch him after all—a step forward he had not allowed himself to take until this moment.
He turned his face and breathed in the sweet lavender-vanilla scent from her hair and whispered, “Sleep well.” She would need it for her journey home. The thought did not settle him as it ought to have, but a man did not change his objectives in life just because of a few new ideas and feelings. He repeated the phrase not a match again in his mind to aid the resolve her sweet scent was attempting to erase.
y
“Just look at them.”
“Like an old married couple.”
Voices tugged the sleep from Paul’s eyes, and he blinked several times. He must’ve dreamed them, because the attic window came into view, revealing that the sun was farther down in the sky than before. Instead of despairing that he was still there, he smiled with pleasure. Louisa’s head was tucked under his, and the side of her body was pressed close to him. Five more minutes. Then he’d move.
“We’d better wake them. They haven’t had a bite to eat all day.”
His mother’s voice floated into the room behind him. His mother! Paul jolted out of his seat. Louisa fell to the side, and he turned and caught her. Her eyes opened with a start.
“Paul?” She sat up, and he released her.
His hands—his traitorous hands—that had willingly reached for another, now trembled. He took in the sight behind her—his mother and Lady Kellen—and shook off his feelings of self-betrayal. “It’s all right,” he told Louisa. “We can leave now. My mother is here.”
Louisa latched on to the back of the chair and twisted her body. “Oh, thank heavens! We’ve been here for hours.”
“I know,” his mother said, grinning.
Paul frowned. “You didn’t...” No, that was absurd. Of course his mother hadn’t locked the door. “I mean, how did you find us? No one seemed to hear my yelling and pounding on the door.”
“The servants have been searching the house and the grounds. Your location has been quite the mystery,” Lady Kellen said. “One of them finally remembered seeing the open attic door and locking it, so we insisted on checking it ourselves.”
“We’re so glad you did!” Louisa gave Lady Kellen the charming smile Paul had grown to appreciate.
“What were you doing up here anyway?” his mother asked.
Paul met Louisa’s eyes. It looked like it was his turn to lie. “I was showing her the view from here, and...” Unfortunately, lying was not his strong suit.
Louisa picked up where he left off. “And the door shut behind us. I hope the whole ordeal did not worry you overmuch, Mrs. Sheldon.”
Paul couldn’t believe she was more worried for his mother than herself.
“You two appeared far too cozy for me to worry a moment longer.” His mother was positively beaming.
Paul’s stomach muscles clenched. His mother was more of a romantic than he’d ever given her credit for. It was time for some defensive maneuvers. “You should be greatly worried for Miss Cox. She hasn’t had a bite to eat or drink for hours. It’s been terribly stuffy up here, and she nearly swooned from the heat. I do believe we should escort her from here without further delay.” He reached out to help Louisa stand, exaggerating his efforts. “Careful now. Easy. Poor, wretched Miss Cox.” He tsked his tongue like a matronly old woman. “There, there, we’ll get you out of here.” He put one hand tentatively on each of her shoulders and pushed her right between his mother and Lady Kellen, propelling her through the door to freedom.
“What are you doing?” Louisa whispered.
