Page 59 of Bargaining for the Barrister
“Yes,” Geraldine said, her gaze drifting to her brother and then back to Louisa. “We are most upset. I had hoped to extend our stay here. I was having such a good time.”
The lack of concern for her mother told Louisa all she needed to know. Mr. Davies did not meet her eyes when she stepped nearer to him. “Do travel safely.”
He cleared his throat. “We will.” He dipped his head, then grabbed his sister’s arm. “Get in. We cannot waste another moment with Mother suffering in our absence.” He helped his sister alight, then climbed up after her.
“Take care on your journey,” Lady Kellen added with a wave.
Geraldine sighed. “Please invite us again soon. I shall come at a moment’s notice.”
Mr. Davies said nothing and gave a curt nod to signal his goodbye. He ought to have at least thanked Lady Kellen for her invitation, but Louisa was sure Lady Kellen was unoffended, as she shared the same glint of relief in her expression that Louisa felt.
The carriage rocked into motion, and the two ladies stood together, watching it rumble down the drive.
“How very unexpected,” Lady Kellen said, linking arms with Louisa. Louisa nodded, though it wasn’t unforeseen for her. “Let’s eat breakfast, shall we?”
They walked back inside, with Louisa counting down the minutes until she could sneak away to read her letter. She dreaded it being from Mr. Davies and at the same time wondered if it was a warning about another musical club meeting. Deep down, though, despite the silliness of such a notion, she wished it to be from Paul.
It was another hour until a window opened for her to declare her intention for taking a walk. The letter sang a siren song through her veins with every step nearer she came to the gardens. It could not be ignored a moment longer.
She was tempted to walk to the lower pond to ensure her privacy, but her curiosity had to be satisfied immediately. Meandering through Bellmont Manor’s gardens, she perched on a large rock in the sun that was absent of the morning dew the benches still clung to. Louisa took in the blooms of yellow and purple and wished she were at Rothbrier, whose gardens were far superior. The letter pushed away any longing she had, however, stealing all her focus.
Pulling it from her reticule, she ran her finger along the fold and, with a flick of her finger, broke the seal. On a single piece of parchment were two lines:
I’m not too far away if you need me.
—Paul
So short and yet her heart pounded a rapid cadence against her ribs. She held the paper to her chest. He hadn’t abandoned her, even after he’d had every reason to do so. It was such a sweet reminder of his character, and it tugged a smile from her lips. He might be poor as he’d said, but he was constantly putting her needs before his own. Time and again, despite his own desires, he had tried to protect her and put her at ease. He listened to her—really listened—and his words could not deny the goodness in his actions. Did this note not prove that there was hope where she’d thought there was none?
But how long had the note been there? Had he snuck it into her room himself? Part of her wanted to believe he had because it made it infinitely more personal. She smoothed the paper on her lap and read it again. Should she write back? A single, unattached woman never sent letters to a man who was not her close relative... unless they had an understanding.
She stood and paced in front of the rock. Only yesterday afternoon in front of Rothbrier, Paul had said to send word if anything happened. So far, she had yet to see the fruition of the matchmaking mamas’ next move, so she couldn’t write to him about that. The sun warmed her shoulders and the back of her neck as she thought about what to do.
Her answer wasn’t the wisest, considering the risks, but it brought her immediate satisfaction. She would write to Paul to thank him for sending Mr. Davies away. She owed him a debt of gratitude, and a little note was the least she could do. Maybe he would even write back and tell her what he’d said that had driven Mr. Davies from the house in such a hasty manner. She left the gardens and made her way back to her room. Thoughts of Paul and his kind gesture made her steps lighter than they’d been in days.
But sitting at her desk with pen in hand, her courage wavered. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t be misconstrued as a confession? It had to be simple and short, much like his. She dipped her pen into the ink and began,
I’m quite impressed by your cunning ways.
No, too complimentary. She could not deny her growing feelings for the man, but there was too much between them for her to even dare suggest an attachment. And as much as she wanted to forget his comment about money, it still left her ill if she thought on it for too long. Louisa ripped off the top of the paper and crumpled it up.
She started anew.
You should have seen Mr. Davies flee Brookeside. I insist you tell me how you threatened him.
Too demanding? Probably. She ripped the paper again. And again. And again, until she’d written and destroyed enough lines to have only a small slip of paper left. She did hate to waste paper, so a strip of parchment for a short note would have to suffice.
Thank you for everything.
Always your friend,
Louisa
Not demanding, misleading, or flirtatious but still satisfied her need to send something in return. She folded the paper into thirds until it resembled a square and sealed it shut with a small sealing wafer. Once secured, she slipped the note into her reticule until she could find a way to deliver it. The usual method was out of the question, as servants would talk.
Having already visited the gardens, she went in search of Lady Kellen. She found her rearranging a vase of flowers in the corridor by the top of the staircase.
“There you are, Louisa.” Lady Kellen added a sprig of greenery between two roses. “How was your walk?”
