Page 37 of Bargaining for the Barrister
A laugh floated out, matching the breeze in its lightness. “Perhaps you would’ve grown on them. You’re proving to at least be a decent listener.”
“I hope so.” He glanced at her. “We are friends now, are we not?” They had agreed to be, but there was still this obstacle between them—this chance they could be tied together in marriage—that kept him from fully relaxing. He wanted a friendship with her, and he needed her to know she had someone besides her brother she could turn to. “I mean, I have not even made you hide behind a screen while we conversed today.”
“No, you did not.” Her cheeks lifted as she bit back a smile—not a careful one like those he had noted many times before—but one in which her laugh was close to the surface, ready to bubble out again at any moment. “And I feel better having talked about my parents. I’m not sure how you knew I needed it. But I thank you.”
“May I ask how they died? You do not have to tell me if it’s too painful.” The time felt right to ask, if there were ever a right time for such a distressing conversation. Friends should know about the hard things in each other’s lives.
“You may ask, even if it pains me to tell you. I am surprised Lady Kellen or your mother has not told you already. It was a carriage accident last spring.”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
She nodded, but her eyes stayed on the path in front of them. “We were in London for the Season. Most people assumed they died at the same time, but they did not. What most don’t know is that my father lived another three days after the accident. They brought him to our town house, hoping he would recover. The first few hours he was coherent enough to speak, but his internal injuries were too great. I stayed by his side, savoring every desperate minute together until he lost consciousness. For over two days, he lived a breath away from death’s grasp in a peaceful slumber until the end. How grateful I am for those last few hours together. I think of them often.”
It was as if she were in a trance. Not a tear fell across her face. She blinked a few times and took in the scenery once more, as if the memory she’d described had not haunted her every dream and spare thought this last year. Paul was sure it had, though, even if her words were unfailingly optimistic.
Louisa pulled her shawl back around her shoulders and held it snug with her hands. When one hand fell to her side between them, the yearning to take it in his own surprised Paul. Such a temptation was not natural to him. He could care deeply for certain people or causes, but there was never a need to be affectionate. So why did he have to force his arms to fold at his chest? The blasted sun was likely affecting his judgment.
Just then the sun went behind a cloud, leaving Paul without an excuse for his complicated feelings. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to touch her. This walk had solidified one thing in his mind. He’d seen his mother’s trap as plain as daylight and yet had managed to walk right into it.
When they finally reached the front of the house, Ian rode up on his horse. He tipped his hat to them and swung down as a groom approached and led the horse away.
“Sheldon,” Ian said in a stern sort of greeting.
“Lord Reynolds,” Paul answered back, employing the same tone and throwing in Ian’s proper title. Ian was being overprotective again, and Paul would laugh, except this time, his friend’s wariness for the situation might be founded.
“What’s going on here?”
Paul turned to Louisa. “Pardon me, but my father here would like a full report of our walk. What should we tell him?”
She grinned with a teasing glint in her eye. “How terribly romantic it was.”
Paul’s mouth dropped open. Was she teasing, or had she read his thoughts?
Louisa put her hand out as if to emphasize her words. “Why, from the moment I laid my eyes on the pond, with its waveless tendencies and mossy-green banks, I knew it was love at first sight.”
Relief flooded through him with the same intensity of winning a difficult case. “There you have it, Ian. A full report. She fell in love with your pond. Now, stop glaring at us.”
Ian fisted his hands. “We need to talk. Privately.”
Paul turned to apologize for Ian’s behavior, but Louisa did not seem the least put out. “Go ahead, Paul. Lord Reynolds must have something vastly important to speak to you about. I will return to the other ladies.”
“Wait,” Paul said as Louisa stepped around them. “If you return without me, my mother will have my head.”
“Oh, you’re right. You might even be forced to visit again as soon as tomorrow.” She sighed dramatically. “Very well. I shall wait by the door.”
Paul agreed with a soft chuckle and turned to face a scowling Ian.
As soon as they were out of hearing distance, Ian gave him an earful. “Did she just call you by your given name? I cannot believe this. You’re doing a terrible job of avoiding her.”
“Me? I haven’t seen her for nearly three days. I trusted her to you, but where have you been?”
“What do you mean you trusted her to me? I’ve been at the Dome, avoiding her properly, as you ought to have done in the beginning.”
Louisa did not deserve to be left on her own in a strange house. “Are you afraid your mother is suddenly going to pawn her off on you?”
Ian shrugged and turned slightly away from him. “It is not a risk I am willing to take.”
Paul pushed back his jacket and rested his hand on his hip. “Listen, Ian, she has been through a great deal in the last year. She deserves your compassion, not your derision. I expect you to be a better host and protect her from...”
