Page 45 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Louisa nodded, her stomach clenching.
Lady Kellen took a deep breath. “Paul is all the things you wanted—kind, charitable, morally upright, and dare I say, quite handsome. But while everyone who knows him respects him, he is still a man—an imperfect one at that. One of his foibles is that he does not touch anyone unless he has to, nor does he care to be touched in return.”
Louisa blanched. Had they not touched several times? She turned to Mrs. Sheldon. “Is this true?”
“It is.” Mrs. Sheldon’s features drooped, and a sadness washed over her countenance. “I gather he is scarred by something, for he has always had a fierce dislike of people touching him.”
“I... I never would have known.” Memories in little snatches played in her mind—him offering her a rather stiff arm as they walked, the way he’d hesitated when she touched his arm after the attic door had slammed shut, the time it had taken for him to relax against her in the window, and even how his hand had hovered over hers last night. How he must have struggled, and she had not even known. She was sorry for that.
But she could not ignore his very purposeful touches either: when he’d sat beside her and brought his face so near to hers, the kiss on her wrist that had sent her head spinning. His eyes had portrayed a tenderness and, she imagined, pleasure. She closed her eyes, aching to relive that public moment in private in hopes that something real would come to pass. When she opened her eyes, it was to see the satisfied smile on Lady Kellen’s face and the curious, hopeful expression on Mrs. Sheldon’s.
Lady Kellen clasped her hands in front of her. “As soon as we leave this room, you will no doubt convince yourself that we are wrong and there is no reason to imagine otherwise. But let me assure you that last night, although Paul partly acted out of gentlemanly concern, he also acted with his heart. There is no mistake about it.”
Louisa was at a loss for what to say, so she nodded. Was it possible that Paul cared for her? Mrs. Sheldon’s words from weeks ago came pouring back to her. “He can be stubborn and slow to let others in, but once he does, he is fiercely loyal. That’s when you’ll know he cares for you.”
His actions were those of a loyal friend, but other clues led her to believe he was at least attracted to her. She had given up the idea of any sort of attachment forming between them, but every time she was with him, her desire for a connection was kindled. Had she been wrong? Could they be a good match?
She looked at the women before her once more. They had invited Mr. Turner and Mr. Davies, which did not sit well with her, but their intentions were not wholly bad. They did seem to have at least Paul’s best interests at heart.
She sighed. “I thank you for the apology and for telling me about Mr. Sheldon’s dislike of, ah, physical contact. If you do not mind, I will remain in my room today and consider what you’ve told me.” Her smile, wilted and weary, was the best she had to offer them.
“As you should, dear.” Mrs. Sheldon reached for Lady Kellen, who moved to her side.
“I will do my best to shorten the stay of our guests, but I do feel a duty to house them for at least a few days since they traveled so far,” Lady Kellen said.
“I understand.” Louisa followed them to the door and closed it behind them. She leaned against the wood, grateful she would not have to face her old suitors. Paul would likely appreciate it too—he would not have to touch her again. Although she adored him for it, he would not have to sacrifice himself on her behalf for much longer.
Although, if he discovered her secret, he might decide to continue doing so of his own accord. Then, if his affections grew, it would be difficult for her to decipher which were real and which were because of her dowry. It was in her best interest to discover Paul’s feelings before any more time passed. If she harbored any expectation of his caring for her when he did, in fact, not, her disappointment would be difficult to recover from.
That night, after hours of seclusion, Louisa asked Nancy to spend a little more time on her toilette before she went down for dinner. The result was a softer and looser coiffure than normal, and Louisa even requested Nancy add a sprig of flowers as an embellishment. Once, she had worn flowers in her hair regularly, but such a practice had ended with the tragedy of her parents’ deaths. The desire to wear them again had not returned at the end of the mourning period, but now Louisa had a reason to be herself again.
Her rose evening gown with a sheer overlay was likely too fashionable for a small country gathering, but like the flowers, it made her feel pretty. This was by no means to benefit Mr. Davies and Mr. Turner; it was because Paul would be there. After an entire day with him on her mind, her insides were bunched up with nerves. She needed a plan so she did not keep letting things happen. No, she wanted to make things happen. There was no need to keep relying on two well-intentioned matchmakers when she was perfectly capable of attempting something on her own.
As she made her way down the stairs, she prayed for inspiration—how to avoid two unwanted suitors and how to hook an unsuspecting one. She stepped into the drawing room to meet a room half full of strangers. She easily identified Lord Reynolds, who had spent much of the evening before acting as her reluctant bodyguard after Paul’s departure, lording over Mr. Davies and Mr. Turner. She hadn’t cared for Lord Reynolds before, but his protectiveness was improving her esteem of him.
Miss Manning and Miss Fielding flanked Lord Reynolds and were conversing with two gentlemen Louisa did not recognize. Her eyes finally landed on Paul’s profile. He faced Geraldine Davies, and Louisa instantly felt sorry for him. Geraldine caught her eye, then shifted as if she had not seen Louisa at all. It eased the sliver of guilt she felt in neglecting the woman by hiding away all day. She moved to rescue Paul as he had done for her but was waylaid by Miss Fielding and one of the strange gentlemen.
Miss Fielding curtsied. “Miss Cox, do you remember me?”
“I do indeed,” she replied, wondering if Miss Fielding came as a friend or as a competitor. Or should she say a Rebel? Louisa could only imagine the extent of such a role, but she was not going to be pushed aside so easily again.
Miss Fielding pointed to her companion. “Please, let me introduce my friend the Honorable Mr. Harwood.”
Ah, the son of a baron. She was already in an earl’s house and half friend, half enemy to the earl’s son, a viscount. Another man from a titled family could hardly intimidate her. Mr. Harwood bowed and grinned. Was it just her, or was his smile most mischievous? Louisa dipped a curtsy, curious as to how this man was connected to Paul. It seemed everyone had been invited for very specific reasons. Louisa was beginning to think Lady Kellen was masterful at everything she did.
“I’m so pleased to finally meet the famous Miss Cox.” Mr. Harwood gave another little bow. He was broader in the shoulders than Paul and an inch or two shorter, his physique decidedly athletic. Most striking, though, was his apparently open, charismatic manner.
“I am hardly famous, Mr. Harwood. Perhaps you have mistaken me for a different Miss Cox.”
He shook his head. “The others have ratted you out. You are the resident Nymph.”
“Nymph?” She looked to Miss Fielding for an explanation.
Miss Fielding looped her arm through Louisa’s. “He gives everyone a nickname, but thankfully, yours is at least flattering.”
“I see. What does he call you?”
“Vixen—and I am not wholly undeserving of it since I can be quite the spitfire.”
