The Governess Club: Louisa (22 page)

Good Lord, was that the magistrate with him? The constable? For the first time, Louisa regretted not venturing out into the town more, not learning who lived here. She had left that to John. And now here he was, getting thoroughly foxed from the looks of things, with the magistrate waiting to arrest her. Was this how things were going to happen, her getting arrested while John drank himself under the table?

Some love he showed.

He spied her standing at the door. “Louisa!” he bellowed. All the men stood quickly. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

She motioned him over, grateful he complied without making a bigger scene. When he was near, she crossed her arms. “What do you think you are doing?” she said. “You closed the pub without speaking to me about it.”

“You were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“But why close it in the first place? This boxing mill is a chance for us to make a larger profit than we have in the past.”

He leaned in, concern on his face. “I thought we would need privacy to deal with the situation of your brother and friends.”

She blinked. “Oh.” It was actually sweet of him, when she thought about it. “You still should have consulted me. And this wouldn’t have been an issue if we had a private dining room.”

John shook his head at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t you ever just say ‘thank you’?”

She huffed. “Thank you.” She eyed the portly man with her brother. “Who is that?” she whispered. “Is he the magistrate?”

He followed her gaze. “I don’t know. Never seen him before.”

She glared at him again. “And you thought drinking was the best way to handle this situation?”

He shrugged, the smile still on his face. “Didn’t seem it would hurt.”

Her brother walking toward them caught her attention. His steps were tentative, his gaze unwavering. “John,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

He grasped her hand. “Just breathe, kitten. His sister has returned from the dead. Give him a chance.”

She clutched his hand, her grip tight as she watched Baron Brockhurst approach. “Anna-Louise,” he said. “How—you are well?”

She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin, her fingers digging into John’s hand. “I go by Louisa now and yes, I am well.”

“Right. Louisa. You met Victoria last night, and my girls.”

“They seemed nice.”

“They are looking forward to getting to know their aunt. They are already planning what room will be yours.” He smiled the smile of a proud, indulgent father. “Victoria’s family lives in Cornwall and she has always encouraged me to continue searching for you. Not that I was giving up,” he added quickly. “But she kept my spirits up.”

“She sounds lovely.” Louisa paused for a moment. “Wait, what? Room? What are you talking about?” She looked at John, who looked just as confused as she did.

Brockhurst took a deep breath. “An—Louisa, this is Mr. Coates, a solicitor. Not mine, but one from here that I found on short notice.”

“Is this about Darleigh?” she asked. “Do I need a solicitor already?”

Her brother looked confused. “Darleigh? What does he have to do with this?”

“Isn’t that why you’ve been looking for me? I have to admit, I am surprised the authorities haven’t found me after all these years.”

“What are you talking about?”

Louisa took a deep breath and looked at John for encouragement. He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I am the one who killed Blaine Darleigh,” she told Brockhurst.

“Anna-Louise,” he said slowly, “Darleigh is not dead.”

“What?” Surely she misheard him. She felt the blood drain from her face. John guided her over to where he had been sitting. Her friends, who continued to remain silent, pulled up more chairs to accommodate the entire group. John took the chair on one side of her, her brother on the other.

“Anna-Louise, I need to explain what happened.”

“She said to call her Louisa,” John said, shooting him a quick glare.

Brockhurst glanced at his table companions. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private. Is there another room we can use?”

“Louisa, do you want to speak in private?” John asked her when she didn’t respond. She met his eyes briefly and shook her head. He addressed the baron. “I believe the other gentlemen will understand the need for discretion and silence in this matter.”

Jacob nodded. “Our lips are sealed.” Stephen murmured his agreement and Nathan looked at her brother, his blue eyes ice cold.

“Louisa,” Brockhurst tried again, “Darleigh isn’t dead. I went to Willowcrest two days after I lost it to him. I know,” he said, forestalling whatever she might have said, “I shouldn’t have staked it in the first place, but you have to understand. I was young, drunk more often than not. I was wholly unprepared for our father’s death and the responsibilities of the title. God, I was twenty years old.”

She found her voice again and it was cold, even to her ears. “I was seventeen when Darleigh tried to rape me, Matthew, three years your junior. He said he had won my home from you, and all its contents. I was one of the contents, in his opinion.”

He had the grace to flush and nodded. “That is what I deduced when I arrived the day after he had. The servants had found him in the library and patched him up as best they could. They hadn’t contacted any doctor or authority, so it was contained within the estate. But he didn’t die. When he woke up, though, he wasn’t the same. I took him back to his estate and told everyone he took a fall from his horse and hit his head. He has a round-the-clock nurse now, can hardly do anything for himself. Can barely talk.”

He offered her a tentative smile and put his hand on hers. “So you’re safe. I took care of it and Darleigh can’t ever say different. I behaved like your brother for the first time in my life when you needed it the most but weren’t around to see it.”

Silence settled in the pub. Louisa could feel all of their eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at the glass in front of her. She hadn’t killed Darleigh. It was a relief, on some level, but all those years spent running from something that didn’t actually happen. What did that make her? She hadn’t even had the courage to stay and face the consequences. And she hadn’t ever since. Every time something happened to threaten her, she ran.

Until last night. Until John, her big galoot, had taken her hand and brought her back to the inn. He didn’t force her, didn’t impose himself on her, but saw her for who she really was and stood beside her anyway. He loved her and she loved him in return.

Good Lord, why was she thinking of this now? Louisa pushed the thought away and looked at her brother. He looked so earnest, so sincere. But she couldn’t forget so easily. “You—” She stopped and composed herself. “Darleigh is not dead?”

Matthew shook his head. “No.”

“But you, you have never been there for me, Matthew. You are the reason Darleigh could attack me in the first place and why I ran. It all comes back to you.”

He nodded and bowed his head for a moment. “I know. I know that and acknowledge it. All I can do is say that I am different and will be a better brother from now on. I spent six years looking for you, An—Louisa, that must count for something.”

She glanced around the circle. John was rubbing his head, Jacob was studying his hands, Stephen and Nathan just looked awkward. But not as awkward as the solicitor hovering on the periphery, not quite part of the circle.

She frowned. “Why the need for a solicitor?”

Her brother sat up. “Ah. That. I want you to come home with me, Victoria and the girls. I am your family and I will care for you from now on.”

That
was a surprise. Louisa shook her head. “No.” She saw John stop rubbing his head, his hand dropping to his lap. “No,” she repeated.

Matthew looked awkward. “You know I am your guardian until you are twenty-five years of age. That is still two years away.”

Why isn’t John saying anything?
He was just sitting there, so she latched on to the first thing she could think of. “I told you yesterday that John and I were married.”

“Hence the solicitor.” Matthew gestured to the portly man.

Louisa stood up, moving away from the table to pace, her arms crossing and uncrossing as she did. “You are going to have it declared invalid because we didn’t have my guardian’s permission? That is archaic, even for you. You haven’t ever been much of a guardian and if you think I need one now, then you are sadly mistaken.” Her skin began to itch and she unconsciously rubbed her arms to lessen the sensation.

“There’s the Louisa I know,” Jacob muttered under his breath. He raised his hands up in defense against her glare and made the motions of locking his mouth shut.

“Not based on consent, but Taylor didn’t know your real name until last night. Anna-Louise Brockhurst.”

“I don’t understand.”

Mr. Coates cleared his throat. “If you married Mr. Taylor,” he nodded at John, his eyes wary, “but gave a false name, then the marriage is fraudulent.”

“Fraudulent?”

“You did not use your legal name, nor did you sign it, thus making it null and void, just as with any other legal contract. As that appears to be the case, Lord Brockhurst is still your legal guardian.”

Louisa stared at the small, portly man for so long the solicitor started to squirm in his shoes. “Uh, you do understand what I am saying, correct?” he ventured.

When her brow lowered and her eyes turned into a ferocious glare, her stance clearly preparing to attack the man, John stood up and took her arms. “Louisa,” he said quietly, repeating her name until she looked him in the eyes. “Perhaps it’s time to cut the line, tell them the truth.”

“But he just said that we’re not married,” she whispered angrily.

“We’re not.” John rubbed her arms before cupping her face, reiterating the truth with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Are you listening to yourself? You are getting upset over being told a fake marriage is in fact fake.”

She blinked at him. “Why aren’t you more upset at this?” she demanded. “Matthew is destroying what we have here.”

“What do we have, kitten? Tell me that.”

Louisa stared, her throat closing. He wasn’t truly serious, was he? Was this the same man who followed her last night and declared his love for her in the most objectionable manner? Had she truly been contemplating loving him back just moments ago?

He kept speaking, his eyes kind and gentle. “I have made my position with you clear. I am not going anywhere and not changing my mind at all. What we have is up to you. You are the one who has to decide.” He smiled at her, a touch of sadness in it. “I fucking well love you, Louisa. No matter what you do or where you go, I will be here, loving you. You just have to decide what you want.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Was he speaking a foreign language? She couldn’t quite comprehend what he was saying. “Wh-what?” she stammered.

“It’s your choice,” he repeated.

“My choice?”

He nodded.

She glared at him, his words unsettling her. She shoved at his chest, not moving him an inch. “Aren’t you going to tell me to stay?” Isn’t that what men in love wanted, for the woman they loved to stay with them?

His thumb traced her cheekbone. “No. This is your decision. You have to want to stay if you are going to be happy here.”

“Excuse me.” Brockhurst’s voice interrupted them. “This tête-à-tête has gone on long enough. You need to stay away from my sister, Taylor.”

John’s hand dropped from her cheek and a chill immediately took its place on her skin. She looked at him, at the flare of anger in his eyes. He took a deep breath and stepped away from her. “Of course, milord. For now,” he added that part in a low voice, his gaze steady on the man.

Brockhurst skirted around John, his eyes wary. “Anna-Louise, think of it. A prizefighter, that’s all he is. You don’t truly want to be tied to that for the rest of your life, do you? Living in an inn? You deserve better. Come home with me to Riverwood. Come home to your family. There will be dresses and London seasons waiting for you. Come and let me give you the life you were raised to have, the life you deserve. The life he can’t give you.”

Louisa’s eyes narrowed at his insulting words toward John. She opened her mouth to rebuke her brother, but was interrupted.

“Hold on just a moment.” Their heads swiveled to see Jacob standing and approaching. “If you two get a chance to make your case to her, then we do as well. Our wives have been beside themselves this whole time and Montgomery even left his newborn daughter to continue this search.”

The five of them stared at Jacob. He looked back and shrugged. “It only seems fair.”

“Very well,” Brockhurst said. “What have you to add? What can you offer my sister that I can’t?”

“Well, uh,” Jacob said, looking back at his friends for help. “I don’t actually have anything. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

With a sigh, Stephen slapped the newspaper down on the table and stood. “Miss Hur—um, Brock—hurst—shall I just call you Louisa, for clarity’s sake?”

“Please.”

“Louisa, your friends are concerned for you. You disappeared without a word and they had visions of your demise for months.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Nathan joined the group, his cane tapping on the floor, and shook his head in disgust at his companions. “Both of you are hopeless.” He turned his attention to Louisa. “Miss Brockhurst, I don’t know you, you don’t know me. The only reason why I am here is because you are important to Sara, who is important to me. I have no personal stake in your return to Ridgestone besides assurances of your health and well-being.”

“And you think I am hopeless at this?” Jacob muttered.

Nathan shot him a glare before turning back to Louisa. “It occurs to me that you have the worst possible dilemma ahead of you—the choice between people who obviously care for you. It is like asking a well-loved child who their favorite parent is. Our ladies at Ridgestone have truly been beside themselves with worry; of that I have no doubt. Your brother has spent the last six years searching for you, castigating himself for his role in your disappearance. And Mr. Taylor here has done little to conceal his feelings toward you; a larger bulldog you could not find.