Page 103 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“You could not! He does not deserve so much.” She paused. “That sounds pitiless, but he is lazy and selfish and a liar. He’s never applied himself to anything. When I first thought of him in the navy, I imagined him in a handsome uniform doing something worthwhile, becoming someone good. But the press-gang told me he was locked in a cage, and it struck me that he could die at war.”

“Do not worry about a fate you cannot control. It is true the navy could be very good for him. Does he have any skills? Tomorrow, I will walk onto the HMS Frolic and speak to the captain myself.”

Her face softened. “Even after everything?”

“Even after everything.” He said it without effort or thought and found it true. He would do anything for Louisa.

“Ask the captain to keep him from gin and cards.”

“You have my word.”

She moved as if to embrace him, then hugged herself. “Thank you.”

“Sit with me for a while,” James said. “I am going to Lundbrooke the day after tomorrow.”

“I am leaving as well.”

“What? My mother will not have that.”

“I have depended on her reputation and charity to guide public opinion in my favor. I need to find my own way.”

“If you intend to strengthen your resilience, London is the best place for that.” He hated the suggestion, anticipated the discomfort she would meet the moment she stepped into society, but the idea that she might slip beyond the edges of his life felt like watching the sun set without knowing if he would ever feel its warmth again.

“It’s more than that.” She studied her palms as if searching for the answer. “There is something inside me. I don’t know what to call it. Determination? Untried competence? Maybe it’s simply a question. Can I survive on my own? Can I accept the consequences of my actions? Can I keep pressing forward when difficulties arise?”

“You can do all that here, with my mother.” Though perhaps his argument was selfish, he wanted her someplace safe, where he could find her should he decide to continue pursuing her. A life in which he was not connected with her, even through his mother, chilled him.

“That would be no test at all.” There was a new sharpness to her, an unshakable focus that showed in the sharp angle of her shoulders and the profound clarity in her eyes. “I will forever be grateful for your family’s patronage and friendship. You and your mother protected me from gossip, spoke well of me despite my foolishness. But I must attempt to do such things for myself. I must prove I can make something good from misfortune.”

He swallowed his arguments. “I believe you can.” She did not seem to need his validation, but he wanted to express his trust in her abilities.

Her head bowed. “Thank you.”

“Where will you go?”

“To my mother’s cottage in Wadebridge.”

“Cornwall? Alone?”

“What better way to allow them to know me?”

“Why not begin with me?” He was startled by his own question. “I don’t mean…there is no need for you to confess your…when I was deeply troubled about my father, you were kind to draw me out. It meant everything to converse with someone about my pressing emotions.”

She pressed her fingers to her eyes.

“Please don’t cry. Please, trust me.”

“You don’t understand; I want to tell you everything, but it hurts to speak of it. How do I find the words?” She pressed her hand into her middle, her face mirroring the wild look of anguish he’d seen when he’d found her burning her dress. Suddenly, she sat up straighter and her eyes brightened. “I have an idea. I won’t be a moment.”

She whipped out of the room, following whatever fresh inclination she’d conceived. He would miss that spontaneity.

In a few minutes, she was sitting beside him with several sheets of paper. “I wanted to tell my mother about my Great Misjudgment, as I call it, so I wrote her this letter. It explains everything.” She thrust it at him. “I will stay while you read, so we can talk it over.”

“You’re certain?” It was immensely personal to read a letter she’d written to her deceased mother, but it hardly surprised him that she’d thought of such an unconventional solution.

“It would help if you read it, for then I will not have to search for the words or lose my composure as I speak.”

James nodded and read. He smiled at her charming style and the tenderness she felt for her mother. He frowned as he learned how her father, who ought to have loved her, had failed to defend her, wanted to growl or cry as he read of that man who had deceived and attempted to use her in unspeakable ways. His heart nearly burst as he read of his mother’s kindness to Louisa in the abyss of her tribulation.