Secrets Behind Locked Doors. Laura Martin
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if she would disappear into the night again, or if it was the knowledge that if he fell asleep the nightmares would return. This morning he felt haggard.
Louisa, by contrast, looked fresh and ready for the day.
‘Are you ready for our shopping trip today?’ Robert asked. If she was ever going to be seen out in public, she needed something suitable to wear and his housekeeper’s dress really wasn’t good enough.
Louisa looked down at her dress and ran the coarse material through her fingers.
‘I’ve grown rather fond of baggy grey dresses,’ she said with a grin. ‘It would be a shame to change my style now.’
‘And it is quite a style.’
He watched as she tucked into her breakfast and wondered whether this shopping trip was a good idea. He couldn’t deny she needed some new clothes. The dress she’d worn home from the asylum had been consigned to the bin and she couldn’t continue borrowing Mrs Kent’s dresses. No, he knew she needed to go shopping, but he wasn’t sure he was the one who should be going with her. If he’d found her attractive in the shapeless grey dress last night, he dreaded to think what response she might elicit from him as she paraded up and down in silks and satins.
Robert shook his head almost imperceptibly. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, not a young boy unused to controlling his emotions. For years he’d been able to maintain a stony exterior, hide what he was really feeling from the world. Compared to that, concealing a modicum of attraction for Louisa should be child’s play.
‘Why don’t we meet in half an hour?’ Robert said, standing to leave. ‘That will give you enough time to enjoy your breakfast.’
Louisa turned to him with a smile on her face. ‘I’m very much looking forward to today,’ she said.
Robert nodded, then beat a hasty retreat, not trusting himself to say a word.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later Robert was standing in the hall, waiting for Louisa. He resisted the urge to check the clock again, knowing she would probably have interpreted his half-hour rendezvous time as flexible. Not everyone was as punctual to the minute as he was.
‘So where are we going?’ Louisa asked as she descended the staircase, a skip in her step. Robert thought she seemed more relaxed today and he knew his assurance she could leave at any time had helped her to trust him just a little more.
‘There is a modiste not too far from here,’ Robert said. ‘I’m told she’s one of the best in the city.’
‘Wonderful, I wouldn’t want anything less than the best. I am used to garments made of the finest fabrics and designed by the most talented dressmakers.’
Robert was slowly getting used to her sense of humour and even found himself smiling.
‘I’m not sure we can quite match the quality of the clothes you’re used to, but we can only try.’
He led her out to the carriage that waited for them at the bottom of the steps and took her hand in his to help her up. Her fingers were warm against his skin and Robert found himself holding on for just a little longer than was strictly necessary.
Once she was settled, he bounded up into the carriage and took the seat opposite her. They moved off almost immediately.
For a few minutes they travelled in silence. Robert watched Louisa as she stared out the window at all the grand houses. She was a little awestruck, but as they neared their destination he could tell she was becoming increasingly nervous. Although the expression on her face didn’t change, she was absent-mindedly wringing her hands together. Robert’s best friend, Greg Knapwell, had done the same thing before each and every battle they’d fought together.
He tried to work out why she was quite so nervous; it was only a dress shop after all. Then he realised she probably hadn’t ever been to a dress shop before.
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of,’ he said quietly.
Louisa spun to face him. ‘Why do you think I’m afraid?’
‘When I was in the army, a friend of mine used to wring his hands together before we went into battle, very much like you’re doing now.’ Robert surprised himself with his answer. He never talked about the war if he could help it. And if he was asked questions by some simpering debutante who thought he was ‘ever so brave’, he always answered in the vaguest terms possible. He didn’t think he had voluntarily brought the subject of the war up in the two years since he’d returned to England.
Louisa looked at him silently with her big brown eyes and Robert felt as though she were looking deep into his soul.
‘You lost your friend didn’t you?’ she asked eventually.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
‘I’m sorry. It must seem silly to you, my being afraid of visiting a shop, after all you and your friends went through.’
‘No,’ Robert said, ‘it’s not silly. Being nervous of the unknown is the most natural response in the world.’
‘You must find everyday fears a little ridiculous, though,’ Louisa said.
Wordlessly he shook his head, knowing he couldn’t tell her sometimes he was afraid to go to sleep, knowing the nightmares could start as soon as he allowed his mind to drift into oblivion.
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of today,’ he said, steering the conversation away from himself. ‘I’ll be with you all the time.’
‘Surely not all the time,’ Louisa teased.
‘Well, not far away,’ Robert said, his voice gruff.
‘I worry what people will think of me.’
‘Don’t.’
He’d stopped caring what people thought when he realised he’d lost most of the people who mattered to him.
‘That’s your advice?’ Louisa asked. ‘Just don’t?’
‘That’s my advice.’
She grinned and turned back to the window. Robert was pleased to see she’d stopped wringing her hands together.
The carriage halted in front of a large shopfront and Robert watched as Louisa’s eyes widened in amazement.
He quickly hopped down from the carriage and once again held out his hand to help Louisa down. This time he didn’t let go, but tucked her hand into his elbow and escorted her inside.
They were met by a smiling woman who bobbed into a curtsy as soon as they walked inside. She looked from Robert to Louisa and back again, the confusion showing on her face. She had obviously seen the grand carriage stop outside the shop but was puzzled she did not know the mismatched couple who descended from it.
‘Welcome, sir, madam,’ she said.
‘I’m Lord Fleetwood,’ Robert said, watching as the woman’s eyes widened in recognition of the name, ‘and this is my ward, Miss Louisa Turnhill.’
‘It’s an honour to meet you both.’
‘Miss Turnhill has come to stay with me, but unfortunately all her clothes were destroyed in a fire.’
‘All of them?’ the modiste asked in disbelief.
‘All of them,’ Robert confirmed.
‘My name is Mrs Willow, this here is Lucy,’ the woman said as a young shopgirl stepped forward. ‘And this is Prudence,’ she added as another girl bobbed a curtsy. ‘We would be delighted to be of assistance.’
Robert stepped back as the three women crowded around Louisa and bustled her farther into the shop. He found a comfortable chair, placed so that he had a good view of the proceedings but was tucked out of the way.
‘How