Secrets Behind Locked Doors. Laura Martin

realization dawned on Louisa. Robert hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was her guardian. She’d assumed it was a ruse to trick Symes into letting her go.

      ‘So you actually are my guardian?’

      He nodded. ‘The day before my great-uncle died he wrote a letter and sent it to me. In it he confessed to some awful wrongdoing on his part.’

      Louisa sat paralysed, unable to move. She felt stunned.

      ‘He gave me your name and asked me to put right the wrong he did you.’

      ‘Did he tell you what he did?’ she asked urgently. ‘Did he say he’d had me locked up when I was completely sane?’

      Robert shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

      Louisa felt the breath being sucked out of her. There was no proof, only her word, that she wasn’t insane. That was why Robert had studied her so intently back at the asylum. He was weighing her up, deciding whether to believe her at all.

      ‘So how did you find me?’

      ‘I visited my great-uncle’s estate and asked around. The servants were all very tight-lipped, but eventually someone talked. Said there was a big scandal and you were taken away to be locked up. My agent, Yates, has been scouring the country for you ever since.’

      ‘What happens now?’ Louisa asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

      ‘I don’t know,’ Robert said with a rueful grin. ‘I’ve never been a guardian before.’

      ‘I can give you a few pointers on how not to do it,’ Louisa suggested, feeling some of her spirit returning to her. ‘I’ve had plenty of experience.’

      Robert looked at her tenderly and Louisa felt her heart start to pound in her chest. She clenched her fists so she wouldn’t reach up and stroke his cheek. It would be entirely inappropriate. He was her guardian, her saviour, and no doubt he was still wondering if she was quite right in the head. What she was feeling was natural, Louisa reasoned, it was gratitude for his chivalrous rescue of her from the asylum. She forced herself to look away from his serious blue eyes or she knew she’d do something she would regret later.

      Self-consciously Louisa stared down at her grubby hands and skinny arms. Her dress was shapeless and filthy, her hair hadn’t been cut or styled for over a year and she probably stank like a sewer rat. There was no way a man like Robert would find her attractive. And even after a bath and a change of clothes she wasn’t anything like the ladies he’d be used to. She’d spent her adult years festering in a cell or secluded in the country whilst her peers learnt to waltz around ballrooms and flirt with gentlemen. She was not fit to even fantasise about a man like Robert.

      ‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Robert asked.

      Louisa desperately tried not to blush.

      ‘I was wondering whether I smelt better or worse than a rotting pig,’ Louisa said with a sunny smile, her defences back up. She took a sniff. ‘Worse, I fear.’

      Robert leant forward so his face was only inches from hers. Louisa had to remind herself to breathe. He inhaled deeply.

      ‘Now I’m no connoisseur of rotting pigs,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think you smell as bad as you think you do.’

      It was the strangest compliment she’d ever received.

      ‘We’ll get you a bath when we get home,’ he said.

      Louisa immediately pictured Robert lathering her back as she luxuriated in a tub full of bubbles. The idea made her feel hot all over and she squirmed slightly. This was the last thing she needed: an infatuation with her guardian.

      She settled back into the seat of the carriage and tried to look anywhere except at Robert. It was hard when her eyes were being so rebellious. Every few seconds she found herself staring at his face, watching the tiny changes in his expression.

      ‘Where do you live?’ Louisa asked, trying to use banal conversation to distract herself.

      ‘Here.’

      The carriage rolled to a stop and Louisa glanced out. She nearly had a heart attack. It was one of the grandest London town houses she’d ever seen.

      ‘You can’t live here,’ she squeaked.

      He regarded her strangely. ‘I can assure you I’ve lived here for the last two years,’ Robert said, ‘but I’m always up for suggestions for more comfortable accommodation.’

      ‘I can highly recommend the Lewisham Asylum.’

      He turned serious again and took her by the shoulder. ‘I want you to forget that place, Louisa. I will do everything I can to make you forget it.’

      Louisa saw the care and sincerity in his eyes and already the asylum seemed a long way away.

       Chapter Three

      Robert glanced at the clock and tapped his fingers absent-mindedly on the arm of the chair. His years of service in the army had made him exceedingly punctual; he even turned up to dinner in his own house five minutes early.

      Not that there was any rush, he thought, as he sipped from the glass of whisky in his hand. He’d planned for dinner this evening to be a very informal affair with just him and Louisa present. He didn’t want to scare her, and after eating slop from wooden bowls with her fingers for over a year he doubted Louisa would welcome company at her first civilised meal.

      He glanced at the clock again, wondering if he should check on Louisa. He’d handed her over to his housekeeper, Mrs Kent, a couple of hours ago. The older woman had clucked over Louisa’s poor state and had whisked her upstairs to fuss over her.

      A little bit of fussing would do Louisa some good, Robert thought. She’d been neglected for too long. He wondered if her experiences over the last few years had inflicted any permanent damage. Only someone with a very robust character would escape unscathed from a situation such as hers.

      The door slowly swung open as Louisa stepped into the room.

      Robert stood immediately, surprised by the difference a bath could make.

      ‘Good evening, Lord Fleetwood,’ Louisa said.

      For a second Robert couldn’t find the right words. She looked completely different to the scrawny little ragamuffin he’d swept from the asylum and into his carriage earlier in the day. Granted she was still all skin and bones, but Mrs Kent had scrubbed Louisa’s skin until it was glowing, then must have turned her attention to Louisa’s hair. In place of the lank locks that had hung down Louisa’s back earlier in the day was a head of shining chestnut hair, secured into an elegant hairstyle.

      The only thing that stopped Louisa looking like a young lady of the ton was the shapeless dress she’d had to borrow from Robert’s middle-aged and voluptuous housekeeper. It hung off her like a sack, but at least it was clean and not that awful grey garment she’d spent over a year wearing.

      ‘You look lovely,’ Robert said.

      Louisa scrunched up her nose as if she didn’t believe him.

      ‘You do.’

      And she did. Robert wasn’t in the habit of giving out compliments just for the sake of it.

      ‘It feels wonderful to be clean,’ Louisa said, fiddling with her hair self-consciously. ‘For the first time in longer than I can remember I smell of roses rather than cabbage.’

      ‘Shall we go in to dinner?’ Robert asked.

      He held out his arm and waited for her to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow. She hesitated before stepping forwards and Robert realised he had a long way to go before Louisa trusted him. She was scared of even the briefest human contact. He’d seen her flinch on a couple of occasions since