Secrets Behind Locked Doors. Laura Martin

as he escorted her into dinner. He watched her face as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated before sitting down himself. She was wary of every movement, but seemed to relax once he’d sat down.

      ‘We’ve got a lot to discover about each other,’ Robert said as the footman brought the first course to the table.

      Louisa smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He supposed she was nervous of giving too much of herself away.

      ‘What you like to eat, for example.’

      As she realised Robert wasn’t going to push her for more personal facts quite yet, Louisa relaxed.

      ‘I used to be rather fussy,’ she said, eyeing the bowl of soup in front of her. ‘My mama would despair at mealtimes.’

      ‘And now?’

      ‘Now I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t eat.’ After a mouthful of soup she added, ‘Except gruel. Serve that and I’m walking out.’

      ‘I’ll tell cook madam is not a fan of the gruel.’

      ‘Or porridge,’ Louisa added. ‘I do like this soup, though.’

      Robert could tell she was holding back. She wanted to spoon the deliciously warm liquid into her mouth and not bother with any conversation, but even after a year locked away, her upbringing as a well-mannered young woman shone through.

      ‘What else do we have on the menu?’ Louisa asked, her eyes sparkling in anticipation.

      Robert was glad—she needed to put some more flesh on her frame. A few weeks of good cooking and she’d be much healthier and able to face the world again.

      He shrugged. ‘I’ve got no idea.’

      Louisa frowned. ‘But it’s your house, isn’t it?’

      He nodded.

      ‘Then how can you have no idea what’s for dinner.’

      The truth was he had little interest in food. For years in the army he’d got used to eating whatever was available. More often than not it would be a sinewy rabbit or a watered-down stew. After a while he’d stopped noticing how the food tasted and had eaten it for sustenance only.

      And since he’d returned from the war...well, nothing was the same, not even the fancy dinners he used to enjoy.

      ‘I let cook decide.’

      Louisa looked at him as though he were mad.

      ‘Every night you could have anything, anything, you desire, and you let your cook decide.’

      ‘She does make very good choices,’ Robert said, motioning to the two empty bowls of soup the footman was whisking away.

      ‘Even so, I’d love to choose exactly what I was going to eat each and every day.’

      Robert decided not to reveal he wouldn’t notice if it was a pheasant or a field mouse set down in front of him.

      ‘At the asylum we had gruel every day,’ Louisa said, surprising Robert with this little snippet of information, ‘and porridge for breakfast.’

      Hence her dislike for gruel and porridge, he assumed.

      ‘And when I lived with my guardian he used to restrict my food if I did even the slightest thing wrong, but the servants often saved me a few scraps and leftovers.’

      No wonder she’d devoured the soup as if it were her last meal on earth. Nine years of deprivation would do that to anyone.

      ‘Would you like to help Mrs Rust plan the meals for the next couple of weeks?’ Robert asked, surprising himself with the question.

      For a second Louisa’s eyes lit up with excitement, then she became suspicious.

      ‘I’d love that,’ she said slowly, ‘if you truly are planning on keeping me around. But I’ll understand if you decide to sell me to that travelling fair. I am quite expensive to feed after all.’

      The humour was back, her protective armour against the world.

      Robert stopped himself from reaching out and taking her hand. He knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of contact yet. Instead, he leant forwards slightly and looked her in the eye.

      ‘You’re not going anywhere, Louisa,’ he said. ‘I’m your guardian and I promise you have a home here with me for as long as you want or need it.’

      ‘The last thing you want is a half-crazy penniless orphan getting in your way.’

      This time Robert couldn’t stop himself reaching out to touch her, it was an automatic gesture.

      ‘You’re not crazy, Louisa,’ he said seriously.

      And he believed what he was telling her. All his doubts from the asylum had been quashed a while ago. Louisa wasn’t insane, she was the victim of an awful old man’s plot to steal her inheritance.

      ‘Sometimes I feel it.’

      It was said so quietly Robert barely heard her.

      No, she wasn’t insane, Robert thought, but she’d been badly hurt by her experiences and he’d have to remember not to push her too hard.

      ‘You’re not crazy,’ he repeated, ‘and you need to stop telling yourself that you are.’

      The footman chose that moment to bring in the main course. Robert lifted his hand from Louisa’s and sat back, watching as she tried to conceal her emotions.

      They ate in silence for a few minutes. Robert could tell Louisa was still thinking about his declaration and wondering if she could trust him. He knew the best thing to do was to give her time.

      ‘How will it work?’ she asked eventually.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘You being my guardian, me living here. The whole thing.’

      Robert could tell that how he answered her would be very important.

      ‘I’ve never been a guardian before,’ Robert said, buying himself some time to think. ‘I’m not sure what to do for the best.’

      The military man in him perked up and Robert started to formulate a plan.

      ‘But I guess it all depends on you.’

      Louisa leant forwards. He’d at the very least got her to engage.

      ‘For instance, would you prefer to live in town or the country?’

      ‘You have a house in the country?’ Louisa asked.

      Robert thought of his extensive estate far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

      ‘I have a house in the country,’ he confirmed.

      She took another bite of beef and chewed whilst she thought.

      ‘I’ve never lived in London before,’ she said slowly. ‘At least not as a free woman.’

      The Lewisham Asylum didn’t count.

      ‘Would you like to?’

      ‘I’d like to give it a go.’

      ‘Then why don’t we plan on spending a few weeks in London. I will have to employ a chaperone for you, a companion.’

      Society would be scandalised at the thought of a gently bred young woman spending even a night alone in a house with a bachelor such as he, but Robert knew his servants would be discreet and he had no intention of telling anyone.

      Louisa nodded, spearing a piece of carrot with her fork. She lifted it up to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.

      ‘Tomorrow we’ll visit the modiste and get you some clothes of your own,’ Robert said, looking at Mrs Kent’s sizeable dress.

      The