Helgate’s words in the tavern echoed in his head.
Dear God.
He was in love with Louisa Talbot.
The truth struck him with the force of a fist to the gut. Oliver stood frozen, staring at her through the glass, dumbfounded. He had denied it earlier, fought against it, even, but the moment his gaze fell on her now, everything inside him shifted. Heknew. Heloved her. Completely. Madly. Recklessly. Loved her. This angel—so fierce, so clever—had undone him in every possible way.
As if she could sense him, Louisa turned. Her eyes widened the moment they met his, her entire body jerking in fright.
Confound it!
The last thing he wanted was to startle her.
For one breathless moment, he hesitated. Then, slowly, he tapped lightly on the glass, hoping she recognized it was him.
She did. Her eyes widened further, and relief flooded him when she sprang to her feet and rushed to the door. She flung it open, shock, disbelief, and confusion, flashing across her features. “Oliver? What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” Oliver said softly.
“Could this not have waited?” She held up a hand. “Wait, is this how you entered the last time?”
He shook his head, motioning to his bare feet. “No, that time I picked the lock of your side door on the ground floor, but with Talbot in residence, I didn’t want to take the chance of being heard or seen.”
“So tonight you took the chance of dying?” Her gaze darted to the balustrade and back.
Oliver shrugged, drinking in the sight of her, unable to look away. “I have something important to tell you. After that, I’ll leave.”
She stepped aside. “Very well, come inside before your feet turn blue and fall off!”
A hint of a smile touched Oliver’s lips. “Well, I wouldn’t want that.” The knot in his chest slowly started to loosen. He’d fully expected to be chased away, but instead, she’d invited him into her chamber. He inwardly cursed as his gaze fell on the bed, flashes of her atop him raiding his mind.
He hadn’t thought this through.
The moment the door shut behind him, he jerked, turning to face her, and any words died on his lips.
Chapter Twenty-One
Louisa’s brows furrowed.The duke stared at her in silence, his expression unreadable, as if the very air had been stolen from his lungs. Her own breath faltered as well. She studied his face, tracing every small line with her eyes, searching for any sign of change in the short time they had been apart.
Within the far reaches of her mind, in some obscure corner, she understood this line of thinking was a bit skewed. But that faint awareness was overshadowed by part joy and part relief that he hadn’t just left without a word. That even if this was his final goodbye, she would cling to his presence for as long as she could.
“I thought you would be on your way to London by now.”
“I couldn’t leave.”
“Why not?” She hated the hopeful flutter in her heart. “What was so important that you had to tell me?”
He hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket and removed a black jewelry box. Her stomach flipped. Surely he hadn’t come to... to... propose! No. That was absurd. And the Duke of Mortimer may be many things, but not absurd. She need not have stretched her imagination that far, however.
“I came to apologize.”
“For what?” He had nothing to apologize for. Unless... Her heart sank. Had he truly been part of her kidnapping? Could she forgive him if he had been in some way? Did she want to know if he had?
No, she didn’t.
She lifted her hands, shaking her head, a silent plea for him not to say another word, but his words were faster.
“I shouldn’t have left the way I did earlier.”
