‘I understand.’
‘Do you. Do youreally?’ How could anyone? But Louisa wanted him to. Shecravedit.
‘When my cousin told me I wasn’t a true Bainbridge and I confronted my parents, they said nothing would change. Then Felicity was born, was diagnosed with leukaemia.’
Matteo drained his glass. The waiter came and refilled it. Topped up hers.
‘I was a little boy who was afraid he’d lose his sister,’ he said, not quite looking at her. ‘My parents didn’t care. They sent me to boarding school, where I stayed. Forgotten. Everything I’d come to believe, that I should have parents who cared about me, a stable family—that ended. And I swore when I got older that I’d never be in that position again. So, I understand, Louisa. I understand all too well.’
She reached out to place her hand over his. Stopped. Matteo’s face had hardened, the anger palpable in the air. She knew what it was like to be surrounded by sympathy when you didn’t want it. When you wanted to forget, to move on. The problem was, you followed yourself wherever you went.
‘That’s what drove you,’ she said.
‘I created a life. I created a business. Alldespitemy family.’
He’d been so shut off from her, and yet it was as if he’d opened a door to himself, no matter what it must cost him. What would it be like to share the burden of what had happened to her? Sure, she’d spoken to a psychologist in those early days. A person who was professional and at arm’s length. But the only other person close to her who had known what had happened was Mae, and she was gone.
In that moment, Louisa had never felt so alone in the world. With no one to speak to when dark thoughts and nightmares had threatened to crush her. No friends, no family. She was orphaned in all respects. Yet Matteo was here. He seemed to want to listen.
And perhaps if he knew what had happened to her, he’d understand why Easton Hall was her safe place, one she never wanted to leave.
Matteo knew he was almost glaring at Louisa, daring her to say anything about what had happened to him. Yet she sat there in empathetic silence. When she’d reached out her hand to touch him, he’d craved her softness even though he didn’t need it. He’d spent his life not needing others, because people let you down. He had himself, and that was enough.
Yet the disappointment when she pulled her hand away. He took a slow breath. No. He wasn’t looking for sympathy. He’d been trying to understand, because if he was going to get Louisa to leave Easton Hall then she needed to trust him. To feel a connection.
It had all been calculated until the words had simply...left him. Things he’d spoken to no one about. Not even his own sister. How could he gripe about those old wounds to her when Felicity had almost died? So he’d cursed his family to hell instead. Yet why had the words felt so good leaving him? Like ridding himself of some kind of poison. All he knew was that he’d told her more than he’d planned, things that he tended to keep to himself, because if she understood him, perhaps she’d let him understand her.
He was sure there were things that she desired. She was just hesitant to reach out and take them. Well, he feared nothing.
‘It seems we’ve both done thingsdespiteour families,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘My family cast me aside. Your parents passed away. It must have been hard, losing them so young.’
The waiter came and cleared their plates. Placed another exquisite dish on the table. A traditional fish speciality. He hoped Louisa enjoyed fish. Her first mouthful of the gnocchi seemed to have transported her in some kind of orgasmic bliss. He’d become instantly hard, realising that everything was new to her.
What he could introduce her to. All kinds of new experiences. How would she react? Those intimate sketches exposed her fantasies. He could show her reality. A heat began to stoke deep inside at the possibilities. Would she look at him with the same pleasure as she had eating a new food? How would she look being touched intimately for the first time...?
No. Once again he needed to remind his body that his job wasn’t to seduce her. It was to convince her to leave Easton Hall. Yet wasn’t that a seduction of sorts? He’d simply have to strike the right balance.
One that retained his sanity in the process.
‘It was hard losing my father.’ Louisa toyed with her fork, turning it as if staring at the candlelight reflected from the silver. Almost as if she was avoiding something. He guessed this would be a difficult conversation for her. At least she’d loved her parents. Had something to lose. His parents were still alive, and he’d lost them all the same.
Or perhaps, he’d never really had them at all.
He tried some of the fish, which was superb as always. Letting the silence stretch. It wasn’t a comfortable one, but he knew that when people tried to fill it, they often made important disclosures. Louisa wasn’t just a closed book, it was as if she were one written in a foreign language that he needed an interpreter to decipher.
‘My mother...’
Here it was. The key, he was sure.
‘She was arrested before she died.’
Everything in him stilled. Mae had never said anything to him about this, only that Louisa’s story was a tragic one and hers to tell. He’d assumed that the tragedy was the death of both parents.
Clearly not.
Now he saw the space she’d left in the conversation as one for him to fill. As if what she had to say was too big and terrible to say without prompting. She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth, the evening taking on a terrible weight.
