
This was so unusual for Louisa, that I stood still, nonplussed, before I closed my arms around her and pulled her close.
Once, three years ago, Louisa had come to me for comfort. On that rainy, hot night in Spain, her husband had told her of his plan to end their marriage. She'd come, weeping, to my tent in the middle of the night, and I'd held her as I held her now, stroking her golden hair and giving her words of comfort.
"I will do everything I can, Louisa. I will help him. Never fear that."
She laid her head on my shoulder. It was unlike her to crumble, but tonight she had endured much. I wondered whether she had known about Mrs. Harper before this, and I silently cursed Brandon for raining everything upon her at once.
I held her for a time. The coal fire flickered quietly on the hearth, and rain pattered against the dark windows.
At last, Louisa lifted her head and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. "Forgive me, Gabriel. But I feel as if I cannot breathe."
I smoothed her hair. "Louisa, I know magistrates; I even know a man whom magistrates fear. Your husband will be released and brought home to you. I swear this."
Her gray eyes, luminous with tears, contained resignation and a strange finality. I realized with a jolt that she believed Brandon guilty.
"Louisa," I began, and then I felt a draft on my cheek.
The door had opened, and Lady Breckenridge stood on the threshold.
The widowed Viscountess Breckenridge was thirty years old. She was slender but not overly thin and had thick black hair and dark blue eyes. She was quite attractive and knew it, and I had let that attraction entrance me quite often of late.
Lady Breckenridge was outspoken and acerbic, but she could show touches of kindness, such as when she had purchased me a new walking stick when my old one had been ruined. She also enjoyed bringing up-and-coming artists and musicians to the attention of society, and she lived well in her status as widow of a wealthy and titled gentleman and only daughter of another wealthy and titled gentleman.
