In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) by Maggie Robinson

when I’m scrubbing away.”
    Louisa had a quick mental flash of a burnished man lazing in the bathtub—his chest slick with silver beads of water, his head thrown back and eyes closed—and shook it out of her head. She was not going to see any of Captain Cooper’s exposed brown skin if she could help it, no matter how curious she was. “You can close the shutters for privacy if you like.”
    “I don’t think so. The view’s too beautiful.”
    Louisa nodded. “We can agree on that at least. But you mustn’t be
too
agreeable. No more of this “Yes, dear” nonsense. I would not respect a man who doesn’t stand up for himself, and neither will my aunt. She already thinks I’m much too headstrong and need the firm hand of some man. But that’s nonsense. Maximillian and I have an equal partnership.”
    “Do we indeed? That’s not very likely, particularly for two spoiled only children. I grew up in a castle, after all.”
    “It was a château, and I wasn’t spoiled!”
    “Oh, come now. You grew up in all this splendor. I’ll have to drop bread crumbs like Hansel and Gretel to find my way back here.”
    “I can draw you a map.”
    “I may take you up on that. My entire family lived in a cottage half the size of this room.”
    It was true that the sitting room was very large. The bedroom was even larger. Louisa supposed she should get the inspection over with. The door to it was set flush into the gray-painted paneling. Really, if she was truly married, she’d feel like she lived in a battleship. If she stayed in these rooms for any length of time, they’d have to be done over. What had Aunt Grace been thinking?
    Louisa knew very well. Apart from the flowers, which the servants had probably placed, this sitting room did not say “Welcome home.”
    The bedroom was at least as her parents had left it, its furnishings quite faded from years of morning sun. She had only the dimmest memories of cuddling on the glazed chintz window seat with her mother, and even those memories were more likely wistful wishes. Louisa bustled through to her mother’s dressing room, the cupboards standing open and empty, and threw open the bathroom door. The black-and-white tiles sparkled, but she had no interest in refreshing herself just yet.
    “God blind me! The tub’s the size of a swimming pool.”
    “Never mind that. We are searching for your cot, Cap—Maximillian.” It was going to be dreadfully hard to remember to call him by the correct name. She should have practiced more on the train.
    Another door led to her father’s dressing room.
Dressing room
was a misnomer. It was really a small bedroom, complete with a single bed, a fireplace, and a comfortable leather club chair beside it. It had its own exit to the hallway, so the captain would not have to wander through the bath, her dressing room, and her bedroom and catch her in a state of dishabille. A stack of books lay on the bedside table. Had her father ever read them? Louisa knew so little about her parents’ habits.
    Captain Cooper sat down on the mattress and bounced. “Hard. But better than sleeping in a trench. And you’ll be far enough away so my restlessness won’t disturb you.”
    Ah yes. His nightmares. She would have to send for Dr. Fentress. “I’m glad it suits. I really haven’t spent time in here in years and had forgotten what was in this room. The doors have always been locked.”
    “How old were you when you lost your parents?”
    “Four.” She had her mother’s jewelry, of course, but nothing else. Aunt Grace had stripped the rooms of all personal effects. Were her parents’ things in the attics? How nice it would be to imagine her mother in one of her Worth dresses.
    “So young. My mother died when I was fifteen.”
    “Is your father still living?”
    “No.”
    Captain Cooper did not elaborate, and Louisa left the unhappy subject alone. They were both orphans, and Maximillian Norwich was as well. Killing off inconvenient