Ruth took a wrap from her bed and placed it around her shoulders. “No, I meant nothing like that. You don’t do those things.” She smiled. “I saw how you used them to distract Sir Aaron at the theater. It worked then and will do so again when he calls on you.” She patted at her pockets as if searching for something and nodded. “The sooner you accept it, the better off you’ll be.”
Once Ruth was gone, Louisa thought of the day at the theater. It was true. She had pushed out her lower lip, had battled her eyelashes at him a bit more than usual. Ruth was right. Sir Aaron had even lost the ability to speak.
Yet her actions had been justified. How else was she to distract a rogue from tempting impressionable young schoolgirls? Therefore, Louisa was certainly not the flirt Ruth claimed her to be.
And why squander what can be used for good? Even if it was for her own gain.
What if she invited the knight to tea? Would she be able to appeal to his sense of self-righteousness and get him to stop his antics?
She smiled. It truly was a brilliant idea. Yet where did the knight reside? Well, if anyone knew the goings on in the village, it would be Mrs. Shepherd.
Making her way to the kitchen, Louisa stopped in the doorway to watch as the cook kneaded a ball of dough, whistling a merry tune.
“You know, it’s impolite to stare, even at a cook,” Mrs. Shepherd said without looking up from her work. Louisa laughed, and the cook wiped her hands on a cloth. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Are you familiar with Sir Aaron Kirkwood? He’s recently moved to the area.”
“The knight?” Mrs. Shepherd asked as she returned to her kneading. “I am.”
“Do you happen to know where he resides?”
The cook grunted as she pounded a fist into the dough. “I do.”
Louisa sighed. “May I ask where that is? I would like to write him a letter to… thank him for all he’s done.”
She had meant to say that the correspondence had been due to the story he had shared at the theater. Instead, she recalled the way he had kissed her. Which could not happen again. Regardless, she certainly could not tell Mrs. Shepherd she hoped to invite him to the school so she could flirt with him.
“I’ll tell you, but you’d best be careful with that one,” Mrs. Shepherd said, placing a floury hand on her hip. “There are all sorts of rumors about him.”
Despite Mrs. Rutley’s insistence that one should never listen nor share rumors, Mrs. Shepherd spent a great deal of time doing both. Which was why most of the girls went to the cook rather than the headmistress when it came to learning the truth about someone.
“Oh?” Louisa asked, pulling her brows up innocently. “What sort of rumors?”
“I’ve heard he likes to have his way with women,” the cook replied. “He’s one of those men who thinks he can kiss any woman he wants whenever he wants.”
Louisa sighed. He was as vile as she had suspected. When he had kissed her, her body had taken on a life of its own, but that did not meansheenjoyed it. Granted, her thoughts were muddled for several hours afterward. And she could still feel his hands gripping her arms two days later. But that was a natural reaction to a man’s touch.
Should she have fought it? Of course. Was that not the very reason she had fled the library when she had? Plus, she had consumed more wine than usual. Alcohol also erased one’s senses.
“He bought the old Yeats’ estate on the other side of the village. I imagine you can write him there.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Shepherd,” Louisa said. “I believe I’ll do that now.”
Soon, she was sitting at the small desk in her room, a piece of parchment in front of her and a quill pen in her hand. She would have to balance flattery with propriety. It seemed like ages before she felt ready, and once she began, the words flowed freely.
When she finished, she read over the correspondence once more. Satisfied, she sealed the letter and went in search of Mrs. Rutley. When she was unable to find her, Louisa returned to the kitchen. Mrs. Shepherd was just dropping a dollop of jam on the tarts she had baked.
“Have you seen Mrs. Rutley?” Louisa asked. “I can’t seem to find her.”
“She had to go into the village,” Mrs. Shepherd replied. “Won’t be back for at least another hour is my guess. What is it you need?”
“To send off this,” Louisa replied, showing the letter. “Oh well, I suppose it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Leave it on her desk,” the cook said. “She’ll see it sent.” With a grunt, she leaned over and picked up her dropped spoon.
Not wanting to bother the cook any longer, Louisa went to Mrs. Rutley’s office and set the letter on her desk. Then her curiosity piqued upon seeing a letter with a familiar postmark. Conflict rose in her. Her nosiness had gotten her into trouble over the years. One particular instance had revealed a terrible secret she wished she could forget. A secret that made her the person she was today.
A person she did not always like all that much.