Louisa smiled at her reflection one last time before applying a dab of perfume to her wrists and behind her ears.
“I must admit,” Ruth said, “you do look beautiful today.”
Louisa gaped at her friend’s reflection. Ruth never offered anyone a compliment. Was this a sign of change? Yet before she could ask, Ruth had to ruin it. As usual.
“Mr. Barker will appreciate the extra effort you’re spending on yourself today. Just be certain Mrs. Rutley isn’t hurt by it.”
Unable to stop herself, Louisa laughed, and Ruth joined in. Mr. Barker was a tall, thin man of an age with Mrs. Rutley. Whenever he was in the presence of their headmistress, he had a propensity to stutter and trip over his own feet. Just last year during the tour, he was in the middle of a speech when he caught sight of Mrs. Rutley and stopped talking midsentence.
As he gawked at her, Ruth had burst into a fit of giggles, making Mr. Barker’s cheeks grow so red that one would have thought he had spent too long in the sun. Ruth had earned herself a weekend restricted to her room while the other students made their weekly visit to the village the following weekend.
Louisa paused and strained to listen. “We’d best hurry. I can hear the others downstairs.”
Indeed, the foyer was already filled with a dozen wide-eyed young girls. Louisa’s heart went out to the new students. She remembered how difficult it was to be away from home and alone for the first time. Therefore, she had taken it upon herself to help them in any way she could.
Unity and Theodosia stood beside Mrs. Rutley in their matching deep-blue jackets over pale-blue walking dresses. With their curly brown hair, large brown eyes, and high cheekbones, they considered themselves twins. It did not matter to them that Theodosia was far taller and Unity’s nose was larger. Or the simple fact they were not related. Either way, neither was seen without the other. Even their life plans were the same—to travel to America. What they would do there remained to be seen.
Mrs. Rutley gave two sharp claps, and the students fell silent. “It appears we’re all here. Now, remember. You’re to be on your best behavior. If you have questions for Mr. Barker, reserve them for the appropriate time. And do keep them relegated to the theater.” She gave Ruth a sharp glare. “Asking what an actor wears beneath his robes is highly inappropriate.”
Several of the girls tittered at this.
Louisa had to stifle a laugh. Ruth made no attempt. She was the reason Mrs. Rutley gave that warning, after all.
* * *
With long strides, Sir Aaron Kirkwood moved swiftly through his home of Hearsely Estate. He had purchased the home six months earlier but had taken up residence only two months ago. With seven bedrooms, a ballroom, and an impressive library, the estate would be his home for the foreseeable future. If all went according to plan.
Aaron wished to open the finest gentleman’s club outside of London, and Chatsworth seemed the perfect location. With a growing population and an ever-expanding High Street, he wished to use the village as a way to make a name for himself. One not associated with his being a knight. Or how he had received such a commendation.
After receiving his knighthood into one of the most prestigious orders, he had found his new position complicated to navigate. At first, he had bragged to anyone willing to listen—after all, that was what his betters seemed to do at every turn. But it was not long before he realized that his ramblings drew nothing more than a polite smile from those of the aristocracy. They had not been as impressed as he had hoped.
Yet as the rumors surrounding how he had earned his title became more and more exaggerated, his betters began to change their tune. It was believed that Aaron had fought off a band of highwaymen in order to protect the Princess. That the version so many had come to believe was far from the truth mattered little to Aaron.
Oh, he had encountered the Princess as she was being escorted by the Royal Guards. And yes, he had “rescued” her… in a sense. An overexcited, inebriated man had yelled out and reached for her. Aaron, having reacted faster than the guards, subdued the man. Everything that followed was a blur—and soon entered into the realm of folklore.
After being knighted for his “bravery,” the stories of his heroism began to spread. One man became five. A drunkard became thieves who then became a band of highwaymen. The streets of London became a dark forest. Swords, blood, and corpses lay in the wake of a battle, and a kingdom was forever grateful.
And Aaron was named a hero.
Aaron shook his head as he entered the library. He went to stand before a white marble fireplace. Above it hung his most prized possession—the Sword of Destiny. The old piece of steel was said to be more than three hundred years old and was assumed to have belonged to a distant relative of Aaron’s. It was used at Bosworth Field during the final battle of the War of the Roses when Henry Tudor and those who rallied with him had prevailed. Thus, changing the destiny of England forever.
Aaron’s ancestor, a man whose blood flowed through his veins, was a true knight and had fought in that battle. It had been he who led the charge that ended the life of Richard III.
Yet gazing upon that sword, the symbol of bravery for the man who had wielded it, Aaron often wondered about his own destiny. His father was a brilliant businessman who had earned the admiration and praise of his peers. They hailed him even after his death. And although Aaron managed his family’s wealth quite well, he had nothing of which to boast.
Well, besides the exceptionally handsome looks with which he had been blessed. As men of means used their wealth to get what they wanted, Aaron had come to rely on his strong jaw and straight nose. Being dubbed a knight, and the story that surrounded it, had helped to heighten his fame.
And as the story changed and grew, so did Aaron’s pride.
He had entered into societal circles of men he never thought possible. Barons, earls, and even a duke had invited him to several gatherings. An impossibility without his new title. One thing all the men had in common was their arrogance. And Aaron quickly understood that the more self-assured a man was, the more respected he became. Power came with his newfound sense of self-importance.
There were times, however, when his arrogance left him feeling empty. Not when it came to his looks, of course. His mother had praised his handsomeness from a young age, and he had no reason to doubt that truth.
Yet what good was an alluring face when most ladies could not be trusted? He had learned early on that their ways were dubious at best. Flirty smiles, blushing cheeks, all were traps to lure a man into their lives and make them weak. Once a woman had her hooks in a man, the suffering began.
Thankfully, his mother and sister were honorable women who lived a moral and just life. Never had he witnessed them acting coquettishly to get what they wanted. Nor did they speak with a sharp tongue. They made their requests with integrity and virtue. And Aaron missed them terribly. Regardless of what he thought of his family, Aaron’s idea of marriage contradicted the emerging trend. Love? Grown men speaking of their wives as equals, walking around wearing broad grins akin to those of drunkards, was outrageous. They might as well sell their brains to Luigi Galvani—or whoever performed such studies these days. After all, they no longer had any use for that organ! The wedded state was meant to bring in the next generation and nothing more. He was far too intelligent to fall for the feminine wiles. Instead, since the age of fourteen, he had used their tricks against them. A smile, a light touch on a lady’s arm, and they were close to fainting. His goal was never to get them into bed but for any other type of gain that would lead him to an introduction to someone who could give him what he needed. Whatever that was.
But his gift of good looks was only made better by his new title. That and the new moniker that had been bestowed upon him. One he had accepted with pride.