“Oh, no,” she whispered. “You’re far from simple. When we spoke beside the vendor’s cart that day, your kind words remained with me.” Her blush covered her entire face. “Sir Aaron, no man as handsome as you has ever taken an interest in me before.”
Swallowing back a groan, Aaron said, “Miss Miriam, although I do find your company enjoyable, I’m afraid we cannot take it beyond that.”
Grief filled her features, and she lowered her head once again. “Plain,” she said beneath her breath. “It’s because I’m plain, is it not?” She looked up at him, tears glistening in her brown eyes. “Don’t lie to me, please, for Father has said that I’ll never be a great beauty.”
“Not at all,” he said soothingly. “Your appearance has nothing to do with our future—or lack thereof. You see, I’m already courting another woman.”
“Oh, I see,” Miss Miriam said. “And is she beautiful?”
Aaron nodded. “She is.”
“And have you known her long?”
“I have,” Aaron replied. “For some time now.”
A frown crossed her lips. “Yet you flirted with me and gave me hope that you might be interested in me?”
“It’s not—”
She raised a hand to forestall him. “Don’t worry, Sir Aaron. You’re not the first gentleman to use me to get to my father. Or rather my father’s wealth.” She sighed heavily. “I had hoped this time would be different, but alas, I’ve been fooled yet again.”
For years, Aaron had relied on his handsome features and charm to get what he wanted, but not once had he considered how his actions affected others. Until now.
“I’m truly sorry.”
Her laugh had a cynical note to it. “Sorry? Men like you are never truly sorry for what they do. You’ll always step on the heart of some poor, unsuspecting woman to get what you want. I pity this poor creature you’ve managed to capture, for she’ll be mourning her crushed heart as much as I mourn mine. No, I don’t wish to hear your lies any longer. Please, just go. I’d prefer to be left alone.”
With shame clinging to him, Aaron stood and considered apologizing again. Yet her look told him doing so would be in vain. Therefore, he dipped his head and left.
Soon, his carriage was trundling toward Chatsworth. What should have been a moment of revelry had become one of revulsion. Revulsion for himself. Revulsion for the choices he had made in his life. Yet something she had said was untrue. Miss Louisa should never be pitied, for Aaron had become a better man.
Yet what he had done to Miss Miriam had been wrong, and he prayed Miss Louisa did not learn of it. For he was unsure if he would be able to explain himself without driving her further away.
ChapterThirty
The opening night of the play was scheduled in two days. It was then that Louisa would learn of its fate. Not only had she sold every ticket given to her, but she had also gathered both donations and promises of donations—all carefully noted with names and their prospective amounts in a small notepad she carried in her reticule. That money was allotted for repairs and renovations to the building in which the theater was located if Mr. Barker so chose.
Before she could give Mr. Barker the list and the money, Louisa had another task to accomplish. Amy was finding the adjustment to her new life away from home difficult and had been given special permission to skip her lessons for the day so Louisa could help ease her discomfort.
“If I were to get ahead on my studies, perhaps work late into the night to complete my work or to read more, do you believe it may be possible to leave the school early? Perhaps by a year or more?” This was just one of a multitude of questions Amy had asked since leaving the school. The girl was unhappy with her lot, but she refused to say why.
Louisa remembered her first year at Mrs. Rutley’s School for Young Women. Because of her circumstances, she found being away from home exciting and pleasing. But that was not the case for all the students. Those who came from a close-knit family struggled the most. Was that why Amy was unhappy? Because she missed her family? If only the girl would confess what was troubling her, Louisa would be better able to help her!
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Amy. Whether you like it or not, Courtly Manor will be your home for the next four years.”
When Amy frowned, Louisa turned to look at the girl. “What is wrong, Amy? Why do you want to leave so badly? I can’t help you if you don’t confide in me.”
Amy’s round cheeks reddened, and she twisted a strand of blonde hair around a finger. Looking first left and then right, she whispered, “If I tell you something, you cannot repeat it.”
Louisa smiled. “I swear to you that I will not. No, what is troubling you?”
Tears welled in the girl’s blue eyes. “It’s my mother.”
A carriage trundled past them, its wheel turning up a fine cloud of dust. Once the sound of the horse’s hooves faded in the distance, Amy still had not offered any more information.
“Is she ill?” Louisa prodded.
Amy shook her head. “No.”