Louisa stifled an annoyed sigh. The girl was not making this easy! “Do you miss her? Is that why you want to return home so soon?”
Amy shook her head again.
“Well?” Louisa asked, her patience running thin. “I cannot offer advice if you keep your troubles to yourself. I know sharing worries can be difficult, but you can trust me.” She pushed out her lower lip for effect. “Or is it that you don’t trust me? I thought we were friends, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Oh, no!” Amy said, her eyes widening. “I do trust you. It’s just that… well… Oh, this is so difficult!” She sighed. “Mother has this friend, you see. I was able to keep them apart before, but with me here, I no longer can.”
Louisa frowned. What an odd reaction. A young child being jealous of a parent spending time with someone other than her was one thing, but a girl of fourteen? Quite odd indeed.
“You cannot have her all to yourself,” Louisa said. “Sometimes women need someone to whom they can confide, someone to share things they cannot share with their children. You should not be upset when your mother wishes to spend time with a friend. This friend, she will never replace—”
“He,” Amy corrected.
The sudden realization of the situation made Louisa come to an abrupt halt. “Oh, I see. So, this friend is… well, more than a friend?”
Amy sighed, and the two resumed their walk. “Father is away often. When Lord Tutton first called, I thought it odd. Yet, who was I to wonder? There was always a reasonable excuse—a document to deliver or an inquiry to make. Then one day I overheard them talking in the parlor. I’ll not repeat what they said, but there was no mistaking the intimacy behind their words. After that, I made sure I appeared whenever they were alone. I was in search of a book I had left behind, or I ran out of thread for my needlework. Whatever excuse I could come up with, I used. If she left the house, I invited myself.” She dropped her gaze. “I acted the petulant child at times, but I had no choice. I couldn’t allow her to go off on her own. What if they had plans to meet?”
“Are they aware you know about the… situation?” Louisa asked.
“No,” Amy replied. “I’ve not told her I know.”
Louisa placed a calming hand on Amy’s arm. “I’m truly sorry,” she said, her heart heavy for the poor girl. “The only advice I can offer is this. When she comes to visit, speak to her about your concerns. Only when our problems are aired, can we address them. Either confront her or let it go. But if you choose the latter, you must also accept that nothing will change. I’m not saying she’ll stop seeing this gentleman, but that is not for you to decide.”
“Do you speak so openly with your parents?” Amy asked with surprise.
Louisa went to nod but stopped. That was untrue. Yet explaining her situation would only put an added burden on the girl, and she could not do that. This was about Amy. “It’s complicated,” she replied.
When they arrived at the village proper and were heading toward the theater, a well-dressed young man with wild blond hair and protruding teeth stopped and grinned at Louisa.
“Well, hello, Miss Dunston,” he said.
It took a moment for Louisa to recognize him. She had met Mr. Rupert Scarsdale at the party Lord Walcott had hosted the previous month.
“Mr. Scarsdale,” she said, bobbing a quick curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
He beamed at her. “Not as much as it is for me. I was planning on writing to you today.”
“Is that so?” Louisa asked. “How fortunate that we’ve run into one another, then. Now you can simply tell me directly what you meant to write.”
Mr. Scarsdale drew in a deep breath. “After we spoke at Lord Walcott’s party, I spent a great deal of thought to what you said.”
“You mean about the theater?”
He gave an exasperated shake of his head. “Miss Dunston, at the risk of being too bold, it was clear that you took an interest in me. ‘Any lady would be honored to have me call on her.’ That was what you said. Therefore, I would like permission to do just that.”
By the time he finished, his face was red to his ears, but his smile was broad. Yet if she and Sir Aaron were courting, any sort of encouragement on her part would be unkind.
“I appreciate your offer, Mr. Scarsdale,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “If it were not for Sir Aaron, I would consider—”
“You’d consider?” Mr. Scarsdale interrupted with a contemptuous laugh. “That is a far cry from what you proposed that night.” He lowered his voice, a sneer crossing his lips. “Don’t play innocent with me. You flirted with me in hopes of getting a donation for the theater. No matter if you were spoken for or not, you had no intention of allowing me to call on you, did you?”
Louisa went to argue, but she found she could not do so. Everything he said of her was true.
“As I thought,” he said, the contempt coating his tone. “Good day to you.”
Guilt tore at Louisa. How many men had she treated as callously? Too many. And long before this quest to save the theater. Doing so always uplifted her and made her feel important and worthy. But it had come at a high cost.
“Don’t let his lies upset you,” Amy offered. “He’s clearly an irritable man. Look at it as a narrow escape from what could have been a terrible situation.”