She paused. What had she always wanted in life? Adventure and exploration. Was that not what Ruth also wanted? Then why did Louisa judge Ruth’s dreams as foolish? In fact, what gave Louisa the right to judge that which another wanted with such disdain?
Good Lord,she thought, panic filling her.I’m acting no better than Abigail Swanson!
Abigail was an extremely obnoxious and disliked student who had left the school the previous month, much to everyone’s pleasure. No one wanted to be anything like her, yet here was Louisa being as judgmental.
Her stomach knotted. Mrs. Rutley had spoken the truth. She and Sir Aaron were far more similar than she cared to admit.
No, that was untrue. Sir Aaron had betrayed her, and that was inexcusable. She had handed her heart to him on a silver platter, and a day later, he stepped on it as if it were nothing more than an insect. And why? All so he could claim victory! He had not changed in the slightest. To him, nothing mattered but what he wanted. Not even her.
Louisa gave Ruth a sad look. “The story you told me about the captain?” she said. “I now understand the hurt it caused you. And why you want nothing more to do with him. It’s not worth the pain and struggle, is it?”
Ruth sighed. It sounded almost… resigned. “He was the only man for me. I couldn’t even imagine marrying any of these other boring men.”
With a nod, Louisa returned to her bedroom, her heart heavier than ever. With the covers pulled up to her chin, she considered Ruth’s words. There was no other man for Louisa, for she still loved Sir Aaron. As much as he had hurt her, she wondered if she had enough forgiveness inside her.
Burrowing deeper into the blankets, she wondered if he had any remorse for what he did, for her regret was drowning her.
ChapterThirty-Five
Sir Aaron Kirkwood, Most Noble Order of the Garter, had never felt more alone. The joy that came with securing the theater had dissipated as quickly as water droplets on a hot frying pan. Had it been worth his trouble if it also meant losing Miss Louisa?
What began as a competition between two people quickly grew into an association that he enjoyed far more than he would have ever imagined. He never considered love a necessity but now it was as important to him as the air he breathed. The trouble was, he had lost her.
He had secured their shared destiny. Why could she not see that what he had done helped them both? Yet it was too late to explain his reasoning to her. This morning, her parents would be coming to collect her, and he would never see her again. The idea of making one last attempt intrigued him, but doing so would be in vain. He had never been one for wasting time, for it was far too precious.
Moving aside the ledgers on his desk, Aaron picked up his teacup.
“You’ve become awfully quiet, Kirkwood,” Lord Walcott said from his chair across from Aaron. “Is all well with you?”
Lord Wolcott had arrived earlier to discuss a proposition for an enterprise in the production of wool. The odd thing was that Aaron could not recall making such an agreement. Perhaps the stress had made him forget.
“Up until two days ago, my future was bright,” Aaron said, leaning back in his chair. “Miss Dunston is unhappy with me for purchasing the theater.” He shook his head. “Does she not see that her plan was destined to fail?”
Crossing a leg over the opposite knee, Lord Walcott smiled. “I had no idea you could see the future. Tell me, will this season’s crops see a decent harvest?”
Aaron clenched his jaw in annoyance. He was in no mood for this man’s heckling. “Of course, I don’t know the future. But I needn’t know the future to recognize she could not win.”
Lord Walcott shrugged. “Perhaps, but we’ll never know now for certain, shall we?”
“I saved her from the embarrassment of losing,” Aaron snapped. “If it hadn’t been for Lord Ezra, I would never have seen that flaw in our little contest. All I know is that my decision was made as a way to secure our destiny together, and she wants to throw it all away.”
“Destiny, is it?” Lord Walcott said with a small chuckle. “Is that not the name that’s been given to you? The Knight of Destiny.”
Aaron nodded. “Which only reinforces the fact what I did was fitting.”
“It appears to me that you’ve been blessed with the wrong name.”
“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, frowning.
Lord Walcott took a sip of his tea. “I’d have named you the Knight Who Thinks Only of Himself.”
Indignant, Aaron slammed a fist on the desktop. “How dare you!”
“How dare I what?” the earl asked, his tone remaining conversational. “Speak the truth? I pride myself in being truthful, Kirkwood, and I stand by what I’ve said. You thought not of Miss Dunston but rather of yourself. All that has mattered to you since the beginning of this farce is what this victory would do for you. Not once did you consider what it would do for—or to—the young lady. Go on, prove I’m lying.”
Guilt tugged at the back of Aaron’s mind, but he pushed it aside. “It’s not that simple. A man must provide for his wife. I only meant to begin with the theater and expand from there. If she cannot see that—or you, for that matter—there is nothing I can do.”
Lord Walcott uncrossed his knees and placed the teacup on the desktop. When he rose, he clasped his hands in front of him. “People already speak your name, Kirkwood. And I’ve no doubt that whatever scheme you and Blackwood have devised will have the entire village talking. Perhaps your name will become synonymous with the founders of Chatsworth because of the wonderful changes you bring.”