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He banged on the door with the silver head of his walking stick.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” the butler said with a nod.
“I am here to see Miss Drake.”
“I am sorry, Your Grace. Miss Drake is not at home.”
“Please inform her that I am here,” he demanded.
The butler stiffened. “Sir, she is not at home. For anyone.”
Louisa wouldn’t even see him. Emotions swirled in him from anger to disappointment to guilt. He had done this by not being honest with her. If he hadn’t let the guilt of his actions over Ainsley show, she would have believed him when he said he hadn’t paid Collingwood.
“Your Grace? Is there something else I might assist you with?”
“No.”
He returned to the carriage and banged on the roof to gain the driver’s attention. “Take me to Hell.”
LOUISA WATCHED HARRY leave from the window of her bedroom. Her finger traced the square windowpane. A part of her wanted to run down the stairs and jump into his carriage. But she could not. At some point, she would see him. She could force Davis to refuse him entry to the house, but her mother would insist she attend the next ball. That only gave her two days to determine how she would act. He might even try to cause a scene.
No. Harry would not do that. He hated being the subject of the gossipmongers’ bitter talk.
But he might attempt to get her alone.
She could never be al
one. Tessa or Emma would be with her at every moment. That would take care of the issue, until the next ball. Or the one after that. At some point, she would have to face him.
Her door swung open, and Emma strode into her room. “Why did you refuse him?”
Louisa closed her eyes. “This is not one of your penny novels, Emma.”
“No, it is not. This is your future happiness at stake.”
She had no illusions of her future now. She would live her life, watching her sisters with their husbands and their children. She would be the eccentric aunt who never married. The one, her nieces and nephews, would always wonder about. And she would love each one like the children she could never have.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. She wanted a husband and children of her own. No, she only wanted Harry.
“What did you say?” Emma asked. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I need to know who paid Collingwood.”
“And how do you propose we do that? I doubt asking him outright would work.”
Louisa shook her head as she crossed the room to her bed. “I don’t know.”
“Whoever paid him will not be happy that he hasn’t completed the task. Perhaps we attend Lady Holcombe’s fancy dress ball. If we are disguised, we might be able to overhear a bit of conversation.”
“I suppose we could try.”
“You don’t sound very convinced,” Emma remarked.
“I highly doubt anyone would be careless enough to get into such a discussion at a ball. Masked or not.” Disappointment slid over Louisa. She must discover who paid Collingwood. The more time away from Harry, the more she missed him. But the lingering doubt remained. He’d paid Ainsley, so it stood to reason that he would have compensated Collingwood. Except, her mind refused to allow that he’d paid the viscount.
Then why had he paid Ainsley? Kingsley question still reverberated in her mind. She’d told him that Harry paid Ainsley to stop his courtship. So why did he ask that question?
“Emma, why do you think he would have offered Ainsley five thousand to quit his courtship?”
