Lord Lockton sighed, “The Lady Louisa.”
Louisa stilled. He couldn’t possibly be talking about her, could he? Nevertheless, only moments ago, shehad beenacross the ballroom…
“Lord Whickerton’s daughter?” Lord Barrington asked to clarify.
“The very one,” the other man confirmed, warmth in his voice. “She is remarkable, is she not?”
Louisa could barely keep herself from turning to look upon the gentleman’s face, who held her in such high esteem. His voice did not sound familiar, and she had only just caught his name. Could she have made such an impression on someone she did not even know?
“Are you acquainted with her?” Lord Lockton inquired then.
Lord Barrington inhaled a slow breath. “A little,” he replied, his voice somewhat tense as though he wished to say more but did not dare.
Louisa felt a cold chill sneak down her spine. and her hands tensed upon the glass of punch she had all but forgotten.
The other man seemed to have noticed Lord Barrington’s reservations as well, for he asked, “Do you object to the lady?”
Again, Lord Barrington sighed, his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “I know you to be a man of many intellectual interests, which is why,” he sighed yet again, “I must advise you place your attentions elsewhere, yes.”
Louisa’s jaw clenched harder and harder until it felt as though it would break clear off.
“Although she is a beautiful woman,” Lord Barrington continued, “her mind deserves less adoration.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward the other man, his voice dropping to a whisper. “To be frank, she is a pretty head with nothing inside. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t know how to read.”
“I had no idea,” the other man exclaimed in astonishment as Louisa felt her insides twist and turn painfully. Tears shot to her eyes, and her jaw felt as though it would splinter at any moment. The delicious flutter in her stomach had turned to a block of ice, and without another thought, Louisa fled the scene.
Her feet carried her out of the ballroom and into a deserted hallway where she sank down in a puddle of misery, the glass of punch still clutched in her hands. Fortunately, no one came upon her there, giving her a much-needed moment to collect herself.
Still, the words she had overheard would forever be burnt into her memory for Lord Barrington had spoken the truth.
As much as it pained her to admit it—even if only to herself—Louisa did not know how to read. She could write her name, but not much more than that. Never had she been able to make sense of letters and words and their meaning.
Still, to this day, no one knew.
No one had ever suspected.
Until now.
Until Lord Barrington.
How had he discovered her secret? Or had it merely been a lucky guess?
Whatever it had been, it had shattered Louisa’s delicate, little world. Somehow, she had found a way to stand tall even without the skills that everyone took for granted. She had developed ways to distract others where reading and writing were concerned. Somehow, she had always found a way. She was clever and ingenious and prided herself on her quick wit.
Still, deep down, Louisa had always thought of herself as inferior. In every other regard, she and her siblings were simply different. Different in many ways. Each had their own special talent. Each possessed a unique way of looking at the world. Each used their mind in different ways.
In this one regard, however, Louisa was inferior. She had always known it, and now Lord Barrington’s words had confirmed what she had always known to be true.
Never would she forgive him for this off-hand remark.
Never.
Never again would she be able to look at him and not remember this crushing feeling of loss and disappointment.
To be considered wanting.
To not be worthy of another.
To be inferior.
