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Madam Foster’s face immediately crumpled. She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

“No, no, my dear!” she exclaimed. “It’s us who are sorry.” She glanced at her husband. “The whole of Thebarton feels for your family in your tragic situation. And clearly your young brother was taken advantage of.”

“Foolhardy!” Foster barked out, earning a disapproving look from his wife.

“No, no,” he amended quickly, “I don’t mean the boy. He has his youth to excuse him. I mean whichever fool loaned him the money. A risky business.”

Rosalie bit her lip to prevent herself from replying sharply. She knew it would do no good. Far too many people thought as the Fosters did—as if the attention of the Legacy was a diseasethat might be catching for anyone who did business with her family. It was the reason her father had made so little headway, having to take on only low profit or high difficulty trades.

“I must request your discretion,” Rosalie said. “I wouldn’t wish others to know about Vernon’s misstep.”

“Of course, my dear,” Madam Foster said quickly. “We won’t breathe a word.”

“Naturally, naturally,” her husband murmured, clearly ready for the conversation to end.

Rosalie got herself out of the room with as much grace as she could muster, but she hadn’t made it to the front door when a breathy voice called for her to wait. She paused as Blythe dashed down the staircase toward her, clearly in a hurry.

She came to a stop in front of Rosalie.

“I’m sorry about my parents,” she said in a rush. “They’re just afraid.”

Rosalie nodded, not sure what to say.

“I was listening at the door,” Blythe continued shamelessly, “and I couldn’t do nothing. I know it won’t be enough, but—” She hesitated and thrust out a small leather pouch.

“You can have my allowance,” she finished in a rush. “I haven’t spent any of it this quarter.”

Rosalie stared at her, still silent, too caught off guard to think of a reply.

“The Legacy can’t mistake this for an investment, right?” Blythe asked anxiously. “It’s just a gift between friends. So you mustn’t pay it back.”

Rosalie was finally shaken from her stupor. “That’s very kind of you, Blythe,” she said, truly touched. “But I couldn’t possibly take your money. As you said, it’s not enough to cover the debt, so I’ll have to find another solution anyway. There’s no reason you should go without for months—or risk angering your parents—when it wouldn’t solve the problem.”

“Oh.” Blythe slowly withdrew the pouch, looking crestfallen. “I just…”

Rosalie watched her curiously. Did she feel guilty for taking the place that had once been Rosalie’s? Whatever the motivation it was a kind gesture.

“Thank you,” Rosalie said sincerely. “I truly appreciate the offer.”

Blythe perked up, smiling back. “I’m about to go for tea and cake at the Mortar and Pestle,” she said.

Rosalie waited, unsure why Blythe was sharing her schedule. It seemed an abrupt change of topic after her kind gesture. And even more puzzling was the mixture of pleasure, superiority, and underlying uncertainty in the look Blythe had fixed on Rosalie.

“If you’d like to come,” Blythe finished, clearly thrown off by Rosalie’s confusion.

“Oh.” Rosalie blinked. That explained Blythe’s expression.

Despite her compassion, she couldn’t help enjoying having Rosalie in a position of humility before her. Although Blythe had taken Rosalie’s social position with their peers, Rosalie herself had never acted with subservience toward her. She had refused to carve a new place in the group by fawning over Blythe. Instead, she had held her head high, acting as if she couldn’t feel the pain of being so easily discarded. It was that stubbornness and pride that had sparked Blythe’s animosity toward her.

Clearly those feelings remained, and yet Blythe had still offered Rosalie her whole allowance. Rosalie shook her head. She could acknowledge that she herself was both stubborn and prideful as well as brave and resilient. So it shouldn’t be astonishing to find that Blythe could act out of true compassion and kindness while still enjoying having Rosalie in a position of humble submission.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Rosalie said. “But I’m afraid I have other matters to occupy my afternoon.”

“Oh, of course.” Blythe looked genuinely disappointed, and Rosalie could imagine how much she would have enjoyed gliding into the Mortar and Pestle with Rosalie trailing meekly in her wake.

“Enjoy your afternoon,” Rosalie murmured and let herself out of the house.

Despite her talk of other plans, she still had to work out what those plans were. So she let her feet direct her as she walked through the town. She couldn’t go straight home and report her failure to her brothers. She had to think of a new plan first. Better yet if she could actually enact that new plan.