“I can assure you that your title of chaperone is merely ceremonial at this point, Aunt Lottie. I think Jordan is well aware of your faults. But my brother isn’t terribly good at being an earl, so he’s no room to criticize. Think of all you’ve accomplished. I’m halfway through my second Season and haven’t been compromised. You must take your victories where you can.”
“I suppose I shall. Is there anything you would like to confess to me about Worth?” Her shrewd gaze traveled over Aurora, lingering over the mess of her hair and the tear in her gown.
“Not at all.”
“I adore Worth, but he has a reputation, Aurora. And a past.” Her lips pursed. “I’m not sure—”
“You need not worry,” Aurora assured her. “Worth is simply Worth. My brother’s friend. Far too old for my tastes. If anything, I find him annoying. He treats me as if I’m a child.”
“Does he? Where is it you saw Worth? The maze?”
A blush stole up Aurora’s cheeks before she could stop it. “He was with Lady Bryant.”
Aunt Lottie made a face. “I thought he had better taste. Well,” she took Aurora’s hand.
“Shall we take our leave of this dreary party? Lady Berriwell plans to have dancing on the lawn which is a terrible idea. There are holes everywhere and I’ve no desire to sprain my ankle. Thank goodness the appearance of Kenebruke salvaged the afternoon.”
“Yes, thank goodness,” Aurora mused.
As they made their way back across the lawn, her thoughts once more settled on Worth. There had been a moment, right after Aurora kissed him, that the light in his eyes shifted from annoyance at her antics to wonder. Those graceful hands had held her close without reservation.
Chapter Seven
Aurora yawned behindher fan as discreetly as possible.
In yet another instance in which she decried the bland tediousness of a young lady’s existence, Aurora had been forced to attend a recital. Recitals in general bored her to tears, specifically those musical performances hosted by a desperate mama to showcase her unwed daughter’s nonexistent talent in hopes of attracting a suitor.
Aunt Lottie, in a surprising burst of chaperonage, barely left Aurora’s side the entire evening. Just now, she stood by the refreshment table conducting a somewhat heated discussion with Lady Curchon, Ware’s aunt. The pair didn’t really like each other, especially after Lady Curchon’s plan to keep Tamsin from wedding her precious nephew hadn’t worked, for which she blamed Aunt Lottie.
Reluctantly turning her attention to Lady Mormont’s daughter, Agnes, Aurora had a rush of pity for the poor girl dutifully plucking away at the strings of her harp. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being asked to perform like a circus animal for the likes of Atherby and Mendenhall. One of them was sure to offer for Agnes. Both were in need of a dowry to replenish the family coffers.
The information of either lord’s poverty wasn’t well known, but Aurora’s sister-in-law, Alyss, was extremely well-informed about nearly everyone in society. Surprising, since Alyss wasn’t a gossip, nor did she usually attend events such as these.
A large feather bobbed at the outer edge of the small gathering, the bearer turning her sharp chin, making sure Aurora was aware of her presence.
Lady Longwood was such a predictable, detestable creature.
A slow, smug smile crossed Lady Longwood’s angular features as her eyes roved over Aurora, head to toe. A knowing glance said that Aurora was just steps away from becoming the shame of London.
Vulture.
Aurora gave Lady Longwood her back and stepped closer to an alcove directly across from the line of chairs where most of the guests were seated. Bentley’s maternal aunt was a vile woman. She’d never forgiven any of the Sinclairs for the insult dealt her family, making sure that when Bentley inherited, her revenge upon them all was enacted.
Dunnings.
Aurora still recalled the day of her father’s funeral. Mama weeping her heart out that the man she loved was gone. Lady Longwood hadn’t even given them the courtesy of allowing them to grieve, instead she’d had Bentley ship his hated half-siblings off to a remote estate. And Mama had died.
Deadly Sins. That’s what you are.
“Lady Aurora, may I say you look quite fetching in that gown. Blue is my favorite color. I’ve brought you lemonade.”
“Is it, Lord Mendenhall? I hadn’t known.” She accepted the lemonade. “How kind. Thank you.”
Mendenhall was wasting his time on Aurora. While her dowry dwarfed that of harp-playing Agnes because coal had made the Sinclair family wealthy, Alyss had ferreted out that Mendenhall was far too careless with his coin and thus would not make a suitable husband. Which was just as well because Aurora had no real interest in Mendenhall. But she liked him well enough. She lifted her glass and took a sip.
“You are welcome.” His brow wrinkled. “Perhaps I merely do not enjoy music, but I find I’m not amenable to the harp.”
“Nor I, my lord.” Aurora gave a small laugh. “Perhaps if Agnes were sporting wings. Like an angel.”
