Honestly, Aurora needed a moment to compose herself.
“I didn’t expect you to be here, Worth.”
Sapphire blue orbs glittered back at her, snapping to the glass of punch she held. “Where is Miss Maplehurst?”
She peered at him over the glass of punch, deliberately taking a large sip, pretending to savor the taste, before deciding to answer.
“You haven’t seen me in months and that is the first thing you can say?” How disappointing. “I believe she is seeing to her own affairs.” Aurora had an unwelcome fixation on Worth, compounded by not just his looks but also by the friendship they’d once shared.
Before she came out.
Worth leaned in and sniffed. “I can’t tell if you are foxed or not.”
“Not,” Aurora assured him, though she was likely headed in that direction. “I was raised on good Irish whiskey, if you’ll recall. I have an exceptionally high tolerance for spirits. This,” she held up the punch, “is merely watered-down lemonade.”
A dubious look crossed his handsome features.
Aurora breathed him in. Like nearly every other female in London, she was taken with Charles Worthington. How could you not be? She found him to be experienced, probably in ways she shouldn’t know about. Handsome. A bit of a rake, but nottooterrible. He didn’t go about debauching young ladies, for instance. Intelligent. Sharp-witted.
Pity he often treated Aurora as though she were a child in pigtails.
“I’m surprised you are in attendance,” she said, ignoring the way the skin along her arms prickled at his nearness. “I haven’t seen you at any of the events I’ve been to in months.” Her gaze dipped to his mouth. Nicely shaped lips. Sensual curve.
Amusement flickered in his eyes at her assessment. “I received an invitation to this lovely party and I like gardens, quite a bit, as it happens. Bees. Honey. Peonies and roses. I don’t spend all my time on business matters.”
Untrue. Her brother often said Worth was one of the most determined, hard-working individuals he’d ever met. A trait Worth shared with Drew’s wife, Hester.
The citrus aroma became more pronounced as he drew closer. There was a tiny, nearly invisible dot of something purple at the corner of his mouth. Wine, she thought. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her upper lip.
I want to lick that bit of wine.
Worth took a step back, cocking his head. “Why don’t I find Miss Maplehurst for you?” His gaze had grown shuttered. His tone, more formal. As if he’d guessed at Aurora’s thoughts and meant to put some distance between them.
“As I said, I believe she is otherwise occupied.”
“I think it might be best if you return home.” Worth sounded so very staid. Taking the glass of punch from her hand, he said, “Let us find your chaperone and I’ll see you both to your carriage.”
Annoyance.
That was the other strong emotion Aurora felt in Worth’s presence. Treating her as if she were some jam-covered childwho he was duty-bound to supervise. “Isn’t there a widow or two about who requires your attention?”
“Possibly, but I’ll see to you first.”
“Kind, but unnecessary. I’m considering if I should join a game of bowls—” She gestured to the other side of the lawn. “Looks amusing enough.”
“You’re terrible at bowls, Aurora. You nearly took my foot off the last time we played.”
“A one-time occurrence.” Truthfully, she had little athleticism in her, unlike Tamsin, who could ride better than most men and play a decent game of bowls. Try as she might, Aurora couldn’t seem to toss a bowl correctly, and shehadnearly taken Worth’s leg off. He’d hobbled about for the remainder of that afternoon in an overly dramatic fashion, requesting Aurora fetch him a glass of brandy. Or a cheroot. She’d even had to bring a pillow for him to prop up his ankle.
Yes, but that was before.
“The incident you speak of was some time ago, Worth. Besides, Lord Grisham has offered to teach me.” She gave a shrug. “I’ll be in his capable hands.” Gazing at him from beneath her lashes Aurora couldn’t resist adding, “Your tutelage leaves much to be desired.”
“I was a fine teacher. You declined to heed my lessons.”
Aurora had been far too aware of Worth’s attention to her that day to pay attention to any lessons on bowls he might have given her. She’d blushed and stammered, glancing at her feet to avoid looking at Worth, which was skin to lifting one’s eyes to the sun.
“That is a matter of opinion,” she replied.
